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diff --git a/57785-0.txt b/57785-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fde5c83 --- /dev/null +++ b/57785-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,23429 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57785 *** + + + + + + + + + +NEW YORK: ITS UPPER TEN AND LOWER MILLION. + + +BY GEORGE LIPPARD. + +AUTHOR OF "ADONAI," "WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS," "THE QUAKER CITY," +"PAUL ARDENHEIM," "BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE," "LEGENDS OF MEXICO," "THE +NAZARENE," ETC. ETC. ETC. + + +CINCINNATI: PUBLISHED BY E. MENDENHALL. + +NEW YORK: A. RANNEY. + +1854. + + + + +[Illustration: Author Portrait.] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PRELIMINARY SKETCH + + PROLOGUE + + + Part First. + + "FRANK VAN HUYDEN." DEC. 23 1844.--EVENING. + + + CHAPTER I. "DOES HE REMEMBER?" + + CHAPTER II. FRANK AND HER SINGULAR VISITOR. + + CHAPTER III. THE CHILDHOOD OF THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN. + + CHAPTER IV. MAIDENHOOD. + + CHAPTER V. ON THE ROCK. + + CHAPTER VI. AMONG THE PALISADES. + + CHAPTER VII. IN THE FOREST NOOK. + + CHAPTER VIII. HOME, ADIEU! + + CHAPTER IX. ERNEST AND HIS SINGULAR ADVENTURES. + + CHAPTER X. THE PALACE-HOME. + + CHAPTER XI. "SHE'LL DO!" + + CHAPTER XII. A REVELATION. + + CHAPTER XIII. MORPHINE. + + CHAPTER XIV. THE SALE IS COMPLETE. + + CHAPTER XV. "LOST--LOST, UTTERLY!" + + + Part Second. + + FROM NIGHTFALL UNTIL MIDNIGHT. DEC. 23, 1844. + + + CHAPTER I. BLOODHOUND AND THE UNKNOWN. + + CHAPTER II. THE CANAL STREET SHIRT STORE. + + CHAPTER III. "DO THEY ROAR?" + + CHAPTER IV. THE SEVEN VAULTS. + + CHAPTER V. THE LEGATE OF THE POPE. + + CHAPTER VI. "JOANNA!" + + CHAPTER VII. THE WHITE SLAVE AND HIS SISTER. + + CHAPTER VIII. ELEANOR LYNN. + + CHAPTER IX. BERNARD LYNN. + + CHAPTER X. "YES! YOU WILL MEET HIM." + + CHAPTER XI. IN THE HOUSE OF THE MERCHANT PRINCE. + + CHAPTER XII. "SHOW ME THE WAY." + + CHAPTER XIII. "THE REVEREND VOLUPTUARIES." + + CHAPTER XIV. "BELOW FIVE POINTS." + + + Part Third. + + THROUGH THE SILENT CITY. DEC. 24, 1844. + + + CHAPTER I. THE DEN OF MADAM RESIMER. + + CHAPTER II. "HERMAN, YOU WILL NOT DESERT ME?" + + CHAPTER III. HERMAN, ARTHUR, ALICE. + + CHAPTER IV. THE RED BOOK. + + CHAPTER V. "WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH HER?" + + CHAPTER VI. A BRIEF EPISODE. + + CHAPTER VII. THROUGH THE SILENT CITY. + + CHAPTER VIII. IN TRINITY CHURCH. + + CHAPTER IX. THE END OF THE MARCH. + + + + Part Fourth. + + IN THE TEMPLE--FROM MIDNIGHT UNTIL DAWN. DEC. 24, 1844. + + + CHAPTER I. THE CENTRAL CHAMBER. + + CHAPTER II. THE BLUE ROOM. + + CHAPTER III. THE GOLDEN ROOM. + + CHAPTER IV. THE BRIDAL CHAMBER. + + CHAPTER V. THE SCARLET CHAMBER. + + CHAPTER VI. BANK STOCK AT THE BAR. + + CHAPTER VII. "WHERE IS THE CHILD OF GULIAN VAN HUYDEN?" + + CHAPTER VIII. BEVERLY AND JOANNA. + + CHAPTER IX. MARY BERMAN--CARL RAPHAEL. + + + + + Part Fifth. + + THE DAWN, SUNRISE AND DAY. DEC. 24, 1844. + + + CHAPTER I. "THE OTHER CHILD." + + CHAPTER II. RANDOLPH AND HIS BROTHER. + + CHAPTER III. THE HUSBAND AND THE PROFLIGATE. + + CHAPTER IV. ISRAEL AND HIS VICTIM. + + CHAPTER V. MARY, CARL, CORNELIUS. + + CHAPTER VI. A LOOK INTO THE RED BOOK. + + CHAPTER VII. MARION MERLIN. + + CHAPTER VIII. NIAGARA. + + CHAPTER IX. A SECOND MARRIAGE. + + CHAPTER X. A SECOND MURDER. + + CHAPTER XI. MARION AND HERMAN BARNHURST. + + CHAPTER XII. MARION AND FANNY. + + CHAPTER XIII. AN UNUTTERABLE CRIME. + + CHAPTER XIV. SUICIDE. + + CHAPTER XV. AFTER THE DEATH OF MARION. + + + + Part Sixth. + + DAY, SUNSET, NIGHT. DECEMBER 24, 1844. + + + CHAPTER I. ARRAYED FOR THE BRIDAL. + + CHAPTER II. HERMAN AND GODIVA. + + CHAPTER III. THE DREAM ELIXIR. + + CHAPTER IV. THE BRIDAL OF JOANNA AND BEVERLY. + + CHAPTER V. AN EPISODE. + + + + Part Seventh. + + THE DAY OF TWENTY-ONE YEARS. DEC. 25, 1844. + + + CHAPTER I. MARTIN FULMER APPEARS. + + CHAPTER II. "THE SEVEN" ARE SUMMONED. + + CHAPTER III. "SAY, BETWEEN US THREE!" + + CHAPTER IV. THE LEGATE OF HIS HOLINESS. + + CHAPTER V. THE SON, AT LAST! + + CHAPTER VI. A LONG ACCOUNT SETTLED. + + CHAPTER VII. THE BANQUET ROOM ONCE MORE. + + + + Epilogue. ON THE OCEAN--BY THE RIVER SHORE--IN THE VATICAN--ON + THE PRAIRIE. + + + + +PRELIMINARY SKETCH. + + +CHRISTMAS EVE, 1823, was a memorable night in the history of a certain +wealthy family in New York. The night was dark and stormy, but the +tempest which swept over the bay, and whitened the city's roofs with +snow, was but a faint symbol of the tempest of human passion--jealousy, +covetousness, despair--then at work, in the breasts of a group of +individuals, connected with the old and distinguished family of VAN +HUYDEN. + +On that night, GULIAN VAN HUYDEN, the representative of the family, and +owner of its immense wealth--a young man in the prime of early manhood, +who had been happily married a year before--gave a great banquet to his +male friends, in his city mansion. By his side was seated his younger +brother, CHARLES VAN HUYDEN, whom the will of their father had confined +to a limited income, while GULIAN, as the elder son, had become the +possessor of nearly all of the immense wealth of the family. + +The banquet was prolonged from about nine o'clock until near dawn, +and during its progress, Gulian and his brother had been alternately +absent, for the space of an hour, or a half hour at a time. + +The city mansion of Gulian, situated not far from Trinity Church, flung +the blaze of its festival lights out upon the stormy night. That light +was not sufficient to light up the details of two widely different +edifices, which, located within a hundred yards of Gulian's mansion, +had much to do with his fortunes, and the fortunes of his family. + +The nearest of these edifices, an antique, high-roofed house, which +stood in a desolate garden, was (unknown to Gulian) the home of his +brother, and of that brother's mistress--a woman whom Charles did not +wish to marry, until by some chance or other, he became the possessor +of the Van Huyden estate. + +The other edifice, a one-storied hovel, was the home of a mechanic and +his young wife. His name was JOHN HOFFMAN, his trade that of a stone +mason, and at the period of this narrative, he was miserably poor. + +Now, during the night of Christmas eve (and while the banquet was in +progress in Gulian's city mansion), an unknown person, thickly cloaked, +entered the hovel of the mechanic, bearing a new-born child in his +arms. An interview followed between the unknown, John Hoffman, and his +wife. The mechanic and his wife consented to adopt the child in place +of one which they had recently lost. The stranger with the child, +gave them a piece of parchment, which bore on one side, the initials, +"G. G. V. H. C." and on the other the name of "DR. MARTIN FULMER," an +eccentric physician, well known in New York. This parchment deposited +in a letter addressed to Dr. Fulmer, and sent to the post office once a +quarter, would be returned to the mechanic, accompanied by the sum of +a hundred dollars. John was especially enjoined to keep this interview +and its results a secret from the Doctor. Having deposited the child +and parchment with the worthy couple, the stranger departed, and was +never again seen by the mechanic or his wife. + +Within an hour of this singular interview the mistress of Charles Van +Huyden, returned to her home (from which she had been absent for a +brief period)--flakes of snow upon her dress and upon her disordered +hair--and placed upon her bed, the burden which she carried, a new-born +infant, enveloped in a shawl. As the fallen, but by no means altogether +depraved woman, surveyed this infant, she also beheld her own child, +sleeping in a cradle not far from the bed--a daughter some three months +old, and named after its mother FRANK, that is, FRANCIS VAN HUYDEN. + +Christmas Eve passed away, and Christmas morning was near. Dr. Martin +Fulmer was suddenly summoned to Gulian's mansion. And Gulian, fresh +from the scenes of the banquet room, met the Doctor in an obscure +garret of his mansion. He first bound the Doctor by an oath, to yield +implicit obedience to all his wishes, an oath which appealed to all +that was superstitious, as well as to all that was truly religious in +the Doctor's nature, and then the interview followed, terrible and +momentous in its details and its results. These results stretch over +a period of twenty-one years--from December 25, 1823, to December 25, +1844. This interview over, Gulian left the Doctor (who, stupefied and +awe-stricken by the words which he had just heard, sank kneeling on +the floor of the room in which the interview had taken place), and +silently departed from his mansion. He bent his steps to the Battery. +And then--young, handsome, the possessor of enormous wealth--he left +this life with the same composure, that he had just departed from his +mansion. In plain words, he plunged into the river, and met the death +of the SUICIDE in its ice-burdened waves, while his brother Charles +(whom we forgot to state, had accompanied him from the threshold of his +home), stood affrighted and appalled on the shore. + +Meanwhile, Dr. Martin Fulmer (bound by his oath), descended from the +garret into a bedchamber of the Van Huyden mansion. Upon the bed was +stretched a beautiful but dying woman. It was Alice Van Huyden, the +young wife of Gulian. All night long (while the banquet progressed +in another apartment) she had wrestled in the agonies of maternity, +unwatched and alone. She had given birth to a child, but when the Dr. +stood by the bed, the child had been removed by unknown hands. + +Convinced of his wife's infidelity--believing that his own brother +Charles was the author of his dishonor--Gulian had left his mansion, +his wealth, life and all its hopes, to meet the death of the suicide in +the waves of Manhattan Bay. + +And Dr. Martin Fulmer, but a few hours ago a poor man, now found +himself, as he stood by the bed of the dying wife, the _sole trustee_ +of the Van Huyden Estate. + +His trust was to continue for twenty-one years. In case of his death, +he had power to appoint a successor. And at the end of twenty-one +years, on the 25th of December, 1844, the estate (swelled by the +accumulations of twenty-one years), was, by the will of Gulian Van +Huyden, to be disposed of in this wise: + +I. In case a son of Gulian should appear on that day (December 25th, +1844), the estate should descend absolutely to him. Or, + +II. In case on the day named, it should be proven to the satisfaction +of the Trustee, that such a son had been in existence, but had met his +death in a truly just cause, then the estate was to be disposed of, +according to the directions embodied in a sealed codicil (which was not +to be opened until December 25, 1844). But in case such a son did not +appear, and in case his death in a truly just cause was not proven on +the appointed day, then, + +III. The estate was to be divided among the heirs of _seven_ persons, +descendants of the first of the Van Huydens, who landed on Manhattan +Island, in the year 1623. These seven persons, widely distributed +over the United States, were (by the directions of the Testator) to +be furnished with a copy of the will. And among these seven or their +heirs--that is, those of the number who appeared before Martin Fulmer, +at the appointed place on the appointed day--the estate would be +divided. + +Such in brief, were the essential features of the will. + +A few days after December 25, 1823, Charles Van Huyden, having in his +possession $200,000 (given to him by Dr. Martin Fulmer, in accordance +with the wishes of Gulian) left New York for Paris, taking with him +his mistress (now his wife), their child "Francis" or "Frank," and the +strange child which the woman had brought to her home, on Christmas +Eve, 1823. Whether this "strange" child, or the child left with the +poor mechanic, was the offspring of Gulian Van Huyden, will be seen +from the narrative which follows this imperfect sketch. + +Twenty-one years pass away; it lacks but a day or two of December +25th, 1844. Who are the seven heirs? Does a son of Gulian live? What +has become of Charles Van Huyden; of Hoffman the mechanic, and of the +child left in the care of the mechanic? What has become of Charles Van +Huyden's wife and child? + +On a night in December 1844--say the 23d of the month--we shall find in +New York, the following persons, connected with the fortunes of the Van +Huyden family: + +The "SEVEN" or their heirs. + +I. GABRIEL GODLIKE, a statesman, who with an intellect rivaling some of +the greatest names in our history, such as Clay, Calhoun or Webster, is +destitute of the patriotism and virtues of these great men. + +II. HERMAN BARNHURST, a clergyman, who has lured from Philadelphia to +New York, the only daughter of a merchant of the former city. This +clergyman and his victim, are pursued by the Third of the Seven. + +III. ARTHUR DERMOYNE, a mechanic. + +IV. ISRAEL YORKE, a Banker. + +V. HARRY ROYALTON, OF HILL ROYAL, S. C. His claim to an undivided +seventh of the Estate, will be contested by his half brother and +sister, RANDOLPH and ESTHER, who although white, are alleged to have +African blood in their veins. + +VI. BEVERLY BARRON, a "man of the world." + +VII. EVELYN SOMERS, a New York "Merchant Prince." + +2d. We shall find in New York, at the period before named, CHARLES +VAN HUYDEN, transformed into COL. TARLETON, and endeavoring to remove +from his hands the blood of a man whom he has slain in a duel. His +daughter "FRANK" grown to womanhood, and brought into contact with +"NAMELESS," who left in infancy at the hovel of John Hoffman, has after +a childhood of terrible hardships--a young manhood darkened by madness +and crime--suddenly appeared in New York, in company with a discharged +convict. This convict is none other than John Hoffman the mechanic. And +gliding through the narrative, and among its various actors, we shall +find MARTIN FULMER, or his successor. + +With this preliminary sketch--necessarily brief and imperfect, for +it covers a period of twenty-one years--the following narrative is +submitted to the reader. Yet first, let us for a moment glance at the +"VAN HUYDEN ESTATE." This estate in 1823, was estimated at two millions +of dollars. What is it in 1844? + +The history of two millions of dollars in twenty-one years! Two +millions left to go by itself, and ripen year after year, into new +power, until at last the original sum is completely forgotten in the +vast accumulation of capital. In the Old World twenty-one years glide +by, and everything is the same. At the end of twenty-one years, two +millions would still be two millions. Twenty-one years in the New World +is as much as two centuries to the Old. The vast expanse of land; +the constant influx of population; the space for growth afforded by +institutions as different from those of Europe (that is from those +of the past), as day from night--all contribute to this result. From +1823 to 1844, the New World, hardened by a childhood of battle and +martyrdom, sprang into strong manhood. Behold the philosophy of modern +wealth, manifested in the growth of the Van Huyden Estate. Without +working itself it bids others to work. Left to the age, to the growth +of the people, the increase of commerce and labor, it swells into a +wealth that puts the Arabian Nights to shame. In 1823 it comprises +certain pieces of land in the heart of New York, and in the open +country beyond New York. In 1844 the city land has repeated its value +by a hundred; the country lots have become the abiding place of the +Merchant Princes of New York. Cents in 1823, become dollars in 1844. +This by the progress of the age, by the labor of the millions, and +without one effort on the part of the lands or their owner. In 1823 +there is a country seat and farm on the North River; in 1844 the +farm has become the seat of factories, mills, the dwelling place of +five thousand tenants, whose labor has swelled the original value of +$150,000 into ten millions of dollars. In 1823, five thousand acres, +scattered over the wild west, are vaguely valued at $5000--in 1844 +these acres, located in various parts of the west, are the sites of +towns, villages, mines, teeming with a dense population, and worth +thirty millions of dollars. In 1823 a tract of barren land among the +mountains of Pennsylvania, is bought for one thousand dollars; in 1844 +this tract, the location of mines of iron and coal, is worth TWENTY +MILLIONS. + +Thus in twenty-one years, by _holding on to its own_, the Van Huyden +Estate has swelled from TWO MILLIONS to ONE HUNDRED MILLIONS OF +DOLLARS. The age moves on; it remains in its original proprietorship, +swelled by the labor of millions, who derive but a penny where they +bestow upon the estate a dollar. It works not; mankind works for +it. Has this wealth no duties to mankind? Is there not something +horrible in the thought of an entire generation, for mere subsistence, +spending their lives, in order to make this man, this estate, or this +corporation, the possessor of incredible wealth? + + + + +PROLOGUE + + +The lamp has gone out in the old familiar room! It used to shine, late +at night upon the books, upon the pictures on the wall, and upon my +face as I sat writing there! Oftentimes it shone upon another face +which looked over my shoulder, and cheered me in my labor. But now +the lamp has gone out--and forever. The face which looked upon me is +gone; the coffin lid shut down upon it one Summer day! The room is +dark forever. And the next room, where she used to sleep with her +children--it is dark and still! The house is desolate! There are +no voices to break its stillness! Her voice, and the voices of our +children, are silent forever on this lower earth. My heart goes back +to that house and to its rooms, and to the voices that once sounded +there, and the faces which once made it glad, and with more than the +bitterness of Death I confess, _that Time can never return_. Nevermore, +nevermore, nevermore! Wealth may come; change of scene may deaden +sorrow; wrestling with the world, may divert the soul from perpetual +brooding, but the Truth is still the Truth, _that Time can never +return_. And this is the end of all, after a life spent in perpetual +battle--after toiling day and night for long years--after looking to +the Future, hoping, struggling, suffering--to find at last, even before +thirty years are mine, that the lamp has gone out, and forever! That +those for whom I toiled and suffered--whose well-being was the impulse +and the ultimate of all my exertions--are no longer with me, but gone +to return never--nevermore. Upon this earth the lamp that lit my way +through life, has indeed gone out, and forever. But is it not lighted +now by a higher hand than mortal, and is it not shining now in a better +world than this? + + * * * * * + +Once more I resume my pen. Since this work was commenced, Death has +been busy with my home--death hath indeed laid my home desolate. It +is a selfish thing to write for money, it is a base and a mean thing +to write for fame, but it is a good and a holy thing to write for the +approval of those whom we most intensely love. Deprived of this spring +of action, it is hard, very hard to take up the pen once more. Write, +write! but the face that once looked over your shoulder, and cheered +you in your task, shall look over it no more. Write, write! and turn +your gaze to every point of the horizon of life--not one face of home +meets your eye. + + * * * * * + +Take up the pen once more. Banish the fast gathering memories--choke +them down. Forget the ACTUAL of your own life, in the ideal to +which the pen gives utterance. Brave old pen! Always trusted, never +faithless! True through long years of toil, be true and steadfast now; +when the face that once watched your progress is sleeping in graveyard +dust. And when you write down a noble thought, or give utterance to +a holy truth, may be, that face will smile upon your progress, even +through the darkened glass which separates the present from the Better +World. + + + + +PART FIRST. + +"FRANK VAN HUYDEN." + +DEC. 23, 1844.--EVENING. + + +CHAPTER I. + +"DOES HE REMEMBER?" + + +"Does he remember?" was the exclamation of Frank, as concealing +the history of the Life of NAMELESS within her bosom, a singular +expression flashed over her beautiful face. "Does he remember?" was her +thought--"Is he conscious of the words which have fallen from his lips? +Does he pass from this singular state of trance, only to forget the +real history of his life?" + +The agitation which had convulsed the face of Nameless, at the moment +when he emerged from the clairvoyant state (if thus we may designate +it) soon passed away. His face became calm and almost radiant in its +every line. His eyes, no longer glassy, shone with clear and healthy +light; a slight flush animated his hitherto sallow cheeks; in a word, +his countenance, in a moment, underwent a wonderful change. + +Frank uttered an exclamation of surprise. + +"Ah! I begin to live!" said Nameless, passing his hand over his +forehead--"Yes, yes," he uttered, with a sigh of mingled sorrow and +delight, "I have risen from the grave. For two years the victim of a +living death, I now begin to live. The cloud is gone; I see, I see the +light!" + +He rose and confronted Frank. + +"There was another child--yes, my mother gave birth to two children, +one of whom your father stole on the night of its birth and reared as +his own. His purpose you may guess. But what has become of that child? +It disappeared, I know, at the time when your father arrived from +Paris--_disappeared_, ha, ha, Frank! Did it not _disappear_ to rise +into light again, on the 25th of December, 1844, as the _only child_ +of GULIAN VAN HUYDEN? Your father is a bold gamester; he plays with a +fearless hand!" + +He paced the room, while Frank, listening intently to his words, +watched with dumb wonder the delight which gave a new life to his +countenance. + +"And Cornelius Berman, Frank--" he turned abruptly. + +"Died last year." + +His countenance fell. + +"And Mary--" + +"Followed her father to the grave." + +He fell back upon the sofa like a wounded man. It was some moments +before he recovered the appearance of calmness. + +"How knew you this?" + +"A year ago, an artist reduced to poverty, through the agency of Israel +Yorke, came to my home to paint my portrait. It was Cornelius Berman. +Yorke had employed Buggles as his agent in the affair of the transfer +of the property of Cornelius; Buggles the agent was dead indeed, but +Yorke appeared upon the scene, as the principal, and sold Cornelius +out of house and home. The papers which you took from the dead body +of Buggles were only copies; the originals were in the possession of +Israel Yorke." + +Nameless hid his face in his hands. He did not speak again until many +minutes had elapsed. + +"And you thought that Cornelius had put Buggles to death?" + +"I gathered it from a rumor which has crept through New York for the +last two years. The haggard face and wandering eye of the dying artist, +who painted my picture, confirmed this impression." + +"And Cornelius came to this house?"' + +"No; to another house, where I had been placed by my father. He +procured a person to represent a southern gentleman, and personate +my father. That is, I was represented as the only child of a rich +southerner; and in that capacity my picture was painted, and--and--I +afterward visited the home of the artist, in a miserable garret, and +saw his daughter, who assisted her father, by the humblest kind of +work. She was a seamstress--she worked for 'sixteen cents per day.'" + +"And she is dead," said Nameless, in a low voice. + +"I lost sight of Mary and her father about a year ago, and have since +received intelligence of their death." + +"How did you receive this intelligence?" + +"It was in all the papers. Beverly Barron wrote quite a touching poem +upon the Death of the Artist and his Daughter. Beverly, you are aware, +was eloquent upon such occasions: the death of a friend was always a +godsend to him." + +Nameless did not reply, but seemed for a moment to surrender himself to +the influence of unalloyed despair. + +"Look you, Frank," he said, after a long pause, "I have seventy-one +thousand dollars--" + +"Seventy-one thousand dollars!" she ejaculated. + +"Yes, and it is 'FRANK AND NAMELESS AND NINETY-ONE AGAINST THE WORLD.' +To-morrow is the 24th of December; the day after will be THE DAY. We +must lay our plans; we must track Martin Fulmer to his haunt; we must +foil your father, and, in a word, show the world that its cunning can +be baffled and its crime brought to justice, by the combination of +three persons--a Fallen Woman, a Convict and a Murderer! O, does it +not make your heart bound to think of the good work we can do with +seventy-one thousand dollars!" + +She gave him her hand, quietly, but her dark eye answered the +excitement which flashed from every line of his countenance. + +"And will it not be a glorious thing for us, if we can wash away our +crimes--yes, Frank, our crimes--and show the world what virtue lurks in +the breast of the abandoned and the lost?" + +"Then I can atone for the crime of which I am guilty--for I am guilty +of being the child of a man who sold me into shame--you are guilty of +having stained your hands in the blood of a wretch who cursed the very +air which he breathed--and Ninety-One, is guilty, yes guilty of having +once been in--_my father's way_. These are terrible crimes, Gulian--" + +"Call me not by that name until the 25th of December," exclaimed +Nameless. + +At this moment, Frank turned aside and from the drawer of a cabinet, +drew forth a long and slender vial, which she held before the eyes of +Nameless. + +"And if we fail, this will give us peace. It is a quiet messenger, +Gulian. Within twelve hours after the contents of this vial have passed +the lips, the body will sink into a peaceful sleep, without one sign or +token to tell the tale of suicide. Yes, Gulian, if we fail, this vial, +which I procured with difficulty, and which I have treasured for years, +will enable us to fall asleep in each other's arms, and--forever!" + +"Suicide!" echoed Nameless, gazing now upon the vial, then upon her +countenance, imbued with a look of somber enthusiasm--"You have thought +of that?" + +"O had this vial been mine, in the hour when, pure and hopeful, I was +sold into the arms of shame, do you think that for an instant I would +have hesitated between the death that lays you quietly asleep in the +coffin, and that death which leaves the body living, while it cankers +and kills the soul?" + +Nameless took the vial from her hand and regarded it long and ardently. +O what words can picture the strange look, which then came over his +face! He uttered a deep sigh and placed the vial in her hands again. +She silently placed it in the drawer of the cabinet. + +As she again confronted him, their eyes met,--they understood each +other. + +"Frank," said Nameless in a measured tone--"Who owns this house? What +is its true character?" + +Seating herself beside him on the sofa she replied: + +"As to the _owner_ of this house, you may be sure that he is a +man of property and moral worth, a church-member and a respectable +citizen. But do not imagine for a moment that this is a common haunt +of infamy--no, my friend, no! None but the most select, the most +aristocratic, ever cross the threshold of this place. Remain until +twelve o'clock to-night and you will behold some of the guests who +honor my house with their presence." + +There was a mocking look upon her face as she gave utterance to these +words. She beat the carpet with her slipper and grasped the cross which +rested on her bosom with a nervous and impatient clutch. + +"At twelve to-night!" echoed Nameless, and looked into her face. "I +will remain;" and once more his whole being was enveloped in the +magnetic influence which flowed from the eyes of the lost woman. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +FRANK AND HER SINGULAR VISITOR. + + +It will soon fall to our task to depict certain scenes, which took +place in the Empire City on the 23d of December, between nightfall +and midnight. The greater portion of these scenes will find their +legitimate development in "THE TEMPLE," from midnight until morning; +while others will lift the "Golden Shroud" and uncover to our gaze +threads and arteries of that great social heart of New York, which +throbs with every pang of unutterable misery, or dilates and burns with +every pulse of voluptuous luxury. + +Ere we commence our task, let us look in upon a scene which took place +in the house of Frank, about nightfall and (of course) before Nameless +had sought refuge in her room. + +Frank was sitting alone, in a quiet room near a desk upon which pen and +ink and papers were spread. It was the room devoted to the management +of her household affairs. She sat in an arm-chair, with her feet on a +stool and her back to the window, while she lifted the golden cross +and regarded it with an absent gaze. The white curtains of the windows +were turned to crimson by the reflection of the setting sun, and the +warm glow shining through the intervals of her black hair, which fell +loosely on her shoulders, rested warmly upon her cheek. Her whole +attitude was that of revery or dreamy thought. + +While thus occupied, a male servant, dressed in rich livery, entered, +and addressed his mistress in these words: + +"Madam, _he_ wishes to see you." + +"He! Whom do you mean?" said Frank, raising her eyes but without +changing her position. + +"That queer stranger, who never gives his name,--who has been here so +often within the last three weeks,--I mean the one who wears the blue +cloak with ever-so-many capes." + +Frank started up in her chair. + +"Show him in," she said,--"Yet stay a moment, Walker. Are all the +arrangements made for to-night?" + +"Everything has been done, precisely as Madam ordered it to be done," +said the servant obsequiously. + +He then retired and presently the visitor entered. The room is wrapped +in twilight and we cannot trace the details of his appearance clearly, +for he seats himself in the shadow, opposite Frank. We can discern, +however, that his tall form, bent with age, is clad in a blue cloak +with numerous capes, and he wears a black fur hat with ample brim. He +takes his seat quietly, and rests his hand upon the head of his cane. + +Not a word was spoken for several minutes. Each seemed to be waiting +for the other to commence the conversation. Frank at last broke the +embarrassing stillness. + +"Soh! you are here again." + +"Yes, madam," replied the stranger in a harsh but not unmusical voice, +"according to appointment." + +"It is now three weeks since we first met," said Frank. "You purchased +this house of the person from whom I leased it, some three weeks ago. +But I have a lease upon it which has yet one year to run. You desire, I +believe, to purchase my lease, and enter at once upon possession? Well, +sir, I am resolved not to sell." + +Without directly replying to her question, the man in the cloak with +many capes replied-- + +"We did not meet three weeks ago for the first time," he said. "Our +first meeting was long before that period." + +"What mean you?" said Frank raising her eyes and endeavoring, although +vainly, to pierce the gloom which enshrouded the stranger. "O, it is +getting dark. I will ring for lights." + +"Before you ring for lights, a word,--" the stranger's voice sank but +Frank heard every word,--"we met for the first time at a _funeral_--" + +"At a funeral!" + +"At a funeral; and after the funeral I had _the body_ taken up +privately and ordered a _post mortem_ examination to be made. Upon that +body, madam,--" he paused. + +"Well, sir?" Frank's voice was tremulous. + +"Upon that body I discovered traces of a fatal although subtle poison." + +Again he paused. Frank made no reply. Even in the dim light it might +be seen that her head sank slowly on her breast. Did the words of the +stranger produce a strong impression? We cannot see her face, for the +room is vailed in twilight. + +"This darkness grows embarrassing," he said, "will you ring for lights?" + +She replied with a monosyllable, uttered in a faint voice,--"No!" she +said, then a dead stillness once more ensued, which continued until the +stranger again spoke. + +"In regard to the lease, madam. Do you agree to sell, and upon the +terms which I proposed when I was here last?" + +Again Frank replied with a monosyllable. "Yes!" she faintly said. + +"And the other proposition: to-night you hold some sort of festival +in this place. I desire to know the names of all your guests; to +introduce such guests as I choose within these walls; to have, for +one night only, a certain control over the internal economy of this +place. In case you consent to this proposition, I will pay you for the +lease double the amount which I have already offered, and promise, on +my honor, to do nothing within these walls to-night, which can in the +slightest degree harm or compromise you." + +He stated his proposition slowly and deliberately. Frank took full time +to ponder upon every word. Simple as the proposition looked, well she +knew, that it might embrace results of the most important nature. + +"Must I consent?" she said, and her voice faltered. "It is hard--" + +"'Must' is no word in the case, madam," answered that stern even voice. +"Use your own will and pleasure." + +"But the request is so strange," said Frank, "and suppose I grant it? +Who can tell the consequences?" + +"It is singular," said the stranger as though thinking aloud, "to +what an extent the art of poisoning was carried in the middle ages! +The art has long been lost,--people poison each other bunglingly +now-a-days,--although it is said, that the secret of a certain poison, +which puts its victims quietly to sleep, leaving not the slighted +tell-tale trace or mark, has survived even to the present day." + +Certainly the stranger had a most remarkable manner of thinking aloud. + +Frank spoke in a voice scarcely audible: "I consent to your +proposition." + +She rose, and although it was rapidly getting quite dark, she unlocked +a secret drawer of her desk, and drew from thence two packages. + +"This way, sir," she spoke in a low voice, and the stranger rose and +approached her. "Here you will find the names of all my guests, and +especially of those who will come here to-night. You will find such +other information as may be useful to you and aid your purposes." She +placed the package in his hand. "I will place Walker and the other +servants under your command." She paused, and resumed after an instant, +in a firmer voice: "If I have yielded to your request, it has not been +altogether from fear,--" + +"Fear! Who spoke of fear?" + +"Don't mock me. I have yielded from fear, but not altogether from fear. +I have nursed a hope that you can aid me to quit this thrice accursed +life which I now lead. For though your polite manner only thinly vails +insinuations the most deadly, yet I believe you have a heart. I feel +that when you know all of my past life, _all_, you will think, I do not +say better of me, but differently, from what you do now. Here, take +this package,--it contains my history written by my own hand, and only +intended to be read after my death--but you may read it now or at your +leisure." + +The man in the cloak took the package; his voice trembled when he +spoke-- + +"Girl, you shall not regret this confidence. I will aid you to quit +this accursed life." + +"Leave me for a few moments. I wish to sit alone and think for a little +while. After that we will arrange matters in regard to the festival +to-night." + +The stranger in the cloak left the room, bearing with him the two +packages, one of which embraced the mysteries of the house of Frank, +and the other contained the story of her life. + +And in the darkness, Frank walked up and down the room, pressing one +clenched hand against her heaving bosom, and the other against her +burning brow. + +Soon afterward, Frank and the stranger in the old-fashioned cloak, were +closeted for half an hour in earnest conversation. + +We will not record the details of the conversation, but its results +will perchance be seen in the future pages of our history. + +Here, at this point of our story, let us break the seals of the +_second_ package which Frank gave to the stranger, and linger for a +little while upon the pages of her history, written by her own hand. A +strange history in every line! It is called The History of THE MIDNIGHT +QUEEN! + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE CHILDHOOD OF THE MIDNIGHT QUEEN. + + +My childhood's home! O, is there in all the world a phrase so sweet as +this, "My childhood's home!" Others may look back to childhood, and +be stung by bitter memories, but my childhood was the heaven of my +life. As from the hopeless present, I gaze back upon it, I seem like a +traveler, half way up the Alps, surrounded by snow and clouds and mist, +and looking back upon the happy valley, which, dotted with homes and +rich in vines and flowers, smiles in the sunshine far below. + +My childhood's home was very beautiful. It was a two-story cottage, +situated upon an eminence, its white front and rustic porch, half +hidden by the horse-chesnut trees, which in the early summer had snowy +blossoms among their deep green leaves. Behind the cottage arose a +broad and swelling hill, which, fringed with gardens at its base, and +crowned on its summit by a few grand old trees standing alone against +the sky, was in summer-time clad along its entire extent with a garment +of golden wheat. Beneath the cottage flowed the Neprehaun, a gentle +rivulet, which wound among abrupt hills,--every hill rich in foliage +and dotted with homes--until it lost itself in the waves of the Hudson. +Yes, the Hudson was there, grand and beautiful and visible always from +the cottage porch; the Palisades rising from its opposite shore into +heaven, and the broad bay of Tapaan Zee glistening in sunlight to the +north. + +O, that scene is before me now--the cottage with its white front, half +hidden by broad green leaves intermingled with white blossoms,--the +hill, which rose behind it, golden with wheat,--the Neprehaun below, +winding among the hills, now in sunshine, now in shadow,--the Hudson, +with its vast bay and the somber wall which rose into the sky from its +western shore,--it is before me now, with the spring blossoms, the +voices, the sky, the very air of my childhood's days. + +In this home I found myself at the age of thirteen. I was the pupil +and the charge of the occupant of the cottage, a retired clergyman, +the Rev. Thomas Walworth, who having grown gray in the active service +of his Master, had come there to pass his last days in the enjoyment +of competence and peace. Even now, as on the day when I left him +forever, I can see his tall form, bent with age and clad in black, his +mild, pale face, with hair as white as snow,--I can hear that voice, +whose very music was made up of the goodness of a heart at peace with +God and man. When I was thirteen, myself, the good clergyman, and an +aged woman--the housekeeper--were the only occupants of the cottage. +His only son was away at college. And when I was thirteen, my mother, +who had placed me in the care of the clergyman years before, came +to see me. I shall never forget that visit. I was sitting on the +cottage porch--it was a June day--the air was rich with fragrance +and blossoms--my book was on my knee--when I heard her step in the +garden-walk. She was tall and very beautiful, and richly clad in +black, and her dark attire shone with diamonds. Very beautiful, I +say, although there were threads of silver in her brown hair, and an +incessant contraction of her dark brows, which gave a look of anxiety +or pain to her face. + +As she came up the garden-walk, pushing aside her vail of dark lace, I +knew her, although I had not seen her for three years. Her presence was +strange to me, yet still my heart bounded as I saw her come. + +"Well, Frank," she said, as though it was but yesterday since I had +seen her, "I have come to see you,"--she kissed me warmly on the lips +and cheeks.--"Your father is dead, my child." + +A tear stood in her dark eye, a slight tremor moved her lip--that was +all. My father dead! I can scarcely describe the emotions which these +words caused. I had not seen my father for years. There was still a +memory of his face present with me, coupled with an indistinct memory +of my early childhood, passed in a city of a foreign land, and a dim +vision of a voyage upon the ocean. And at my mother's words there came +up the laughing face and sunny hair of my brother Gulian, who had +suddenly disappeared about the time my parents returned from Paris, +and just before I had been placed in the charge of the good clergyman. +These mingling memories arose at my mother's words, and although the +good clergyman stood more to me in the relation of a father than my own +father, still I wept bitterly as I heard the words, "Your father is +dead, my child." + +My mother, who seemed to me like one of those grand, rich ladies of +whom I had read in story-books, seated herself beside me on the cottage +porch. + +"You are getting quite beautiful, Frank," she said, and lifted my +sun-bonnet and put her hand through the curls of my hair, which was +black as jet. "You will be a woman soon." She kissed me, and then +as she turned away, I heard her mutter these words which struck me +painfully although then I could not understand them: "A woman! with +your mother's beauty for your dowry and your mother's fate for your +future!" + +The slight wrinkle between her brows grew deeper as she said these +words. + +"You will be a woman, and must have an education suitable to the +station you will occupy," continued my mother, drawing me quietly to +her, and surveying me earnestly. "Now what do _they_ teach you here?" + +She laughed as I gravely related the part which good old Alice--the +housekeeper--took in my education. Old Alice taught me all the details +of housekeeping; to sow, to knit, the fabrication of good pies, good +butter, and good bread; the mystery of the preparation of various +kinds of preserves; in fact, all the details of housekeeping as she +understood it. And the good old dame, with her high cap, clear, bright +little eyes, sharp nose, and white apron strung with a bundle of keys, +always concluded her lesson with a mysterious intimation that, saving +the good Mr. Walworth only, all the men in the world were monsters, +more dangerous than the bears which ate up the bad children who mocked +at Elijah. + +Laughing heartily as she heard me gravely enter into all these details, +which I concluded with, "You see, mother, I'm quite a housekeeper +already!" she continued: + +"And what does _he_ teach you, my dear?" + +The laughter which animated her face, was succeeded by a look of vague +curiosity as I began my answer. But as I went on, her face became sad +and there were tears in her eyes. + +My father (as I had learned to call the good clergyman) taught me to +read, to write, and to cipher. He gradually disclosed to me (more by +his conversation than through the medium of books) the history of +past ages, the wonders of the heavens above me, the properties of the +plants and flowers that grew in my path. And oftentimes by the bright +wood-fire in winter, or upon the porch under the boughs, in the rich +twilight of the summer scenery--while the stars twinkled through the +leaves, or the Hudson glistened in the light of the rising moon--he +had talked to me of GOD. Of his love for all of us, his providence +watching the sparrow's fall, his mercy reaching forth its almighty +arms to the lowest of earth's stricken children. Of the other world, +which stretches beyond the shores of the present, not dim and +cloud-shadowed, but rich in the sunlight of eternal love, and living +with the realities of a state of being in which there shall be no more +sickness nor pain, and tears shall be wiped from every eye, and all +things be made new. + +Of the holy mother watching over her holy child, while the stars shone +in upon his humble bed in the manger,--of that child, in early boyhood, +sitting in the temple confounding grave men, learned in the logic of +the world, by the simple intuitions of a heart felled with the presence +of God,--of the way of life led by that mother's child, when thirty +years had set the seal of the divine manhood on his brow. How after the +day's hard travel, he stopped to rest at the cottage home of Martha +and Mary,--how he took up little children and blessed them,--how the +blind began to see, the deaf to hear, the dead to live, at sound of +his voice,--how on the calm of evening, in a modest room, he took his +last supper with the Twelve, John resting on his bosom, Judas scowling +in the background,--how, amid the olives of Gethsemane, at dead of +night, while his disciples slept, he went through the unutterable +agony alone until an angel's hand wiped the sweat of blood from his +brow,--how he died upon the felon's tree, the heavens black above him, +the earth beneath him dark with the vast multitude,--and how, on the +clear Sabbath morn he rose again, and called the faithful woman, who +had followed him to the sepulcher, by the name which his mother bore, +spoken in the old familiar tone--"Mary!" How he walked the earth in +bodily form eighteen hundred years ago, shedding the presence of God +around him, and even now he walked it still in spiritual body, shedding +still upon sin-stricken and sorrowing hearts the presence and the +love of God the Father. Lessons such as these, the good clergyman, my +father (as I called him) taught me, instructing me always to do good +and lead a life free from sin, not from fear of damnation or hell, but +because goodness is _growth_, a _good life_ is _happiness_. A flower +shut out from the light is _damned_: it cannot _grow_. An _evil life_ +here or hereafter is in itself _damnation_; for it is _want of growth_, +paralysis or decay of all the nobler faculties. + +As in my own way, and with such words as I could command, I recounted +the manner in which the good clergyman educated me, my mother's face +grew sad and tearful. She did not speak for some minutes; her gaze was +downcast, and through her long dark eyelashes the tears began to steal. + +"A dream," she muttered, "only a dream! Did he know mankind and +know but a portion of their unfathomable baseness, he would see the +impossibility of making them better, would feel the necessity of an +actual hell, black as the darkest that a poet ever fancied." + +As she was thus occupied in her own thoughts, a step--a well-known +step--resounded on the garden-walk, and the good clergyman advanced +from the wicket-gate to the porch. Even now I see that pale face, with +the white hair and large clear eyes! + +He advanced and took my mother cordially by the hand, and was much +affected when he heard of my father's death. My mother thanked him +warmly for the care which he had taken of her child. + +"This child will be a woman soon, and she must be prepared to enter +upon life with all the accomplishments suitable to the position which +she will occupy," continued my mother; "I wish her to remain with you +until she is ready to enter the great world. But she must have proper +instruction in music and dancing. She must not be altogether a wild +country girl, when she goes into society. But, however, my dear Mr. +Walworth, we will talk of this alone." + +Young as I was I could perceive that there was a mystery about my +mother, her previous life, or present position, which the good +clergyman did not feel himself called upon to penetrate. + +She took his arm and led him into the cottage, and they conversed for a +long time alone, while I remained upon the porch, buried in a sort of +dreamy revery, and watching the white clouds as they sailed along the +summer sky. + +"I shall be absent two years," I heard my mother's voice, as leaning on +the good clergyman's arm she again came forth upon the porch; "see that +when I return, in place of this pretty child you will present to me a +beautiful and accomplished lady." + +She took me in her arms and kissed me, while Mr. Walworth exclaimed: + +"Indeed, my dear madam, I can never allow myself to think of Frances' +leaving this home while I am living. She has been with me so long--is +so dear to me--that the very thought of parting with her, is like +tearing my heart-strings!" + +He spoke with undisguised emotion; my mother took him warmly by the +hand, and again thanked him for the care and love which he had lavished +on her child. + +At length she said "Farewell!" and I watched her as she went down the +garden-walk to the wicket gate, and then across the road, until she +entered a by-path which wound among the hills of the Neprehaun into the +valley below. She was lost to my sight in the shadows of the foliage. +She emerged to view again far down the valley, and I saw her enter her +grand carriage, and saw her kerchief waving from the carriage window, +as it rolled away. + +I watched, O! how earnestly I watched, until the carriage rose to +sight on the summit of a distant hill, beyond the spire of the village +church. Then, as it disappeared and bore my mother from my sight, I sat +down and wept bitterly. + +Would I had never seen her face again! + +A year passed away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MAIDENHOOD. + + +It was June again. One summer evening I took the path which led from +the garden to the summit of the hill which rose behind the cottage. +As I pursued my way upward the sun was setting, and at every step I +obtained a broader glimpse of the river, the dark Palisades, and the +bay white with sails. When I reached the summit, the sun was on the +verge of the horizon, and the sky in the west all purple and gold. +Seating myself on the huge rock, which rose on the summit, surrounded +by a circle of grand old trees, I surrendered myself to the quiet +and serenity of the evening hour. The view was altogether beautiful. +Beneath me sloped the broad hills, clad in wheat which already was +changing from emerald to gold. Farther down, my cottage home half +hidden among trees. Then beneath the cottage, the homes of the village +dotting the hills, among which wound the Neprehaun. The broad river +and the wide bay heaving gently in the fading light, and the dark +Palisades rising blackly against the gold and purple sky. A lovelier +view cannot be imagined. And the air was full of summer--scented with +breath of vines and blossoms and new-mown hay. As I surrendered myself +to thoughts which arose unbidden, the first star came tremulously into +view, and the twilight began to deepen into night. I was thinking of my +life--of the past--of the future. A strange vision of the great world, +struggled into dim shape before the eye of my mind. + +"A year more, and I will enter the great world!" I ejaculated. A hand +was laid lightly on my shoulder. I started to my feet with a shriek. + +"What, Frank, don't you know me?" said a half laughing voice, and I +beheld beside me a youth of some nineteen or twenty years, whose face, +shaded by dark hair, was touched by the last flush of the declining +day. It was Ernest, the only son of the good clergyman. I had not seen +him for three years. In that time, he had grown from boyhood into young +manhood. He sat beside me on the rock, and we talked together as freely +as when we were but little children. Ernest was full of life and hope; +his voice grew deep, his dark eyes large and lustrous, as he spoke of +the prospects of his future. + +"In one year, Frank, I will graduate and then,--then,--the great world +lies before me!" His gaze was turned dreamily to the west, and his fine +features drawn in distinct profile against the evening sky. + +"And what part, Ernest, will you play in the great world?" + +"Father wishes me to enter into the ministry, but,--" and he uttered +a joyous, confident laugh,--"whatever part I play, I know that I will +win!" + +He uttered these words in the tone of youth and hope, that has never +been darkened by a shadow, and then turning to me,-- + +"And you, Frank, what part will you play in the great world?" he said. + +"I know not. My career is in the hands of my only parent, who will +come next year to take me hence. My childhood has been wrapped in +mystery; and my future, O, who can foretell the future?" + +He gazed at me, for the first time, with an earnest and searching gaze. +His eyes, large and gray, and capable of the most varied expression, +became absent and dreamy. + +"You are very beautiful!" he said, as though thinking aloud,--"O, very +beautiful! You will marry rich,--yes,--wealth and position will be +yours at once." + +And as the moon, rising over the brow of the hill, poured her light +upon his thoughtful face, he took my hand and said: + +"Frank, why is it that certain natures live only in the future or +the past--never in the present? Look at ourselves, for instance. +Yonder among the trees, bathed in the light of the rising moon, lies +the cottage home in which we have passed the happiest, holiest hours +of life. Of that home we are not thinking now--we are only looking +forward to the future--and yet the time will come, when immersed in the +conflict of the world, we will look back to that home, with the same +yearning that one, stretched upon the couch of hopeless disease, looks +forward to his grave!" + +His voice was low and solemn--I never forgot his words. We sat for +many minutes in silence. At length without a word, he took my hand, +and we went down the hill together, by the light of the rising moon. +We climbed the stile, passed under the garden boughs, and entered the +cottage, and found the good old man seated in his library among his +books. He raised his eyes as we came in, hand joined in hand, and a +look of undisguised pleasure stole over his face. + +"See here, father," said Ernest laughingly, "when I went to college, I +left my little sister in your care. I now return, and discover that my +little sister has disappeared, and left in her place this wild girl, +whom I found wandering to-night among the hills. Don't you think there +is something like a witch in her eyes?" + +The old man smiled and laid his hand on my dark hair. + +"Would to heaven!" he said, "that she might never leave this quiet +home." And the prayer came from his heart. + +Ernest remained with us until fall. Those were happy days. We read, +we talked, we walked, we lived with each other. More like sister and +sister than brother and sister, we wandered arm-in-arm to the brow of +the hill as the rich summer evening came on,--or crossed the river in +early morning, and climbed the winding road that led to the brow of +the Palisades,--or sat, at night, under the trees by the river's bank, +watching the stars as they looked down into the calm water. Sometimes +at night, we sat in the library, and I read while the old man's hand +rested gently on my head and Ernest sat by my side. And often upon the +porch, as the summer night wore on, Ernest and myself sang together +some old familiar hymn, while "Father" listened in quiet delight. Thus +three months passed away, and Ernest left for college. + +"Next year, Frank, I graduate," he cried, his thoughtful face flushed +with hope, and his gray eyes full of joyous light--"and then for the +battle with the world!" + +He left, and the cottage seemed blank and desolate. The good clergyman +felt his absence most keenly. + +"Well, well," he would mutter, "a year is soon round and then Ernest +will be with us again!" + +As for myself, I tried my books, my harp, took long walks alone, busied +myself in household cares, but I could not reconcile myself to the +absence of Ernest. + +Winter came, and one night a letter arrived from Ernest to his +father, and in that letter one for--Frank! How eagerly I took it from +"father's" hand and hurried to my room,--that room which I remember yet +so vividly, with its window opening on the garden, and the picture of +the Virgin Mary on the snow-white wall. Unmindful of the cold, I sat +down alone and perused the letter, O, how eagerly! It was a letter from +a brother to a sister, and yet beneath the calm current of a brother's +love, there flowed a deeper and a warmer love. How joyously he spoke of +his future, and how strangely he seemed to mingle my name with every +image of that future! I read his letter over and over, and slept with +it upon my bosom; and I dreamed, O! such air-castle dreams, in which +a whole lifetime seemed to pass away, while Ernest and Frank, always +young, always happy, went wandering, hand-in-hand, under skies without +a cloud. But I awoke in fright and terror. It seemed to me that a cold +hand--like the hand of a corpse--was laid upon my bosom, and somehow +I thought that my mother was dead and that it was her hand. I started +up in fright and tears, and lay shuddering until the rising sun shone +gayly through the frosted window-pane. + +Another year had nearly passed away. + +It was June again, and it was toward evening that I stood upon the +cottage porch watching--not the cloudless sky and glorious river bathed +in the setting sun--but watching earnestly for the sound of a footstep. +Ernest was expected home. He had graduated with all the honors--he +was coming home! How I watched and waited for that welcome step! At +last the wicket-gate was opened, and Ernest's step resounded on the +garden-walk. Concealing myself among the vines which covered one of +the pillars of the porch, I watched him as he approached, determining +to burst upon him in a glad surprise as soon as he reached the steps. +His head was downcast, he walked with slow and thoughtful steps; his +long black hair fell wild and tangled on his shoulders. The joyous +hue of youth on his cheek had been replaced by the pallor of long and +painful thought. The hopeful boy of the last year had been changed into +the moody and ambitious man! As he came on, although my heart swelled +to bursting at sight of him, I felt awed and troubled, and forgot my +original intention of bursting upon him in a merry surprise. He reached +the porch--he ascended the step--and I glided silently from behind the +pillar and confronted him. O, how his face lighted up as he saw me! His +eyes, no longer glassy and abstracted, were radiant with a delight too +deep for words! + +"Frank!" he said, and silently pressed my hand. + +"Ernest," was all I could reply, and we stood in silence--both +trembling, agitated--and gazing into each other's eyes. + +The good Clergyman was happy that evening, as he sat at the supper +table, with Frank on one hand and Ernest on the other. And old Alice +peering at us through her spectacles could not help remarking, "Well, +well, only yesterday children, and now such a handsome _couple_!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +ON THE ROCK. + + +After supper, Ernest and I went to the rock on the summit of the hill, +where we had met the year before. The scene was the same,--the river, +the bay, the dark Palisades, and the vast sky illumined by the rising +moon,--but somehow we seemed changed. We sat apart from each other on +the rock, and sat for a long time in silence. Ernest, with downcast +eyes, picked in an absent way at some flowers which grew in the +crevices of the rock. And I,--well I believe I tied the strings of my +sun-bonnet into all sorts of knots. I felt half disposed to laugh and +half disposed to cry. + +At last I broke the silence:-- + +"You have fulfilled your words, Ernest," I said, "You have graduated +with all the honors--as last year you said you would,--and now a bright +career stretches before you. You will go forth into the great world, +you will battle, you will win!" + +"Frank," said he, stretching forth his hand,--"Do you see yonder river +as it flows broad and rapid, in the light of the rising moon? You speak +of a bright career before me--now I almost wish that I was quietly +asleep beneath those waves." + +The sadness of his tone and look went to my heart. + +"You surprise me, Frank. Now,"--and I attempted a laugh--"You have not +fallen in love, since last year, have you?" + +He looked up and surveyed me from head to foot. I was dressed in +white--my hair fell in loose curls to my shoulders. In a year I had +passed from the girl into the woman. I was taller, my form more roundly +developed. And as he gazed upon me, I was conscious that he was +remarking the change which had taken place in my appearance, and that +his look was one of ardent admiration. + +"Do _you_ think that I have fallen in love _since_ last year?" he said +slowly and with a meaning look. + +I turned away from his gaze, and exclaimed-- + +"But you are moody, Ernest. Last year you were so hopeful--now so +melancholy. You _can_, you will succeed in life." + +"That I can meet with what the world calls success, I do not doubt," +he replied: "There is the career of the popular preacher, armed with a +white handkerchief and a velvet Gospel,--of the lawyer, growing rich +with the rent paid to him by crime, and devoting all the powers of his +immortal soul to prove that black is white and white is black--of the +merchant, who sees only these words painted upon the face of God's +universe, 'Buy cheap and sell dear,'--careers such as these, Frank, +are before me, and I am free to choose, and doubt not but that I could +succeed in any of them. But to achieve such success I would not spend, +I do not say the labor of years--No,--I would not spend the thought of +a single hour." + +"But the life of a good Minister of the Gospel, Ernest, living in some +quiet country town, dividing his time between his parishioners and his +books, and dwelling in a home like the cottage yonder--what say you to +such a life, Ernest?" + +He raised his eyes, and again surveyed me earnestly--"Ambitious as I +am, I would sacrifice every thought of ambition for a life such as you +picture--but upon one condition,"--he paused-- + +"And that condition?" I said in a low voice. + +"Ask your own heart," was his reply, uttered in a tremulous voice. + +I felt my bosom heave,--was agitated, trembling I knew not why,--but I +made no answer. + +There was a long and painful pause. + +"The night is getting chill," I said at length, for want of something +better to say: "Father is waiting for us. Let us go home." + +I led the way down the path, and he followed moodily, without a word. +As he helped me over the stile I saw that his face was pale, his lips +tightly compressed. And when we came into the presence of his Father, +he replied to the old man's kind questions, in a vacant and abstracted +manner. I bade him "good night!" at last; he answered me, but added in +a lower tone, inaudible to the old man, "Young and rich and beautiful, +you are beyond the reach of--a _country clergyman_." + +The next morning while we were at breakfast, a letter came. It was from +my mother. To-morrow she would come and take me from the cottage! + +The letter dropped from the old man's hand, and Ernest rising abruptly +from the table, rushed from the room. + +And I was to leave the home of my happiest hours, and go forth into the +great world! The thought fell like a thunderbolt upon every heart in +the cottage. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +AMONG THE PALISADES. + + +After an hour Ernest met me on the porch; he was very pale. + +"Frank," said he, kindly, "To-morrow you will leave us forever. Would +you not like to see once more the place yonder,"--he pointed across +the river to the Palisades--"where we spent so many happy hours last +summer?" + +He spoke of that dear nook, high up among the rocks, encircled by +trees, and canopied by vines, where, we had indeed spent many a happy +hour. + +I made no reply, but put on my sun-bonnet and took his arm, and in a +little while we were crossing the river, he rowing, while I sat in the +stern. It was a beautiful day. We arrived at the opposite shore, at +a point where the perpendicular wall of the Palisades, is for a mile +or more, broken by a huge and sloping hill, covered with giant forest +trees. Together we took the serpentine path, which, winding toward all +points of the compass, led to the top of the Palisades. The birds were +singing, the broad forest leaves and hanging vines quivered in the sun, +the air was balmy, and the day the very embodiment of the freshness +and fragrance of June. As we wound up the road (whose brown graveled +surface contrasted with the foliage), we saw the sunlight streaming +in upon the deep shadows of the wood, and heard from afar the lulling +music of a waterfall. Departing from the beaten road, we wandered among +the forest trees, and talked together as gladly and as familiarly as +in other days. There we wandered for hours, now in sunlight, now in +shadow, now resting upon the brow of some moss-covered rock, and now +stopping beside a spring of clear cold water, half hidden by thick +green leaves. As noon drew near, we ascended to the top of the forest +hill, and passing through a wilderness of tangled vines, came suddenly +upon a rude farmhouse, one story high, built of logs, whose dark +surface contrasted with the verdure of the garden and the foliage of +the overshadowing tree. It was the same as in the year before. There +was the well-pole rising above its roof and the well-bucket moist with +clear cold water, and in the doorway stood the farmer's dame, who had +often welcomed us to her quiet home. + +"Bless me! how handsome my children have grown!" she cried, "and how's +the good Domine? Come in, come in; the folks are all away in the +fields; come in and rest you, and have some pie and milk, and"--she +paused for breath--"and some dinner." + +The good dame would take no denial, and we sat down to dinner with +her--I can see the scene before me now--the carefully sanded floor, the +old clock in the corner, the cupboard glistering with the burnished +pewter, the neatly spread table, the broad hearth, covered with green +boughs, and the open windows, with the sunbeams playing through the +encircling vines. And then the good dame with her high cap, round, +good-humored face, and spectacles resting on the bridge of her hooked +nose. As we broke the home-made bread with her, we were as gay as larks. + +"Well, I do like to see young folks enjoy themselves," said the +dame.--"You don't know how often I've thought of you since you were +here last summer. I have said, and I will say it, that a handsomer +brother and sister I never yet did see." + +"But you mistake," said Ernest, "We're not brother and sister." + +"Only cousins," responded the dame, surveying us attentively, "Well, +I'm glad of it, for there's no law ag'in cousins marryin', and you'd +make such a handsome couple." And she laughed until her sides shook. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN THE FOREST NOOK. + + +Leaving the farmhouse, we bent our way to the Palisades again. We +had been gay and happy all the morning, now we became thoughtful. We +entered a narrow path, and presently came upon the dear nook where we +had spent so many happy hours. It was a quiet space of green-sward +and velvet moss, encircled on all sides, save one, by the trunks of +giant forest trees--the oak, the tulip poplar and the sycamore--which +arose like rugged columns, their branches forming a roof far overhead. +Half-way between the sward and the branches, hung a drapery of vines, +swinging in the sunlight, and showering blossoms and fragrance on the +summer air. Light shrubbery grew between the massive trunks of the +trees, and in one part of the glade a huge rock arose, its summit +projecting over the sward, and forming a sort of canopy or shelter for +a rustic seat fashioned of oaken boughs. Looking upward through the +drapery of vines and the roof of boughs, only one glimpse of blue sky +was visible. Toward the east the glade was open, and over the tops of +the forest trees (which rose from the glen beneath), you saw the river, +the distant village and my cottage home shining in the sun. At the +foot of the oak which formed one of the portals of the glade, was a +clear cold spring, resting in a basin of rock, and framed in leaves and +flowers. Altogether the dear nook of the forest was worthy of June. + +For a moment we surveyed this quiet scene--thought of the many happy +hours we had spent there in the previous summer--and then turning our +faces to the east, we stood, hand link'd in hand, gazing over forest +trees and river upon our far-off cottage home. + +"Does it not look beautiful, as it shines there in the sun?"--I said. + +Ernest at first did not reply, but turned his gaze full upon me. His +face was flushed and there was a strange fire in his eyes. + +"To-morrow you leave that home forever," he exclaimed, and I trembled, +I knew not why at the sound of his voice--"I will never see you +again--I--" he dropped my hand and turned his face away. I saw his +head fall on his breast, and saw that breast heave with agitation; +urged by an impulse I could not control, I glided to his side, put my +hand upon his arm, and looked up into his face. + +"Ernest," I whispered. + +He turned to me, for a moment regarded me with a look of intense +passion and then caught me to his heart. His arms were around me, my +bosom heaved against his breast, his kiss was on my lips--the first +kiss since childhood, and O, how different from the kiss which a +brother presses on a sister's lips! + +"Frank I love you! Many beautiful women have I seen, but there is that +in your gaze, your voice, your very presence, which is Heaven itself +to me. I cannot live without you! and cannot, cannot think of losing +you without madness. Frank, be mine, be my wife! Be mine, and the home +which shines yonder in the sunlight shall be ours! Frank, for God's +sake say you love me!" + +He sank at my feet and clasped my knees with his trembling hands. O the +joy, the rapture of that moment! As I saw his face upraised to mine, +I felt that I loved him with all my soul, that I could die for him. +Reaching forth my hands I drew him gently to his feet, and fell upon +his breast and called him, "Husband!" Would I had died there, on his +bosom, even as his lips met mine, and the words "my wife!" trembled on +my ear! Would I had at that moment fallen dead upon his breast! + +Even as he gathered me to his bosom the air all at once grew dark; +looking overhead, we saw a vast cloud rolling up the heavens, dark +as midnight, yet fringed with sunlight. On and on it rolled, the air +grew darker, darker, an ominous thunder-peal broke over our heads, +and rolled away among the gorges of the hills. Then the clouds grew +dark as night. We could not see each other's faces. For a moment our +distant home shone in sunlight, and then the eastern sky was wrapt +in clouds, the river hidden by driving rain. Trembling with fright I +clung to Ernest's neck--he bore me to the beech in the shadow of the +rock--another thunder peal and a flash of lightning that blinded me. I +buried my face in his bosom, to hide my eyes from that awful glare. The +tempest which had arisen so suddenly--even as we exchanged our first +vows--was now upon us and in power. The trees rocked to the blast. The +distant river was now dark and now one mass of sheeted flame. Peal on +peal the thunder burst over our heads, and as one peal died away in +distant echoes, another more awful seemed hurled upon us, from the very +zenith. And amid the darkness and glare of that awful storm, I clung to +Ernest's neck, my bosom beating against his heart, and we repeated our +vows, and talked of our marriage, and laid plans for our future. + +"Frank, my heart is filled with an awful foreboding," he said, and his +voice was so changed and husky, that I raised my head from his bosom, +and even in the darkness sought to gaze upon his face. A lightning +flash came and was gone, but by that momentary glare, I saw his +countenance agitated in every lineament. + +"What mean you Ernest?" + +"You will leave our home to-morrow and never return, never! The +sunshine which was upon us, as we exchanged our vows, was in a moment +succeeded by the blackness of the awful tempest. A bad omen, Frank, a +dark prophecy of our future. There is only one way to turn the omen of +evil, into a prophecy of good." + +He drew me close in his arms, and bent his lips to my ear--"Be mine, +and now! be mine! Let the thunder-peal be our marriage music, this +forest glade our marriage couch!" + +I was faint, trembling, but I sprang from his arms, and stood erect in +the center of the glade. My dark hair fell to my shoulders; a flash of +lightning lit up my form, clad in snow-white. As wildly, as completely +as I loved him, I felt my eyes flash with indignation. + +"Words like these to a girl who has been reared under your father's +roof!" + +He fell at my feet, besought my forgiveness in frantic tones, and +bathed my hands with his tears. + +I fainted in his arms. + +When I unclosed my eyes again, I found myself pure and virgin in the +arms of my plighted husband. The clouds were parting, the tempest was +over, and the sun shone out once more. Every leaf glittered with +diamond drops. The last blast of the storm was passing over the distant +river, and through the driving clouds, I saw the sunlight shining once +more upon our cottage home. + +"Forgive me, Frank, forgive me," he cried, bending passionately +over me. "See! Your bad omen has been turned into good!" I cried +joyfully--"First the sunshine, then the storm, but now the sun shines +clear again;" and I pointed to the diamond drops glittering in the sun. + +"And you will be true to me, Frank?" + +"Before heaven I promise it, in life, in death, forever!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +HOME, ADIEU! + + +It was toward the close of the afternoon that we took our way from the +glade through the forest to the river shore. We crossed the river, and +passed through the village. Together we ascended the road that led +to our home, and at the wicket-gate, found a splendid carriage with +liveried servants. + +The good clergyman stood at the gate, his bared forehead and white +hairs bathed in the sunshine; beside him, darkly dressed, diamonds upon +her rich attire, my mother. Old Alice stood weeping in the background. + +"Come, Frank, your things are packed and we must be away," she said, +abruptly, as though we had seen each other only the day before; "I wish +to reach our home in New York, before night. Go in the house dear," she +kissed me, "and get your bonnet and shawl. Quick my love!" + +Not daring to trust myself to speak--for my heart was full to +bursting--I hurried through the gate, and along the garden walk. + +"How beautiful she has grown!" I heard my mother exclaim. One look into +the old familiar library room, one moment in prayer by the bed, in +which I had slept since childhood! + +Placing the bonnet on my curls, and dropping my shawl around me, I +hurried from my cottage home. There were a few moments of agony, of +blessings, of partings and tears. Old Alice pressed me in her arms, and +bid me good-by. The good old clergyman laid his hands upon my head, and +lifting his beaming eyes to heaven, invoked the blessing of God upon my +head. + +"I give your child to you again!" he said, placing me in my mother's +arms--"May she be a blessing to you, as for years past she has been the +blessing and peace of my home!" + +I looked around for Ernest; he had disappeared. + +I entered the carriage, and sank sobbing on the seat. + +"But I am not taking the dear child away from you forever," said my +mother, bending from the carriage window. "She will come and see you +often, my dear Mr. Walworth, and you will come and see her. You have +the number of our town residence on that card. And bring your son, and +good Alice with you, and,----" + +The carriage rolled away. + +So strange and unexpected had been the circumstances of this departure +from my home, that I could scarce believe myself awake. + +I did not raise my head, until we had descended the hill, passed the +village and gained a mile or more on our way. + +We were ascending a long slope, which led to the summit of a hill, from +which, I knew, I might take a last view of my childhood's home. + +As we reached the summit of the hill, my mother was looking out of one +window toward the river, and I looked out of the other, and saw, beyond +the church spire and over the hills, the white walls of my home. + +"Frank!" whispered a low voice. + +Ernest was by the carriage. There was a look exchanged, a word, and he +was gone. Gone into the trees by the? roadside. + +He left a flower in my hand. I placed it silently in my bosom. + +"Frank! How beautiful you have grown!" said my mother, turning from the +window, and fixing upon me an ardent and admiring gaze. And the next +moment she was wrapt in thought and the wrinkle grew deeper between her +brows. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +ERNEST AND HIS SINGULAR ADVENTURE. + + +Before I resume my own history, I must relate an instance in the +life of Ernest, which had an important bearing on his fate. (This +incident I derive from MSS. written by Ernest himself.) Soon after my +departure from the cottage home, he came to New York with his father, +and they directed their steps to my mother's residence; as indicated +on the card which she had left with the clergyman; but to their great +disappointment, they discovered that my mother and myself had just left +town for Niagara Falls. Six months afterward, Ernest received a long +letter from me, concluding with these words: "_To-morrow, myself and +mother take passage for Europe, in the steamer. We will be absent for a +year or more._" + +Determined to see me at all hazards, he hurried to town, but, too +late! The steamer had sailed; her flag fluttered in the air, far down +the bay, as standing on the battery, Ernest followed her course, with +an almost maddened gaze. Sorrowfully he returned to the country and +informed his father of my sudden departure for Europe. + +"Can she have forgotten us?" said the old man. + +"O, father, this letter," replied Ernest, showing the long letter which +I had written, "this will show you that she has not forgotten us, but +that her heart beats warmly as ever--that she is the same." + +And he read the letter to the good old man, who frequently interrupted +him, with "God bless her! God bless my child!" + +Soon afterward Ernest came to New York and entered his name in +the office of an eminent lawyer. Determining to make the law his +profession, he hoped to complete his studies before my return from +Paris. He lived in New York, and began to move in the circles of its +varied society. Among the acquaintances which he made were certain +authors and artists who, once a month, in company with a few select +friends, gave a social supper at a prominent hotel. + +At one of these suppers Ernest was a guest. The wine passed round, wit +sparkled, and the enjoyment of the festival did not begin to flag even +when midnight drew near. + +While one of the guests was singing, a portly gentleman (once well +known as a man of fashion, the very Brummel of the sidewalk) began to +converse with Ernest in a low voice. + +He described a lady--a young widow with a large fortune--who at that +time occupied a large portion of the interest of certain circles in +New York. She was exceedingly beautiful. She was witty, accomplished, +eloquent. She rivaled in fascination Ninon and Aspasia. Nightly, to +a select circle, she presided over festivals whose voluptuousness +was masked in flowers. Her previous history was unknown, but she had +suddenly entered the orbit of New York social life--of a peculiar kind +of social life--as a star of the first magnitude. His blood heated by +wine, his imagination warmed by the description of his fashionable +friend, Ernest manifested great curiosity to behold this singular lady. + +"You shall see her to-night--at once," whispered the fashionable +gentleman. "She gives a select party to-night. Let us glide off from +the company unobserved." + +They passed from the company, took their hats and cloaks--it was a +clear, cold winter night--and entered a carriage. + +"I will introduce you by the name of Johnson--Fred. Johnson, a rich +southern planter," said the fashionable gentleman. "You need not call +me by my real name. Call me Lawson." + +"But why this concealment?" asked Ernest, as the carriage rolled on. + +"O, well, never mind," added Lawson (as he desired to be called), and +then continued: "We'll soon be near her mansion, or _palace_ is the +more appropriate word. We will find some of the first gentlemen and +finest ladies of New York under her roof. I tell you, she'll set you +half wild, this 'Midnight Queen!'" + +"Midnight Queen!" echoed Ernest. + +"That's what we call her. A 'Midnight Queen' indeed, as mysterious and +voluptuous as the midnight moon shining in an Italian sky." + +They arrived in front of a lofty mansion, situated in one of the most +aristocratic parts of New York. Its exterior was dark and silent as the +winter midnight itself. + +"A light hid under a bushel--outside dark enough, but inside bright as +a new dollar," whispered Lawson, ascending the marble steps and ringing +the bell. + +The door was opened for the space of six inches or more,-- + +"Who's there?" said a voice from within. + +Lawson bent his face near to the aperture and whispered a few words +inaudible to Ernest. The door was opened wide, and carefully closed and +bolted behind them, as soon as they crossed the threshold. They stood +in a vast hall lighted by a hanging lamp. + +"Leave hats and cloaks here--and come." Lawson took Ernest by the hand +and pushed open a door. + +They entered a range of parlors, brilliantly lighted by two +chandeliers, as brilliantly furnished with chairs and sofas and +mirrors, and adorned with glowing pictures and statues of white marble. +A piano stood in a recess, and in the last parlor of the three a +supper-table was spread. These parlors were crowded by some thirty +guests, men and women, some of whom, seated on chairs and sofas, were +occupied in low whispered conversation, while others took wine at the +supper-table, and others again were grouped round the piano, listening +to the voice of an exceedingly beautiful woman. + +Ernest uttered an ejaculation. Never had he seen a spectacle like this, +never seen before, grouped under one roof, so many beautiful women. +Beautiful women, richly dressed, their arms and shoulders bare, or +vailed only by mist-like lace, which gave new fascination to their +charms. It did not by any means decrease the surprise of Ernest when +he discovered that some of the ladies--those whose necks and shoulders +glowed most white and beautiful in the light--wore masks. + +"What is this place?" he whispered to Lawson, as apparently unheeded by +the guests, they passed through the parlors. + +"Hush! not so loud," whispered his companion. "Take a glass of wine, my +boy, and your eyesight will be clearer. This place is a quiet little +retreat in which certain gentlemen and ladies of New York, by no +means lacking in wealth or position, endeavor to carry the Koran into +practice, and create, even in our cold climate, a paradise worthy of +Mahomet. In a word, it is the residence of a widowed lady, who, blest +with fortune and all the good things which fortune brings, delights in +surrounding herself with beautiful women and intellectual men. How do +you like that wine? There are at least a hundred gentlemen in New York, +who would give a cool five hundred to stand where you stand now, or +even cross the threshold of this mansion. I'm an old stager, and have +brought you here in order to enjoy the effect which a scene like this +produces on one so inexperienced as you. But you must remember one law +which governs this place and all who enter it--" + +"That condition?" + +"All that is said or done here remains a secret forever within the +compass of these walls; and you must never recognize, in any other +place, any person whom you have first encountered here. This is a +matter of honor, Walworth." + +"And where is the 'Midnight Queen?'" + +"She is not with her guests, I see--but I will give you an answer in a +moment," and Lawson left the room. + +Drinking glass after glass of champagne, Ernest stood by the +supper-table, a silent spectator of that scene, whose voluptuous +enchantment gradually inflamed his imagination and fired his blood. +He seemed to have been suddenly transported from dull matter-of-fact, +every-day life, to a scene in some far oriental city, in the days of +Haroun Alraschid. And he surrendered himself to the enchantment of the +place, like one for the first time enjoying the intoxication of opium. + +Lawson returned, and came quietly to his side-- + +"Would you like to see the 'Midnight Queen,'--alone--in her parlor?" he +whispered. + +"Of all things in the world. You have roused my curiosity. I am like a +man in a delicious dream." + +"Understand me--she is chary of her smiles to an old stager like +me--but I think, that there is something in you that will interest her. +She awaits you in her apartments. You are a young English lord on your +travels (better than a planter), Lord Stanley Fitz Herbert. With that +black dress and somber face of yours you will take her wonderfully." + +"But can I indeed see her?" + +"Leave the room--ascend the stairs--at the head of the stairs a light +shines from a door which is slightly open; take a bold heart and enter." + +Inflamed by curiosity, by the wine which he had drunk, and the scene +around him, Ernest did not take time for a second thought, but left +the room, ascended the stairs, and stood before the door from whose +aperture a belt of light streamed out upon the dark passage. There, +for a moment, he hesitated, but that was all. He opened the door and +entered. He stood spell-bound by the scene. If the parlors below were +magnificently furnished, this apartment was worthy of an empress. There +were lofty walls hung with silk hangings and adorned with pictures; a +couch with a silken canopy; mirrors that glittered gently in the rich +voluptuous light; in a word, every detail of luxury and extravagance. + +In the center of all stood the "Midnight Queen"--in one hand she held +an open letter. Her back was toward Ernest as he lingered near the +threshold. Her neck and shoulders were bare, and he could remark at a +glance their snowy whiteness and voluptuous outline, although her dark +hair was gathered in glossy masses upon the shoulders, half hiding them +from view. A dark dress, rich in its very simplicity, left her arms +bare and did justice to the rounded proportions of her form. + +She turned and confronted Ernest, even as he, the blood bounding in his +veins, advanced a single step. + +At once they spoke: + +"My Lord Stanley, I believe,--" + +"The 'Midnight Queen,'--" + +The words died on their lips. They stood as if suddenly frozen to the +floor. The beautiful face of the "Midnight Queen" was pale as death, +and as for Ernest, the glow of the wine had left his cheek--his face +was livid and distorted. + +Moments passed and neither had power to speak. + +"O, my God, it is Frank!" the words at last burst from the lips of +Ernest, and he fell like a dead man at her feet. + +Yes, the "Midnight Queen" was Frances Van Huyden, his betrothed +wife--six months ago resting on his bosom and whispering "husband" in +his ear,--and now--the wife of another? A widow? Or one utterly fallen +from all virtue and all hope? + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE PALACE-HOME. + + +Having thus given the incident from the life of Ernest, as far as +possible, in the very words of his MSS., let me continue my history +from the hour when, in company with my mother, I left the cottage home +of the good clergyman. After the incident just related, nothing in my +life can appear strange. + +I was riding in the carriage with my mother toward New York. + +"You are, indeed, very beautiful, Frank," said she, once more regarding +me attentively. "Your form is that of a mature woman, and your carriage +(I remarked it as you passed up the garden-walk) excellent. But this +country dress will not do. We will do better than all that when we get +to town." + +It was night when the carriage left the avenue and rolled into +Broadway. The noise, the glare, the people hurrying by, all frightened +me. At the same time Broadway brought back a dim memory of my early +childhood in Paris. Turning from Broadway, the carriage at length +stopped before a lofty mansion, the windows of which were closed from +the sidewalk to the roof. + +"This is your home," said my mother, as she led me from the carriage up +the marble steps into the hall where, in the light of a globular lamp, +a group of servants in livery awaited us. + +"Jenkins,"--my mother spoke to an elderly servant in dark livery turned +up with red--"let dinner be served in half an hour." Then turning to +another servant, not quite so old, but wearing the same livery, she +said: "Jones, Miss Van Huyden wishes to take a look at her house before +we go to dinner. Take the light and go before us." + +The servant, holding a wax candle placed in a huge silver candlestick, +went before us and showed us the house from the first to the fourth +floor. Never before had I beheld such magnificence even in my dreams. +I could not restrain ejaculations of pleasure and surprise at every +step,--my mother keenly regarding me, sometimes with a faint smile and +sometimes with the wrinkle growing deeper between her brows. A range of +parlors on the lower floor were furnished with everything that the most +extravagant fancy could desire, or exhaustless wealth procure. Carpets +that gave no echo to the step; sofas and chairs cushioned with velvet +and (so it seemed to me) framed in gold; mirrors extending from the +ceiling to the floor; pictures, statues, and tables with tops either +of marble or ebony; the walls lofty, and the ceiling glowing with a +painting which represented Aurora and the Hours winging their way +through a summer sky. + +"Whose picture, mother?" I asked, pointing to a picture of a singularly +handsome man, with dark hair and beard, and eyes remarkable at once for +their brightness and expression. + +"Your father, dear," answered my mother, and again the mark between +her brows became ominously perceptible. "There is your piano, +Frank,--you'll find it something better than the one which you had at +the good parson's." + +The servant led the way, up the wide stairway, thickly carpeted, to the +upper rooms. Here the magnificence of the first floor was repeated on +a grander, a more luxurious scale. We passed through room after room, +my eyes dazzled by new signs of wealth and luxury at every step. At +last we paused on the thick carpet of a spacious bed-chamber, whose +appointments combined the richest elegance with the nicest taste. +It was hung with curtains of light azure. An exquisite and touching +picture of the Virgin Mary confronted the toilette table and mirror. A +bed with coverlet white as snow, satin covered pillows and canopy of +lace, stood in one corner; and wherever I turned there were signs of +neatness, taste and elegance. I could not too much admire the apartment. + +"It is your bedroom, my dear," said my mother, silently enjoying my +delight. + +"Why," said I laughingly,--"it is grand enough for a queen." + +"And are you not a queen," answered my mother, "and a very beautiful +one." Turning to the servant, who stood staring at me with eyes big as +saucers, she said-- + +"Tell Mrs. Jenkins, the housekeeper, to come here:"--Jones left the +chamber, and presently returned with Mrs. Jenkins, a portly lady, with +a round, good-humored face. + +"Frank, this is _your_ housekeeper;"--Mrs. Jenkins simpered and +courtsied, shaking at the same time the bundle of keys at her waist. +"Mrs. Jenkins, this is your young mistress, Miss Van Huyden. Give me +the keys." + +She took the keys from the housekeeper, and placed them in my hands: + +"My dear, this house and all that it contains are yours, I surrender it +to your charge." + +Scarcely knowing what to do with myself I took the keys--which were +heavy enough--and handing them back to Mrs. Jenkins, "hoped that +she would continue to superintend the affairs of my mansion, as +heretofore." All of which pleased my mother and made her smile. + +"We will go to dinner without dressing," and my mother led the way down +stairs to the dining-room. It was a large apartment, in the center +of which stood a luxuriously furnished table, glittering with gold +plate. Servants in livery stood like statues behind my chair and my +mother's. How different from the plain fare and simple style of the +good clergyman's home! Nay how widely contrasted with the rude dinner +in a log cabin to which Ernest and myself sat down a few hours ago! + +In vain I tried to partake of the rich dishes set out before me; I +was too much excited to eat. Dinner over, coffee was served, and the +servants retired. Mother and I were left alone. + +"Frank, do you blame me," she said, looking at me carefully--"for +having you reared so quietly, far away in the country, in order that +at the proper age, strong in health and rich in accomplishments and +beauty, you might be prepared to enter upon the enjoyments and duties +suitable to your station?" + +How could I blame her? + +I spoke gratefully again and again of the wealth and comfort which +surrounded me, and then forgetting it all--broke forth into +impassioned praise of my cottage home, of the good clergyman, of old +Alice and--Ernest. + +Something which came over my mother's face at the mention of Ernest's +name, warned me that it was not yet time to speak of my engagement to +him. + +That night I bathed my limbs in a perfumed bath, laid my head on a +silken pillow, and slept beneath a canopy of lace, as soft and light +and transparent as the summer mist through which you can see the blue +sky and the distant mountain. And resting on the silken pillow I +dreamed--not of the splendor with which I was surrounded, nor of the +golden prospects of my future,--but, of my childhood's home, and the +quiet scenes of other days. In my sleep my heart turned back to them. +Once more I heard the voice of the good old man. I heard the shrill +tones of Alice, as the sun shone on my frosted window-pane, on a clear, +cold winter morn. Then the voice of Ernest, calling me "Wife!" and +pressing me to his bosom in the forest nook. I awoke with his name on +my lips, and,---- + +My mother stood by the bedside gazing upon me attentively, a smile on +her lips, but the wrinkle darkly defined between her brows. The sun +shone brightly through the window curtains. + +"Get up my dear," she kissed me,--"You have a busy day before you." + +And it was a busy day! I was handed over to the milliners and +dressmakers, and whirled in my carriage from one jeweler's shop +to another. It was not until the third day that my dresses were +completed--according to my mother's taste,--and not until the fourth, +that the jewels which were to adorn my forehead, my neck, my arms and +bosom, had been properly selected. Wardrobe and diamonds worthy of a +queen--and was I happy? No! I began to grow homesick, for my dear quiet +home, on the hill-side above the Neprehaun. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +"SHE'LL DO." + + +It was on the fourth day, in the afternoon, that my mother desired +my presence in the parlor, where she wished to present me to a much +esteemed friend, Mr. Wareham--Mr. Wallace Wareham. + +"An excellent man," whispered my mother as we went down stairs +together, "and immensely rich." + +I was richly dressed in black; my neck, my arms and shoulders bare. My +dark hair, gathered plainly aside from my face, was adorned by a single +snow-white flower. As I passed by the mirror in the parlor, I could +not help feeling a throb of womanly pride, or--vanity; and my mother +whispered, "Frank, you excel yourself to-day." + +Mr. Wareham sat on the sofa, in the front parlor, in the mild light +of the curtained window. He was an elderly gentleman, somewhat bald, +and slightly inclined to corpulence. He was sleekly clad in black, and +there was a gold chain across his satin vest, and a brilliant diamond +upon his ruffled bosom. He sat in an easy, composed attitude, resting +both hands on his gold-headed cane. At first sight he impressed me, as +an elderly gentleman, exceedingly _nice_ in his personal appearance; +and that was all. But there was something peculiar and remarkable about +his face and look, which did not appear at first sight. + +I was presented to him: he rose and bowed; and took me kindly by the +hand. + +Then conversing in a calm, even tone, which soon set me at ease, he led +me to talk of my childhood--of my home on the Neprehaun--of the life +which I had passed with the good clergyman. I soon forgot myself in my +subject, and grew impassioned, perchance eloquent. I felt my cheeks +glow and my eyes sparkle. But all at once I was brought to a dead +pause, by remarking the singular expression of Mr. Wareham's face. + +I stopped abruptly--blushed--and at a glance surveyed him closely. + +His forehead was high and bold, and encircled by slight curls of black +hair, streaked with gray,--its expression eminently intellectual. But +the lower part of his face was heavy, almost animal. There was a deep +wrinkle on either side of his mouth, and as for the mouth itself, its +upper lip was thin, almost imperceptible, while the lower one was +large, projecting and of deep red, approaching purple, thus presenting +a singular contrast to the corpse-like pallor of his cheeks. His eyes, +half hidden under the bulging lids, when I began my description of my +childhood's home, all at once expanded, and I saw their real expression +and color. They were large, the eyeballs exceedingly white, and the +pupils clear gray, and their expression reminded you of nothing that +you had ever seen or heard of, but simply made you _afraid_. And as the +eyes expanded, a slight smile would agitate his upper lip, while the +lower one protruded, disclosing a set of artificial teeth, white as +milk. It was the sudden expansion of the eyes, the smile on the upper +lip and the protrusion of the lower one, that made up the peculiar +expression of Mr. Wareham's face,--an expression which made you feel as +though you had just awoke from a grotesque yet frightful dream. + +"Why do you pause, daughter?" said my mother, observing my confusion. + +"Proceed my child," said Mr. Wareham, devouring me from head to foot +with his great eyes, at the same time rubbing his lower lip against the +upper, as though he was tasting something good to eat. "I enjoy these +delightful reminiscences of childhood. I dote on such things." + +But I could not proceed--I blushed again--and the tears came into my +eyes. + +"You have been fatigued by the bustle of the last three days," said my +mother kindly: "Mr. Wareham will excuse you," and she made me a sign to +leave the room. + +Never was a sign more willingly obeyed. I hurried from the room, and as +I closed the door, I heard Mr. Wareham say in a low voice-- + +"She'll do. When will you tell her?" + +That night, as I sat on the edge of my bed, clad in my night-dress--my +dark hair half gathered in a lace cap and half falling on my +shoulders--my mother came suddenly into the room, and placing her +candle on a table, took her seat by me on the bed. She was, as I have +told you, an exceedingly beautiful woman, in spite of the threads of +silver in her hair and the ominous wrinkle between her brows. But as +she sat by me, and put her arm about my neck, toying with my hair, her +look was infinitely affectionate. + +"And what do you think of Mr. Wareham, dear?" she asked me--and I felt +that her gaze was fixed keenly on my face. + +I described my impressions frankly and with what language I could +command, concluding with the words, "In short, I do not like him. He +makes me feel afraid." + +"O, you'll soon get over that," answered my mother. "Now he takes a +great interest in you. Let me tell you something about him. He is a +foreign gentleman, immensely rich; worth hundreds of thousands, perhaps +a million. He has estates in this country, in England and France. He +has traveled over half the globe; on further acquaintance you will be +charmed by his powers of observation, his fund of anecdote, his easy +flow of conversational eloquence. And then he has a good heart, Frank! +I could keep you up all night in repeating but a small portion of his +innumerable acts of benevolence. I met him first in Paris, years ago, +just after he had unhappily married. And since I first met him he has +been my fast friend. He is a good, a noble man, Frank; you _will_, you +_must_ like him." + +"But, then, his eyes, mother! and _that_ lip!" and I cast my eyes +meekly to the floor. + +"Pshaw!" returned my mother, with a start, "don't allow yourself to +make fun of a dear personal friend of mine." She kissed me on the +forehead,--"you _will_ like him, dear," and bade me good-night. + +And on my silken pillow I slept and dreamed--of home,--of the good old +man,--of Ernest and the forest nook,--but all my dreams were haunted by +a vision of two great eyes and a huge red lip--everywhere, everywhere +they haunted me, the lip now projecting over the clergyman's head and +the eyes looking over Ernest's shoulder. I awoke with a start and a +laugh. + +"You are in good spirits, my child," said my mother, who stood by the +bed. + +"I had a frightful dream but it ended funnily. All night long I've seen +nothing but Mr. Wareham's eyes and lip, but the last I saw of them they +were flying like butterflies a few feet above ground, eyes first and +lips next, and old Alice chasing them with her broom." + +"Never mind; you _will_ like him," rejoined my mother. + +I certainly had every chance to like him. For three days he was a +constant visitor at our house. He accompanied mother and myself on a +drive along Broadway and out on the avenue. I enjoyed the excitement +of Broadway and the fresh air of the country, but--Mr. Wareham was +by my side, talking pleasantly, even eloquently, and looking all the +while as if he would like to eat me. We went to the opera, and for the +first time, the fairy world of the stage was disclosed to me. I was +enchanted,--the lights, the costumes, the music, the circle of youth +and beauty, all wrapt me in a delicious dream, but--close by my side +was Mr. Wareham, his eyes expanded and his lip protruding. I thought of +the Arabian Nights and was reminded of a well-dressed Ghoul. I began +to hate the man. On the fourth day he brought me a handsome bracelet, +glittering with diamonds, which my mother bade me accept, and on the +fifth day I hated him with all my soul. There was an influence about +him which repelled me and made me afraid. + +It was the sixth night in my new home, and in my night-dress, I was +seated on the edge of my bed, the candle near, and my mother by my +side. She had entered the room with a serious and even troubled face. +The wrinkle was marked deep between her brows. Fixing my lace cap on +my head and smoothing my curls with a gentle pressure of her hand, she +looked at me long and anxiously but in silence. + +"O, mother!" I said, "when will we visit 'father,'--and good old Alice, +and--Ernest? I am so anxious to see my home again!" + +"You must forget that home," said my mother gravely. "You will shortly +be surrounded by new ties and new duties. Nay, do not start and look at +me with so much wonder. I see that I must be plain with you. Listen to +me, Frank. Who owns this house?" + +"It is yours!" + +"The pictures, the gold plate, the furniture worthy of such a palace?" + +"Yours,--all yours, mother." + +"Who purchased the dresses and the diamonds which you wear,--dresses +and diamonds worthy of a queen?" + +"You did, mother--of course," I hesitated. + +"Wrong, Frank, all wrong!" and her eyes shone vividly, and the mark +between her brows grew blacker. "The house which shelters you, the +furniture which meets your gaze, the dresses which clothe you, and the +diamonds which adorn your person, are the property of--Mr. Wareham." + +It seemed to me as if the floor had opened at my feet. + +"O, mother! you are jesting," I faltered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A REVELATION. + + +"I am a beggar, child, and you are a beggar's daughter. It is to Mr. +Wareham that we are indebted for all that we enjoy. For years he has +paid the expenses of your education; and now that you have grown +to young womanhood he shelters you in a palace, surrounds you with +splendor that a queen might envy, and not satisfied with this,--" + +She paused and fixed her eyes upon my face, I know that I was +frightfully pale. + +"Offers you his hand in marriage." + +For a moment the light, the mirrors, the roof itself swam round me, and +I sank half-fainting in my mother's arms. + +"O! this is but a jest, a cruel jest to frighten me. Say, mother, it is +a jest!" + +"It is not a jest; it is sober, serious earnest;" and she raised me +sternly from her arms. "He has offered his hand, and you _will_ marry +him." + +I flung myself on my knees at the bedside, clasped her hands, and as +my night-dress fell back from my shoulders and bosom, I told her, with +sobs and tears, of my love for Ernest, and my engagement with him. + +"Pshaw! A poor clergyman's son," she said bitterly. + +"O, let us leave this place, mother!" I cried, still pressing her hands +to my bosom. "You say that we are poor. Be it so. We will find a home +together in the home of my childhood. Or if that fails us, I will work +for you. I will toil from sun to sun and all night long,--beg,--do +anything rather than marry this man. For, mother, I cannot help +it,--but I do hate him with all my soul." + +"Pretty talk, very pretty!" and she loosened her hands from my grasp; +"but did you ever try poverty, my child? Did you ever know what the +word meant,--POVERTY? Did you ever work sixteen hours a day, at your +needle, for as many pennies, walk the streets at dead of winter in +half-naked feet, and go for two long days and nights without a morsel +of food? Did you ever try it, my child? That's the life which _poor_ +widows and their pretty daughters live in New York, my dear." + +"But Ernest loves me,--he will make his way in life,--we will be +married,--you will share our home, dear mother." + +These words rendered her perfectly furious. She started up and uttered +a frightful oath--it was the first time I had ever heard an oath from +a woman's lips. Her countenance for a moment was fiendish. She assailed +me with a torrent of reproaches, concluding thus: + +"And this is your gratitude for the care, the anxiety, the very agony +of a mother's anxiety, which I have endured on your account for years! +In return for all you condemn me to--poverty! But it shall not be. One +of us must bend, and that one will not be me. I swear, girl,"--her +brows were knit, she was lividly pale, and she raised her right hand to +heaven,--"that you _shall_ marry this man." + +"And I swear,"--I bounded to my feet, my bosom bare, and the blood +boiling in my veins--perchance it was the same blood which gave my +mother her fiery temper,--"I swear that I will _not_ marry him as long +as there is life in me. Do you hear me, mother? Before I marry that +miserable wretch, whose very presence fills me with loathing, I will +fall a corpse at your feet." + +My words, my attitude took her by surprise. She surveyed me silently +but was too much enraged to speak. + +"O, that my father was living!" I cried, the fit of passion succeeded +by a burst of tears; "he would save me from this hideous marriage." + +My mother quietly drew a letter from her bosom and placed it open in my +hand. + +"Your father is living. That letter is the last one I have received +from him. Read it, my angel." + +I took it,--it was very brief,--I read it at a glance. It was addressed +to my mother, and bore a recent date. These were its contents: + + "DEAR FRANK: + + "My sentence expires in two weeks from to-day. Send me some decent + clothes, and let me know where I will meet you. Glad to hear that your + plans as regards _our daughter_ approach a 'glorious' completion. + + "Yours as ever, + + "CHARLES." + +It was a letter from a convict in Auburn prison,--and that convict was +my father! + +"It is false; my father died years ago," I cried in very agony. "This +is not from my father." + +"It is from your father," answered my mother; "and unless I send him +the clothes which he asks for, you will see him, in less than three +weeks, in his convict rags." + +"O, mother! are you human? A mother to taunt her own daughter with her +father's shame,--" + +My temples throbbed madly and my sight failed. All that mortal can +endure and be conscious, I had endured. I sank on the floor, and had +not my mother caught me in her arms, I would have wounded my forehead +against the marble table. + +All night long, half waking, half delirious, I tossed on my silken +couch mingling the name of my convict father and of Ernest in my broken +exclamations. Once I was conscious for a moment and looked around +with clear eyes. My mother was watching over me. Her face was bathed +in tears. She was _human_ after all. That moment past, the delirium +returned and I struggled with horrible dreams until morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MORPHINE. + + +When I awoke next morning, my mind was clear again, and even as I +unclosed my eyes and saw the sunlight shining gayly through the +curtains, a fixed purpose took possession of my soul. It was yet early +morning. There was no one save myself in the chamber. Perchance worn +out by watching, my mother had retired to rest. I quietly arose and +dressed myself--not in the splendid attire furnished by my mother, but +in the plain white dress, bonnet, and shawl which I had brought with me +from my cottage home. + +"It is early. No one is stirring in the mansion. I can pass from the +hall door unobserved. Then it is only sixteen miles to-home,--only +sixteen miles, I can walk it." + +And at the very thought of meeting "father" and Ernest again, my heart +leaped in my bosom. Determined to escape from the mansion at all +hazards, I drew my vail over my face, my shawl across my shoulders, and +hurried to the door. I opened it, my foot was on the threshold, when I +found myself confronted by the portly form of Mrs. Jenkins. + +"Pardon me, Miss," she said, placing herself directly before me; "your +mother gave me directions to call her as soon as you awoke." + +"But I wish to take a short walk and breathe a little of the morning +air," I answered, and attempted to pass her. + +"The morning air is not good for young ladies," said another voice, and +my mother's face, appeared over the housekeeper's shoulder. "After a +while we shall take a ride, my dear. For the present, you will please +retire to your room." + +Startled at the sound of my mother's voice, I involuntarily stepped +back--the door was closed, and I heard the key turn in the lock. + +I was a prisoner in my own room. There I remained all day long; my +meals were served by the housekeeper and my maid Caroline. My mother +did not appear. How I passed that day, a prisoner in my luxurious +chamber, cannot be described. I sat for hours, with my head resting on +my hands, and my eyes to the floor. What plans of escape, mingled with +forebodings of the future, crossed my brain! At length I took pen and +paper, and wrote a brief note to Ernest, informing him of my danger, +and begging him, as he loved me, to hasten at once to town and to the +mansion. This note I folded, sealed, and directed properly. "Caroline," +said I to my maid, who was a pleasant-faced young woman of about +twenty, with dark hair and eyes--"I would like this letter to be placed +in the post-office at once. Will you take charge of it for me?" + +"I'll give it to Jones," she responded--"he's goin' down to the post +office right away." + +"But Caroline," I regarded her with a meaning look, "I do not wish any +one to know, that I sent this letter to the post-office. Will you keep +it a secret?" + +"Not a livin' mortal shall know it--not a livin' mortal;" and taking +the letter she left the room. After a few minutes she returned with a +smiling face, "Jones has got it and he's gone!" + +I could scarce repress a wild ejaculation of joy. Ernest will receive +it to-night; he will be here to-morrow; I will be saved! + +The day wore on and my mother did not appear. Toward evening Caroline +came into my room, bearing a new dress upon her arm--a dress of white +satin, richly embroidered and adorned with the costliest lace. + +"O, Miss, ain't it beautiful!" cried Caroline, displaying the dress +before me, "and the bonnet and vail to match it, will be here to-night, +an' your new di'monds. It's really fit for a queen." + +It was indeed a magnificent dress. + +"Who is it for?" I asked. + +"Now, come, ain't that good! 'Who is it for?' And you lookin' so +innocent as you ask it. As if you did not know all the while, that it's +your bridal dress, and that you are to be married airly in the mornin', +after which you will set off on your bridal _tower_." + +"Caroline, where did you learn this?" I asked, my heart dying within me. + +"Why, how can you keep such things secret from the servants? Ain't your +mother been gettin' ready for it all day, and ain't the servants been +a-flyin' here and there, like mad? And Mr. Wareham's been so busy all +day, and lookin' _so_ pleased! Laws, Miss, _how_ can you expect to keep +such things from the servants?" + +I heard this intelligence, conveyed in the garrulous manner of my maid, +as a condemned prisoner might hear the reading of his death warrant. I +saw that nothing could shake my mother in her purpose. She was resolved +to accomplish the marriage at all hazards. In the morning I was to be +married, transferred body and soul to the possession of a man whom I +hated in my very heart. + +But I resolved that he should not possess me living. He might marry me, +but he should only place the bridal ring upon the hand of a corpse. + +The resolution came in a moment. How to accomplish it was next my +thought. + +Approaching Caroline in a guarded manner, I spoke of my nervousness and +loss of sleep, and of a vial of _morphine_ which my mother kept by her +for a nervous affection. + +"Could you not obtain it for me, Caroline? and without my mother +seeing you, for she does not like me to accustom myself to the use +of morphine. I am sadly in want of sleep, but I am so nervous that +I cannot close my eyes. Get it for me," I put my arms about her +neck--"that's a dear good girl." + +"Laws, Miss, how kin one resist your purty eyes! It is in the casket on +the bureau, is it? Just wait a moment;" she left the room and presently +returned. She held the vial in her hand. I took it eagerly, pretended +to place it in the drawer of a cabinet which stood near the bed, but, +in reality, hid it in my bosom. + +"Now mother, you may force on the marriage," I mentally ejaculated; +"but your daughter has the threads of her own destiny in her hand." + +How had I accustomed myself to the idea of suicide? It came upon me not +slowly, but like a flash of lightning. It was in opposition to all the +lessons I had learned from the good clergyman. 'But,' the voice of the +tempter, seemed whispering in my ear--'while suicide is a crime, it +becomes a virtue when it is committed to avoid a greater crime.' It is +wrong to kill my body, but infinitely worse to kill both body and soul +in the prostitution of an unholy marriage. + +As evening drew on I was left alone. I bathed myself, arranged my hair, +and then attired myself in my white night-robe. And then, as the last +glimpse of day came faintly through the window curtains, I sank on +my knees by the bed, and prayed. O how in one vivid picture the holy +memories of the past came upon me, in that awful moment! + +"Ernest I will meet you in the better world!" + +I drank the contents of the vial and rose to my feet. At the same +instant the door opened and my mother appeared, holding a lighted +candle in her hand. She saw me in my white dress, was struck, +perchance, by the wildness of my gaze, and then her eye rested upon the +extended hand which held the vial. + +"Well, Frank, how do you like your marriage dress," she began, but +stopped, and changed color as she saw the vial. + +"O, mother," I cried, "with my last breath I forgive you, and pray God +that you may be able to forgive yourself." + +I saw her horror-stricken look and I fell insensible at her feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SALE IS COMPLETE. + + +When I awoke again--but I cannot proceed. There are crimes done every +day, which the world knows by heart, and yet shudders to see recorded, +even in the most carefully vailed phrase. But the crime of which I +was the victim, was too horrible for belief. Wareham the criminal, my +own mother the accomplice, the victim a girl of fifteen, who had been +reared in purity and innocence afar from the world. + +When I awoke again--for the potion failed to kill--I found myself in my +room, and Wareham by my side, surveying me as a ghoul might look upon +the dead body which he has stolen from the grave. The vial given to +me by the maid did not contain a fatal poison, but merely a powerful +anodyne, which sealed my senses for hours in sleep, and--combined with +the reaction of harrowing excitement--left me for days in a state of +half dreamy consciousness. I awoke * * * * My sight was dim, my senses +dulled, but I knew that I was lost! Lost! O, how poor and tame that +word, to express the living damnation of which I was the victim! The +events of the next twenty-four hours, I can but vaguely remember. I was +taken from the bed, arrayed in the bridal costume, and then led down +stairs into the parlor. There was a marriage celebrated there (as I was +afterward told)--yes! it was there that a minister of the Gospel, book +in hand, sanctified with the name of marriage, the accursed bargain +of which I was the victim--marriage, that sacrament which makes of +home, God's holiest altar, the truest type of Heaven--marriage was, +in my case, made the cloak of an unspeakable crime. I can remember +that I said some words, which my mother whispered in my ear, and that +I signed my name to a letter which she had written. It was the letter +which Ernest received, announcing my intention to visit Niagara. As for +the letter which I had written to him, on the previous day, it never +went farther than from the hands of Caroline to those of my mother. I +was hurried into a carriage, Wareham by my side, and then on board of +a steamboat, and have a vague consciousness of passing up the Hudson +river. I did not clearly recover my senses, until I found myself at +Niagara Falls, leaning on Wareham's arm, and pointed at by the crowd of +visitors at the Falls, as "the beautiful bride of the Millionaire." + +From the Falls, we passed up the Lakes, and then retraced our steps; +visited the Falls again; journeyed to Montreal, and then home by Lake +Champlain and the Hudson river. My mother did not accompany us. We were +gone three months, and as the boat glided down the Hudson, the trees +were already touched by autumn. As the boat drew near Tapaan bay, I +concealed myself in my stateroom--I dared not look upon my cottage home. + +We arrived at home toward the close of a September day. My mother met +me at the door, calm and smiling. She gave me her hand--but I pushed +it gently away. Wareham led me up the steps. I stood once more in that +house, from which I had gone forth, like one walking in their sleep. +And that night, in our chamber, Wareham and myself held a conversation, +which had an important bearing on his life and mine. + +I was sitting alone in my chamber, dressed in a white wrapper, and +my hair flowing unconfined upon my shoulders; my hands were clasped +and my head bent upon my breast. I was thinking of the events of the +last three months, of all that I had endured from the man whose very +presence in the same room, filled me with loathing. My husband entered, +followed by Jenkins, who placed a lighted candle, a bottle of wine and +glasses on the table, and then retired. + +"What, is my pretty girl all alone, and in a thinking mood?" cried +Wareham, seating himself by the table and filling a glass with wine; +"and pray, my love, what is the subject of your thoughts?" + +And raising the glass to his lips, he surveyed me from head to foot +with that gloating gaze which always gave a singular light to his eyes. +His face was slightly flushed on the colorless cheeks. He had already +been drinking freely, and was now evidently under the influence of wine. + +"You have a fine bust, my girl," he continued, as though he was +repeating the "points" of a horse; "a magnificent arm, a foot that +beats the Medicean Venus all hollow, and limbs,--" he paused and sipped +his wine, protruding his nether lip which now was scarlet red,--"such +limbs! I like the expression of your eyes--there's fire in them, and +your clear brown complexion, and your moist red lips, and,--" he sipped +his wine again,--"altogether an elegantly built female." + +And he rose and approached me. I also rose, my eyes flashing and my +bosom swelling with suppressed rage. + +"Wareham, I warn you not to touch me," I said in a low voice. "For +three months I have been your prey. I will be so no longer. Before the +world you may call me wife, if you choose--you have bought the right +to do that--but I inform you, once for all, that henceforth we are +strangers. Do you understand me, Wareham? I had as lief be chained to a +corpse as to submit to be touched by you." + +He fell back startled, his face manifesting surprise and anger, but in +an instant his gaze was upon me again, and he indulged in a low burst +of laughter. + +"Come, I like this! It is a pleasant change from the demure, pious girl +of three months ago to the full-blown tragedy queen." He sank into a +chair and filled another glass of wine. "Be seated, Frank, I want to +have a little talk with my pet." + +I resumed my seat. + +"You give yourself airs under the impression that you are my +wife,--joint owner of my immense fortune,--my rich widow in +perspective. Erroneous impression, Frank. I have a wife living in +England." + +The entirely malignant look, which accompanied these words, convinced +me of their sincerity. For a moment I felt as though an awful weight +had crushed my brain, and by a glance at the mirror, I saw I was +frightfully pale; but recovering myself by a strong exertion of will, I +answered him in these words: + +"Gentlemen, who allow themselves more than one wife at a time, are +sometimes (owing to an unfortunate prejudice of society) invited to +occupy an apartment in the state prison." + +"And so you think you hold a rod over my head?"--he drank his +wine--"but I have only one wife, Frank. The gentleman, who married +you and me, was neither clergyman nor officer of the law, but simply +a convenient friend. Our mock marriage was not even published in the +papers." + +Every word went like an ice-bolt to my heart. I could not speak. Then, +as his eyes glared with a mingled look of hatred and of brutal passion, +he sipped his wine as he surveyed me, and continued: + +"You used the word 'bought' some time ago. You were right. 'Bought' is +the word. You are simply my _purchase_. In Constantinople these things +are easily managed; they keep an open market of fine girls there; but +here we must find an affable mother, and pay a huge price--sometimes +even marry the dear angels. I met your mother in Paris some years ago, +and have been intimately acquainted with her ever since. When she first +spoke of you, you were a child and I was weary of the world--jaded, +sick of its pleasures, by which I mean its women. An idea struck me! +What if this pretty little child, now being educated in innocence and +pious ways, and so forth, should, in the full blossom of her beauty +and piety--say at the ripe age of sixteen--become the consoler of +my declining years? And so I paid the expenses of your education +(your father consenting that I should _adopt_ you, but very possibly +understanding the whole matter as well as your mother), and you were +accordingly _educated_ for me. And when I first saw you, three months +ago, it was your very innocence and pious way of talking which gave an +irresistible effect to your beauty, and made me mad to possess you at +all hazards." + +It is impossible to depict the bitter mocking tone in which these words +were spoken. + +"I settled this mansion, the furniture, and so forth upon your mother, +with ten thousand dollars. That was the price. You see how much you +have cost me, my dear." + +"But I will leave your accursed mansion." I felt, as I spoke, as though +my heart was dead in my bosom. "I am not chained to you in marriage; I +am, at least, free." I started to my feet and moved a step toward the +door. + +"But where will you go? back to your elderly clerical friend, with +every finger leveled at you and every voice whispering 'There goes the +mistress of the rich Englishman!' Back to your village lover to palm +yourself upon him as a pure and spotless maiden?" + +I sank into a chair and covered my face with my hands. + +"Or will you begin the life of a poor seamstress, working sixteen hours +per day for as many pennies, and at last, take to the streets for +bread?" + +His words cut me to the quick. I saw that there was no redemption in +this world for a woman whose innocence has been sacrificed. + +"But think better of it, my dear. Your mother shall surround you with +the most select and fashionable company in New York,--she shall give +splendid parties,--you will be the presiding genius of every festival. +As for myself, dropping the name of husband, I will sink into an +unobtrusive visitor. When you see a little more of the world you will +not think your case such a hard one after all." + +My face buried in my hands, I had not one word of reply. +Lost,--lost,--utterly lost! + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +"LOST, LOST UTTERLY." + + +My mother soon afterward gave her first party. It was attended by many +of the rich and the fashionable of both sexes, and there were the +glare of lights, the presence of beautiful women, and the wine-cup +and the dance. The festival was prolonged till daybreak, and another +followed soon. The atmosphere was new to me. At first I was amazed, +then intoxicated, and then--corrupted. Anxious to bury the memory +of my shame, to forget how lost and abandoned I was, to drown every +thought of my childhood's home and of Ernest, who never could be +mine, soon from a silent spectator I became a participant in the +revels which, night after night, were held beneath my mother's roof. +The persons who mingled in these scenes, were rich husbands who came +accompanied by other men's wives; wives, who had sacrificed themselves +in marriage, for the sake of wealth, to husbands twice their age, and +these came with the husbands of other women,--in a word, all that came +to the mansion and shared in its orgies, were either the victims or +the criminals of society,--of a bad social world, which on every hand +contrasts immense wealth and voluptuous indulgence with fathomless +poverty and withering want, and which too often makes of a marriage but +the cloak for infamy and prostitution. I shared in every revel, and +lost myself in their maddening excitement. I was admired, flattered, +and elevated at last to the position of presiding genius of these +scenes. I became the "Midnight Queen." But let the curtain fall. + +One night I noticed a new visitor, a remarkably handsome gentleman who +sat near me at the supper-table, and whose hair and eyes and whiskers +were black as jet. He regarded me very earnestly and with a look which +I could not define. + +"Don't think me impertinent," he said, and then added in a lower voice, +"for I am your father, Frank. Don't call me Van Huyden--my name is +Tarleton now." + +Fearful that I might one day encounter Ernest, I wrote him a long +letter breathing something of the tone of my early days--for I forgot +for awhile my utterly hopeless condition--and informing him that mother +and myself were about to sail for Europe. I wished him to believe that +I was in a foreign land. + +And one night, while the revel was progressing in the rooms below, +Wareham entered my room and interested me in the description which he +gave of a young lord, who wished to be introduced to me. + +"Young, handsome, and pale as if from thought. The very style of man +you admire, my pet." + +"Let him come up," I answered, and Wareham retired. + +I stood before the mirror as the young lord entered, and as I turned, I +saw the face of my betrothed husband, Ernest Walworth. + +Upon the horror of that moment I need not dwell. + +He fell insensible to the floor, and was carried from the room and the +house to the carriage by Wareham, who had led him to the place. + +I have never seen the face of Ernest since that hour. + +I received one letter from him--one only--in which he set forth the +circumstances which induced him to visit my house, and in which he bade +me "farewell." + +He is now in a foreign land. The bones of his father rest in the +village church-yard. The cottage home is desolate. + +Wareham died suddenly about a year after our "marriage." The doctors +said that his death was caused by an overdose of Morphine _administered +by himself in mistake_. He died in our house, and as mother and myself +stood over his coffin in the darkened room, the day before the funeral, +I noticed that she regarded first myself and then the face of the dead +profligate with a look full of meaning. + +"Don't you think, dear mother," I whispered, "that the death of this +good man was very singular?" + +She made no reply, but still her face wore that meaning look. + +"Would it be strange, mother, if your daughter, improving on your +lessons, had added another feature to her accomplishments--had from the +Midnight Queen,"--I lowered my voice--"become the Midnight _Poisoner_?" + +I met her gaze boldly--and she turned her face away. + +He died without ever a dog to mourn for him, and his immense wealth was +inherited by a deserted and much abused wife, who lived in a foreign +land. + +Immense wealth in him bore its natural flower--a life of shameless +indulgence, ending in a miserable death. + +I did not shed very bitter tears at his funeral. Hatred is not the word +to express the feeling with which I regard his memory. + +Soon afterward my mother was taken ill, and wasted rapidly to death. +Hers was an awful death-bed. The candle was burning to its socket, +and mingled its rays with the pale moonlight which shone through the +window-curtains. Her brown hair, streaked with gray, falling to her +shoulders, her form terribly emaciated, and her eyes glaring in her +shrunken face, she started up in her bed, clutched my hands in hers, +and--begged me to forgive her. + +My heart was stone. I could not frame one forgiving word. + +As her chilled hands clutched mine, she rapidly went over the dark +story of her life,--how from an innocent girl, she had been hardened +into the thing she was,--and again, her eyes glaring on my face, +besought my forgiveness. + +"I forgive you, Mother," I said slowly, and she died. + +My father was not present at her death, nor did he attend her funeral. + +And for myself--what has the Future in store for me? + +O, for Rest! O, for Forgiveness! O, for a quiet Sleep beneath the +graveyard sod! + +And with that aspiration for Rest, Forgiveness, Peace, uttered with all +the yearning of a heart sick to the core, of life and all that life +can inflict or give, ended the manuscript of FRANCES VAN HUYDEN, the +MIDNIGHT QUEEN. + + * * * * * + +It is now our task to describe certain scenes which took place in New +York, between Nightfall and Midnight, on this 23d of December, 1844. +And at midnight we will enter THE TEMPLE where the death's head is +hidden among voluptuous flowers. + + + + +PART SECOND. + +"FROM NIGHTFALL UNTIL MIDNIGHT." + +DEC. 23, 1844. + + +CHAPTER I. + +BLOODHOUND AND THE UNKNOWN. + + +Two persons were sitting at a table, in the Refectory beneath Lovejoy's +Hotel. One of these drank brandy and the other drank water. The brandy +drinker was our friend Bloodhound, and the drinker of water was a +singular personage, whose forehead was shaded by a broad-brimmed hat, +while the lower part of his face was covered by a blue kerchief, which +was tied over his throat and mouth. + +Seated at a table in the center of the place, these two conversed in +low tones, while all around was uproar and confusion. + +"You found these persons?" said the gentleman with the broad-brimmed +hat and blue neckerchief. + +"I didn't do anything else," replied the Hound--"I met you here, at +Lovejoy's, about dusk. You were a tee-total stranger to me. You says, +says you, that you'd like to do a good turn to Harry Royalton, and at +the same time _fix_ this white nigger and his sister--you know who I +mean?" + +"Randolph and Esther--" + +"Well, we closed our bargain. You gave me a note to Randolph and one to +his sister. I hunted 'em out and delivered your notes, and here I am." + +Bloodhound smiled one of his most frightful smiles, and consoled +himself with a glass of brandy. + +"Where did you find these persons?" asked Blue Kerchief. + +"At a tip-top boardin' house up town, accordin' to your directions. I +fust saw the boy and delivered your note, and arter he was gone I saw +the gal and did the same. Now, old boss, do you think they'll come?" + +"You saw the contents of those notes?" + +"I did. I saw you write 'em and read 'em afore you sealed 'em up. The +one to Randolph requested him to be at a sartin place on the Five +Points about twelve o'clock. An' the one to Esther requested her to be +at the Temple about the same hour. Now do you think they'll come?" + +"You have seen Godlike and Royalton?" said the unknown, speaking +thickly through the neckerchief which enveloped his mouth. + +"Godlike will be at the Temple as the clock strikes twelve, and Harry +and me will be at Five Points, at the identical spot--you know--at the +very same identical hour." + +"That is sufficient. Here is the sum I promised you," and the stranger +laid two broad gold pieces on the table: "we must now part. Should I +ever need you, we will meet again. Good night." + +And the stranger rose, and left the refectory, Bloodhound turning his +head over his shoulder as he watched his retreating figure with dumb +amazement. + +"Cool! I call it cool!" he soliloquised; "Waiter, see here; another +glass of brandy. Yet this is good gold; has the right ring, hey? Judas +Iscariot! Somehow or 'nother, everything I touch turns to gold. Wonder +what the chap in the blue handkercher has agin the white nigger and his +sister? Who keers? At twelve to-night Godlike will have the gal, and +Harry and I will have the nigger. Ju-das Iscariot!" Here let us leave +the Bloodhound for awhile, to his solemn meditations and his glass of +brandy. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE CANAL STREET SHIRT STORE. + + +"Do you call them stitches? S-a-y? How d'ye expect a man to git a +livin' if he's robbed in that way? Do you call that a shirt--s-a-y?" + +"Indeed I did my best--" + +"Did your best? I should like to know what you take me for? D'ye think +I'm a fool? Did not I give you the stuff for five shirts, and fust of +all, I exacted a pledge of five dollars from you, to be forfeited if +you spoilt the stuff--" + +"And you know I was to receive two shillings for each shirt. I'll thank +you to pay me my money, and restore my five dollars and let me go--" + +"Not a copper. This shirt is spoilt. And if those you have in your arms +are no better, why they are spoilt too--" + +"They're made as well as the one you hold--no better." + +"Then I can't sell 'em for old rags. Just give 'em to me, and clear +out--" + +"At least give me back my five dollars--" + +"Not a copper. Had you finished these shirts in the right style, they'd +a-sold for fifteen dollars. As it is, the money is forfeited,--I mean +the five dollars which you left with me as a pledge. I can't employ you +any more. Just give me the other four shirts, and clear out." + +The storekeeper and the poor girl were separated by a counter, on +which was placed a showy case. She was dressed in a faded calico gown, +and a shawl as worn and faded, hung about her shoulders. She wore a +straw bonnet, although it was a night in mid-winter; and beneath her +poverty-stricken dress, her shoes were visible: old and worn into +shreds they scarcely clung to her feet. Her entire appearance indicated +extreme poverty. + +The storekeeper, who stood beneath the gas-light, was a well preserved +and portly man of forty years, or more, with a bald head, a wide +mouth and a snub nose. Rings glistered on his fat fingers. His black +velvet vest was crossed by a gold chain. His spotless shirt bosom was +decorated by a flashy breastpin. He spoke sharp and quick, and with a +proper sense of his dignity as the Proprietor of the "ONLY UNIVERSAL +SHIRT STORE, No. ----, Canal St., New York." + +Between him and the girl was a glass case, in which were displayed +shirts of the most elegant patterns and elaborate workmanship. Behind +him were shelves, lined with boxes, also filled with shirts, whose +prices were labeled on the outside of each box. At his right-hand, +was the shop-window,--a small room in itself--flaring with gas, and +crowded with shirts of all imaginable shapes--shirts with high collars, +Byron collars, and shirts without any collars at all;--shirts with +plaits large, small and infinitesimal--shirts with ruffles, shirts +with stripes and shirts with spots;--in fact, looking into the window, +you would have imagined that Mr. SCREW GRABB was a very Apostle of +clean linen, with a mission to clothe a benighted world, with shirts; +and that his Temple, "_the_ ONLY UNIVERSAL SHIRT STORE," was the +most important place on the face of the globe. There, too, appeared +eloquent appeals to passers-by. These were printed on cards, in immense +capitals,--"SHIRTS FOR THE MILLION! THE GREAT SHIRT EMPORIUM! WHO WOULD +BE _without a shirt, when Screw Grab sells them for only_ $1? THIS IS +_the_ ONLY SHIRT STORE,"--and so on to the end of the chapter. + +The conversation which we have recorded, took place in this store, soon +after 'gas-light' on the evening of Dec. 23d, 1844, between Mr. SCREW +GRABB and the POOR GIRL, who stood before him, holding a small bundle +in her arms. + +"You surely do not mean to retain my money?" said the girl--and she +laid one hand against the counter, and attentively surveyed the face of +Mr. Grabb--"You find fault with my work--" + +"Never saw _wuss_ stitchin' in my life," said Grabb. + +"But that is no reason why you should refuse to return the money which +I placed in your hands. Consider, Sir, you will distress me very much. +I really cannot afford to lose that five dollars,--indeed--" + +She turned toward him a face which, impressed as it was with a look of +extreme distress, was also invested with the light of a clear, calm, +almost holy beauty. It was the face of a girl of sixteen, whom thought +and anxiety had ripened into grave and serious womanhood. Her brown +hair was gathered neatly under her faded straw bonnet, displaying a +forehead which bore traces of a corroding care; there was light and +life in her large eyes, light and life without much of hope; there was +youth on her cheeks and lips; youth fresh and virgin, and unstained by +the touch of sin. + +"Will you give me them four shirts,--s-a-y?" was the answer of +Grabb,--"them as you has in your bundle there?" + +The girl for a moment seemed buried in reflection. May be the thought +of a dreary winter night and a desolate home was busy at her heart. +When she raised her head she fixed her eyes full upon the face of Mr. +Grabb, and said distinctly: + +"I will _not_ give you these shirts until you return my money." + +"What's that you say? You won't give 'em back--won't you?" and Mr. +Grabb darted around the counter, yardstick in hand. "We'll see,--we'll +see. Now just hand 'em over!" + +He placed himself between her and the door, and raised the yardstick +over her head. + +The girl retreated step by step, Mr. Grabb advancing as she retreated, +with the yardstick in his fat hand. + +"Give 'em up,--" he seized her arm, and attempted to tear the bundle +from her grasp. "Give 'em up you ----" he applied an epithet which he +had heard used by a manager of a theater to the unfortunate girls in +his employment. + +At the word, the young woman retreated into a corner behind the +counter, her face flushed and her eyes flashing with an almost savage +light-- + +"You cowardly villain!" she said, "to insult me because I will not +permit you to rob me. O, you despicable coward--for shame!" + +The look of her eye and curl of her lip by no means pleased the +corpulent Grabb. He grew red with rage. When he spoke again it was in a +loud voice and with an emphatic sweep of the yardstick. + +"If you don't give 'em up, I'll--I'll break every bone in your body. +You hussy! You ----! What do you think of yourself--to attempt to rob a +poor man of his property?" + +These words attracted the attention of the passers-by; and in a moment, +the doorway was occupied by a throng of curious spectators. The poor +girl, looking over Grabb's shoulders, saw that she was the object of +the gaze of some dozen pairs of eyes. + +"Gentlemen, this hussy has attempted to rob me of my property! I gave +her stuff sufficient to make five shirts, and she's spoilt 'em so I +can't sell 'em for old rags, and--and she won't give 'em up." + +"If they ain't good for nothing, what d'ye want with 'em?" remarked the +foremost of the spectators. + +But Grabb was determined to bring matters to a crisis. + +"Now, look here," he said, holding the yardstick in front of the girl, +and thus imprisoning her in the corner; "if you don't give 'em up, I'll +strip the clothes from your back." + +The girl turned scarlet in the face; her arms sank slowly to her side; +the bundle fell from her hands; she burst into tears. + +"Shame! shame!" cried one of the spectators. + +"It's the way he does business," added a voice in the background. "He +won't give out any work unless the girl, who applies for it, places +some money in his hands as a pledge. When the work is brought into the +store, he pretends that it's spoilt, and keeps the money. That's the +way he raises capital!" + +"What's that you say?" cried Grabb, turning fiercely on the crowd, who +had advanced some one or two paces into the store. "Who said that?" + +A man in a coarse, brown bang-up advanced from the crowd-- + +"I said it, and I'll stand to it! Ain't you a purty specimen of a +bald-headed Christian, to try and cheat the poor girl out of her +hard-airned money?" + +"I'll call the police," cried Grabb. + +"What a pattern! what a beauty!" continued the man in the brown +bang-up; "why rotten eggs 'ud be wasted on such a carcass as that!" + +"Police! Police!" screamed Grabb,--"Gentlemen, I'd like to know if +there is any law in this land?" + +While this altercation was in progress the poor girl--thoroughly +ashamed to find herself the center of a public broil--covered her face +with her hands and wept as if her heart would break. + +"Take my arm," said a voice at her side; "there will be a fight. Quick, +my dear Miss, you must get out of this as quick as possible." + +The speaker was a short and slender man, wrapped in a Spanish mantle, +and his hat was drawn low over his forehead. + +The girl seized his arm, and while the crowd formed a circle around +Grabb and the brown bang-up, they contrived to pass unobserved from the +store. Presently the poor girl was hurrying along Canal street, her +hand still clasping the arm of the stranger in the cloak. + +"Bad business! Bad business!" he said in a quick, abrupt tone. "That +Grabb's a scoundrel. Here's Broadway, my dear, and I must bid you +good-night. Good-night,--good-night." + +And he left the poor girl at the corner of Broadway and Canal street. +He was lost in the crowd ere she was aware of his departure. She was +left alone, on the street corner, in the midst of that torrent of life; +and it was not until some moments had elapsed that she could fully +comprehend her desolate condition. + +"It was the last five dollars I had in the world! What can I do! In the +name of God, what can I do!" + +She looked up Broadway--it extended there, one glittering track of +light. + +"Not a friend, and not a dollar in the world!" + +She looked down Broadway--far into the distance it extended, its +million lights over-arched by a dull December sky. + +"Not a friend and not a dollar!" + +She turned down Broadway with languid and leaden steps. A miserably +clad and heart-broken girl, she glided among the crowds, which lined +the street, like a specter through the mazes of a banquet. + +Poor girl! Down Broadway, until the Park is passed, and the huge Astor +House glares out upon the darkness from its hundred windows. Down +Broadway, until you reach the unfinished pile of Trinity Church, where +heaps of lumber and rubbish appear among white tombstones. Turn from +Broadway and stride this narrow street which leads to the dark river: +your home is there. + +Back of Trinity Church, in Greenwich street, we believe, there stands +on this December night a four storied edifice, tenanted, only a few +years ago, by a wealthy family. Then it was the palace of a man who +counted his wealth by hundreds of thousands. Now it is a palace of a +different sort; look at it, as from garret to cellar it flashes with +light in every window. + +The cellar is the home of ten families. + +The first floor is occupied as a beer "saloon;" you can hear men +getting drunk in three or four languages, if you will only stand by the +window for a moment. + +Twenty persons live on the second floor. + +Fifteen make their home on the third floor. + +The fourth floor is tenanted by nineteen human beings. + +The garret is divided into four apartments; one of these has a +garret-window to itself, and this is the home of the poor girl. + +She ascended the marble staircase which led from the first to the +fourth floor. At every step her ear was assailed with curses, drunken +shouts, the cries of children, and a thousand other sounds, which, +night and day resounded through that palace of rags and wretchedness. +Feeble and heart-sick she arrived at length in front of the garret +door, which opened into her home. + +She listened in the darkness; all was still within. + +"He sleeps," she murmured, "thank God!" and opened the door. All was +dark within, but presently, with the aid of a match, she lighted a +candle, and the details of the place were visible. It was a nook of the +original garret, fenced off by a partition of rough boards. The slope +of the roof formed its ceiling. The garret window occupied nearly an +entire side of the place. There was a mattress on the floor, in one +corner; a small pine table stood beside the partition; and the recess +of the garret-window was occupied by an old arm-chair. + +This chair was occupied by a man whose body, incased in a faded +wrapper, reminded you of a skeleton placed in a sitting posture. His +emaciated hands rested on the arms, and his head rested helplessly +against the back of the chair. His hair was white as snow; it was +scattered in flakes about his forehead. His face, furrowed in deep +wrinkles, was lividly pale; it resembled nothing save the face of a +corpse. His eyes, wide open and fixed as if the hand of death had +touched him, were centered upon the flame of the candle, while a +meaningless smile played about his colorless lips. + +The girl kissed him on the lips and forehead, but he gave no sign +of recognition save a faint laugh, which died on the air ere it was +uttered. + +For the poor man, prematurely old and reduced to a mere skeleton, was +an idiot. + +"Oh, my God, and I have not bread to feed him!" No words can describe +the tone and look with which the poor girl uttered these words. + +She flung aside her bonnet and shawl. + +Then it might be seen that, in spite of her faded dress, she was a very +beautiful young woman; not only beautiful in regularity of features, +but in the whiteness of her shoulders, the fullness of her bust, the +proportions of her tall and rounded form. Her hair, escaping from the +ribbon which bound it, streamed freely over her shoulders, and caught +the rays of the light on every glossy wave. + +She leaned her forehead upon her head, and--thought. + +Hard she had tried to keep a home for the poor IDIOT, who sat in the +chair--very hard. She had tried her pencil, and gained bread for +awhile, thus; but her drawings ceased to command a price at the picture +store, and this means of subsistence failed her. She had taught music, +and had been a miserable dependent upon the rich; been insulted by +their daughters, and been made the object of the insulting offers of +their sons. And forced at length by the condition of her IDIOT FATHER, +to remain with him, in their own home--to be constantly near him, day +and night--she had sought work at the shirt store on Canal street, +and been robbed of the treasure which she had accumulated through the +summer; an immense treasure--FIVE DOLLARS. + +She had not a penny; there was no bread in the closet; there was no +fire in the sheet iron stove which stood in one corner; her Idiot +Father, her iron fate were before her--harsh and bitter realities. + +She was thinking. + +Apply to those rich relations, who had known her father in days of +prosperity? No. Better death than that. + +She was thinking. Her forehead on her hand, her hair streaming over +her shoulders, her bosom which had never known even the thought of +pollution, heaving and swelling within her calico gown--she was +thinking. + +And as she thought, and _thought_ her hair began to burn, and her blood +to bound rapidly in her veins. + +Her face is shaded by her hand, and a portion of her hair falls over +that hand; therefore you cannot tell her thoughts by the changes of her +countenance. + +I would not like to know her thoughts. + +For there is a point of misery, at which but two doors of escape open +to the gaze of a beautiful woman, who struggles with the last extreme +of poverty: one door has the GRAVE behind it, and the other,---- + +Yes, there are some thoughts which it is not good to write on paper. It +was in the midst of this current of dark and bitter thoughts, that the +eye of the young woman wandered absently to the faded shawl which she +had thrown across the table. + +"What is this? A letter! Pinned to my shawl--by whom?" + +It was indeed a letter, addressed to her, and pinned to her shawl by an +unknown hand. + +She seized it eagerly, and opened it, and read. + +Her face, her neck, and the glimpse of her bosom, opening above her +dress, all became scarlet with the same blush. Still her eyes grew +brighter as she read the letter, and incoherent ejaculations passed +from her lips. + +The letter was written--so it said--by the man who had taken her from +the store on Canal street. Its contents we may not guess, save from the +broken words of the agitated girl. + +"'_At twelve o'clock, at_ "THE TEMPLE," _whose street and number you +will find on the inclosed card_.'" + +And a card dropped from the letter upon the table. She seized it +eagerly and clasped it as though it was so much gold. + +"'THE TEMPLE,'" she murmured again, and her eyes instinctively wandered +to the face of her father. + +Then she burst into a flood of tears. + +For three hours, while the candle burned toward its socket, she +meditated upon the contents of that letter. + +At last she rose, and took from a closet near the door, a mantilla of +black velvet, the only garment which the pawnbroker had spared. It +was old and faded; it was the only relic of better days. She resumed +her bonnet and wound the mantilla about her shoulders and kissed her +IDIOT FATHER on the lips and brow. He had fallen into a dull, dreamless +sleep, and looked like a dead man with his fallen lip and half-shut +eyes. + +"'THE TEMPLE!'" she exclaimed and attentively perused the card. + +Then extinguishing the candle, she wound a coverlet about her father's +form and left him there alone in the garret. She passed the threshold +and went down the marble stairs. God pity her. + +Yes, God pity her! + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +"DO THEY ROAR?" + + +At nine o'clock, on the night of December 23d, 1844,---- + +"Do they roar?" said Israel Yorke, passing his hand through his gray +whiskers, as he sat at the head of a large table covered with green +baize. + +It was in a large square room, on the second story of his Banking +House--if Israel's place of business can be designated by that name. +The gas-light disclosed the floor covered with matting, and the high +walls, overspread with lithographs of unknown cities and imaginary +copper-mines. There were also three lithographs of the towns in which +Israel's principal Banks were situated. There was Chow Bank and Muddy +Run, and there in all its glory was Terrapin Hollow. In each of these +distant towns, located somewhere in New Jersey or Pennsylvania--or +Heaven only knows where--Israel owned a Bank, a live Bank, chartered +by a State Legislature, and provided with a convenient President and +Cashier. Israel was a host of stockholders in himself. He had an office +in New York for the redemption of the notes of the three Banks; it is +in the room above this office that we now behold him. + +"Do they roar?" he asked, and arranged his spectacles on his turn up +nose, and grinned to himself until his little black eyes shone again. + +"Do they roar?" answered the voice of Israel's man of business, who sat +at the lower end of the green baize table--"Just go to the window and +hear 'em! Hark! There it goes again. It sounds like fourth of July." + +Truth to say, a strange ominous murmur came from the street--a murmur +composed of about an equal quantity of curses and groans. + +"There's six thousand of 'em," said the man of business; "The street +is black with 'em. And all sorts o' nasty little boys go about with +placards on which such words are inscribed: '_Here's an orphan--one +o' them that was cheated by Israel Yorke and his Three Banks._' Hark! +There it goes again!" + +The man of business was a phlegmatic individual of about forty years; +a dull heavy face adorned with green spectacles, and propped by a +huge black stock and a pair of immense shirt collars. Mr. FETCH was +indeed Israel's MAN; he in some measure supplied the place of the late +lamented Jedediah Buggles, Esq., 'whose dignity of character and strict +integrity,' etc., etc., (for the rest, see obituaries on Buggles in the +daily papers). + +"Fetch, they _do_ roar," responded Israel. "Was there notice of the +failure in the afternoon papers?" + +"Had it put in myself. Dilated upon the robbery which was committed on +you last night, in the cars; and spoke of your disposition to redeem +the notes of Chow Bank, Muddy Run and Terrapin Hollow, as soon as--_you +could make it convenient_." + +"Yes, Fetch, in about a week these notes can be bought for ten cents +on the dollar," calmly remarked Yorke, "they're mostly in the hands of +market people, mechanics, day-laborers, servant-maids, and those kind +of people, who _can't afford to wait_. Well, Fetch, what were they +sellin' at to-day?" + +"Three shillings on the dollar. You know we only failed this mornin'," +answered Fetch. + +"Yes, yes, about a week will do it"--Israel drew forth a gold pencil, +and made a calculation on a card,--"In about a week they'll be down +to ten cents on the dollar. We must buy 'em in quietly at that rate; +our friends on Wall street will help us, you know. Well, let's see how +the profit will stand--there are in circulation $300,000 of Chow Bank +notes--" + +"And $150,000 of Muddy Run," interrupted Fetch. + +"And $200,000 of Terrapin Hollow," continued Yorke,--"Now supposin' +that there are altogether $500,000--a half million of these notes now +in circulation--we can buy 'em in _quietly_ you know, at ten cents on +the dollar, for some--some--yes, $50,000 will do it. That will leave a +clear profit of $450,000. Not so bad,--eh, Fetch?" + +"But you forget how much it cost you to get the charters of these +banks--" interrupted Fetch. "The amount of champagne that I myself +forwarded to Trenton and to Harrisburg, would float a small brig. +Then there was some ready money that you loaned to Members of +Legislature--put that down Mr. Yorke." + +"We'll say $5000 for champagne, and $25,000 loaned to Members of +Legislature (though they don't bring anything near that now), why we +have a total of $25,000 for _expenses incurred in procuring charters_. +Deduct that from $450,000 and you still have $425,000. A neat sum, +Fetch." + +"Yes, but you must look to your character. You must come out of it +with flyin' colors. After nearly all the notes have been bought in, by +ourselves or our agents, we must announce that having recovered from +our late reverses, we are now prepared to redeem all our notes, dollar +for dollar." + +"And Fetch, if we manage it right, there'll be only $10,000 worth +left in circulation, at the time we make the announcement. That will +take $10,000 from our total of $425,000, leavin' us still the sum of +$415,000. A pretty sum, Fetch." + +"You may as well strike off that $15,000 for extra +expenses,--paragraphs in some of the newspapers,--grand juries, and +other little incidents of that kind. O, you'll come out of it with +_character_." + +"Ghoul of the Blerze will assail me, eh?" said Israel, fidgeting in +his chair: "He'll talk o' nothin' else than Chow Bank, Muddy Run and +Terrapin Hollow, for months to come,--eh, Fetch?" + +"For years, for years," responded Fetch, "It will be nuts for Ghoul." + +"And that cursed affair last night!" continued Yorke, as though +thinking aloud, "Seventy-one thousand gone at one slap." + +Fetch looked funnily at his principal from beneath his gold spectacles: +"No? It was real then? I thought--" + +Mr. Yorke abruptly consigned the thoughts of Mr. Fetch to a personage +who shall be nameless, and then continued: + +"It was _real_,--a _bona fide_ robbery. Seventy-one thousand at a slap! +By-the-bye, Fetch, has Blossom been here to-night--Blossom the police +officer?" + +"Couldn't get in; too much of a crowd in the street." + +"I did not intend him to come by the front door. He was to come up the +back way,--about this hour--he gave me some hope this afternoon. _That_ +was an unfortunate affair last night!" + +"How they roar! Listen!" said Fetch, bending himself into a listening +attitude. + +And again that ominous sound came from the street without,--the +combined groans and curses of six thousand human beings. + +"Like buffaloes!" quietly remarked Mr. Yorke. + +"Like demons!" added Mr. Fetch. "Hear 'em." + +"Was there much fuss to-day, when we suspended, Fetch?" + +"Quantities of market people, mechanics, widows and servant maids," +said the man of business. "I should think you'd stood a pretty good +chance of being torn to pieces, if you'd been visible. Had this +happened south, you'd have been tarred and feathered. Here you'd only +be tore to pieces." + +A step was heard in the back part of the room, and in a moment BLOSSOM, +in his pictorial face and bear-skin over-coat, appeared upon the scene. + +"What is the matter with your head?" asked Mr. Fetch,--"Is that a +handkerchief or a towel?" He pointed to something like a turban, which +Poke-Berry Blossom wore under his glossy hat. + +Blossom sunk sullenly into a chair, without a word. + +"What's the matter?" exclaimed Yorke, "Have you--" + +"Suppose you had sixteen inches taken out of yer skull," responded +Blossom in a sullen tone, "You'd know what was the matter. Thunder!" he +added, "this is a rum world!" + +"Did you--" again began Yorke, brushing his gray whiskers and fidgeting +in his chair. + +"Yes I did. I tracked 'em to a groggery up town airly this evenin'. +I had 'em all alone, to myself, up stairs. I caught the young 'un +examinin' the valise--I seed the _dimes_ with my own eyes. I--" + +"You arrested them?" gasped Yorke. + +"How could I, when I ain't a real police, and hadn't any warrant? I +did grapple with 'em; but the young 'un got out on the roof with the +valise, and I was left to manage the old 'un as best I could. I tried +to make him b'lieve that I had a detachment down stairs, but he gi'n me +a lick over the top-knot that made me see Fourth of July, I tell you. +There I laid, I don't know how long. When I got my senses, they was +gone." + +"But you pursued them?" asked Yorke, with a nervous start. + +"With a hole in my head big enough to put a market-basket in?" +responded Blossom, with a pitying smile, "what do you think I'm made +of? Do you think I'm a Japan mermaid or an Egyptian mummy?" + +It will be perceived that Mr. Blossom said nothing about the HOUSE +which stood next to the YELLOW MUG; he did not even mention the latter +place by name. Nor did he relate how he pursued Nameless into this +house, and how after an unsuccessful pursuit, he returned into the +garret of the Mug, where Ninety-One, (who for a moment or two had +been hiding upon the roof,) grappled with him, and laid him senseless +by a well planted blow. Upon these topics Mr. Blossom maintained a +mysterious silence. His reasons for this course may hereafter appear. + +"And so you've given up the affair?" said Yorke, sinking back into his +chair. + +Now the truth is, that Blossom, chafed by his inquiries and mortified +at his defeat, was cogitating an important matter to himself--"Can I +make anything by givin' Israel into the hands of the mob? I might lead +'em up the back stairs. Lord! how they'd make the fur fly! _But who'd +pay me?_" The italicized query troubled Blossom and made him thoughtful. + +"And so the seventy thousand's clean gone," exclaimed Fetch, in a +mournful tone: "It makes one melancholy to think of it." + +"Pardon me, Mr. Yorke, for this intrusion," said a bland voice, "but +I have followed Mr. Blossom to this room. I caught sight of him a +few moments ago as he left Broadway, and tried to speak to him as he +pushed through the crowd in front of your door, but in vain. So being +exceedingly anxious to see him, I was forced to follow him up stairs, +into your room." + +"Colonel Tarleton!" ejaculated Yorke. + +"The handsom' Curnel!" chorused Blossom. + +It was indeed the handsome Colonel, who with his white coat buttoned +tightly over his chest and around his waist, stood smiling and bowing +behind the chair of Berry Blossom. + +"You did not tell any one of the back door," cried Yorke,--"If you +did--" + +"Why then, (you were about to remark I believe,) we should have a great +many more persons in the room, than it would be pleasant for you to +see, _just now_." + +The Colonel made one of his most elegant bows as he made this remark. +Mr. Yorke bit his nails but made no reply. + +"Mr. Blossom, a word with you." The Colonel took the police officer by +the arm and led him far back into that part of the room most remote +from the table. + +"What's up, Mister?" asked Blossom, arranging his turban. + +As they stood there, in the gloom which pervaded that part of the room, +the Colonel answered him with a low and significant whisper: + +"Do you remember that old ruffian who was charged last night in the +cars with--" + +"You mean old Ninety-One, as he calls hisself," interrupted +Blossom--"Well, I guess I do." + +"Very good," continued the Colonel.--"Now suppose this ruffian had +concealed himself in the house of a wealthy man, with the purpose of +committing a robbery this very night!" + +Blossom was all ears. + +"Well, well,--drive ahead. Suppose,--suppose,"--he said impatiently. + +"Not so fast. Suppose, further, that a _gentleman_ who had overheard +this villain plotting this purposed crime, was to give you full +information in regard to the affair, could you,--could you,--when +called upon to give evidence before the court, forget the name of this +_gentleman_?" + +"I'd know no more of him than an unborn baby," eagerly whispered +Blossom. + +"Hold a moment. This gentleman overhears the plot, in the room of a +_certain house_, not used as a church, precisely. The gentleman does +not wish to be known as a visitor to _that house_,--you comprehend? +But in _that house_, he happens to hear the ruffian and his young +comrade planning this robbery. Himself unseen, he hears their whole +conversation. He finds out that they intend to enter the house where +the robbery is to take place, by a false key and a back stairway. Now--" + +"You want to know, in straight-for'ard talk," interrupted Blossom, +"whether, when the case comes to trial, I could remember having +overheard the convict and the young 'un mesself? There's my hand on +it, Curnel. Just set me on the track, and you'll find that I'll never +say one word about you. Beside, I was arter these two covies this very +night,--I seed 'em with my own eyes, in the garret of the Yellow Mug." + +"You did!" cried the Colonel, with an accent of undisguised +satisfaction. "Then possibly you may remember that you overheard them +planning this burglary, as you listened behind the garret door?" + +"Of course I can," replied Blossom, "I remember it _quite_ plain. Jist +tell me the number of the house that is to be robbed, and I'll show you +fireworks." + +The Colonel's face was agitated by a smile of infernal delight. Leaving +Blossom for a moment, he paced the floor, with his finger to his lip. + +"Pop and Pill will leave town to-morrow," he muttered to himself, "and +they'll keep out of the way until the storm blows over. This fellow +will go to the house of Sowers, inform him of the robbery, a search +will be made, and Ninety-One discovered in one room, and the corpse +of Evelyn in the other. Just at that hour I'll happen to be passing +by, and in the confusion I'll try to secure this youthful secretary of +Old Sowers. I shall want him for the twenty-fifth of December. As for +the OTHER, why, Frank must take care of him. Shall Ninety-One come to +a hint of the murder?"--the Colonel paused and struck his forehead. +"Head, you have never failed me, and will not fail me now!" + +He turned to Blossom, and in low whispers the twain arranged all the +details of the affair. They conversed together there in the gloom until +they perfectly understood each other, Blossom turning now and then to +indulge in a quiet laugh, and the Colonel's dark eyes flashing with +earnestness, and may be, with the hope of gratified revenge. At length +they shook hands, and the Colonel approached the table: + +"Mr. Yorke, I have the honor to wish you a very good evening," said the +Colonel, and after a polite bow, he departed. + +"I leave him with his serenaders," he muttered as he disappeared. "This +murder off my hands, and the private secretary in my power, I think I +will hold the trump card on the Twenty-fifth of December!" + +With this muttered exclamation he went down the back stairway. + +"Yorke, my genius!" cried Blossom, clapping the financier on the back, +"if I don't have them $71,000 dollars before twenty-four hours, you +may call me--you may call me,--most anything you please. By-the-bye, +did you hear that howl? Good-night, Yorke." And he went down the back +stairway. + +The financier, coughing for breath, (for the hand of Blossom had +been somewhat emphatic), fixed his gold specs, and brushed his gray +whiskers, and turning to Mr. Fetch, said gayly, + +"He looks as if he was on the right track; don't he, Fetch?" + +Fetch said he did; and presently he also retired down the back +stairway, promising to see his Principal at an early hour on the +morrow. "How they do roar!" he ejaculated, as he disappeared. + +Yorke was alone. He shifted and twisted uneasily in his chair. His +little black eyes shone with peculiar luster. He sat for a long time +buried in thought, and at last gave utterance to these words: + +"I think I'd better retire until the storm blows over, leaving Fetch to +bring in my notes, and manage affairs. To what part of the world shall +I go? Well,--w-e-ll!--Havana, yes, that's the word, Havana! But first I +must see the result of this Van Huyden matter on the Twenty-fifth, and +provide myself with a _companion_--a pleasant _companion_ to cheer me +in my loneliness at Havana. Ah!" the man of money actually breathed an +amorous sigh,--"_twelve to-night_,--THE TEMPLE!--that's the word." + +And in the street without, black with heads, there were at least three +thousand people who would have cut the throat of Israel, had they once +laid hands upon him. + +"THE TEMPLE!" he again ejaculated, and sinking back in his chair, he +inserted his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, and resigned himself +to a pleasant dream. + + * * * * * + +Leaving Israel Yorke for a little while, we will trace the movements, +and listen to the words of a personage of far different character. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE SEVEN VAULTS. + + +About the hour of nine o'clock, on the 23d of December, a gentleman, +wrapped in the folds of a Spanish mantle, passed along Broadway, on +his way to the Astor House. Through the glare and glitter, the uproar +and the motion of that thronged pathway, he passed rapidly along, +his entire appearance and manner distinguishing him from the crowd. +As he came into the glare of the brilliantly-lighted windows, his +face and features, disclosed but for an instant, beneath his broad +sombrero, made an impression upon those who beheld them, which they +did not soon forget. That face, unnaturally pale, was lighted by eyes +that shone with incessant luster; and its almost death-like pallor was +in strong contrast with his moustache, his beard and hair, all of +intense blackness. His dark hair, tossed by the winter winds, fell in +wavy tresses to the collar of his cloak. His movements were quick and +impetuous, and his stealthy gait, in some respects, reminded you of the +Indian. Altogether, in a crowd of a thousand you would have singled +him out as a remarkable man,--one of those whose faces confront you +at rare intervals, in the church, the street, in the railroad-car, on +ship-board, and who at first sight elicit the involuntary ejaculation, +"That man's history I would like to know!" + +Arrived at the Astor House he registered his name, GASPAR MANUEL, +_Havana_. + +He had just landed from the Havana steamer. + +As he wrote his name on the Hotel book, he uncovered his head, and--by +the gas light which shone fully on him,--it might be seen that his +dark hair, which fell to his shoulders, was streaked with threads of +silver. The vivid brightness of his eyes, the death-like pallor of his +face, became more perceptible in the strong light; and when he threw +his cloak aside, you beheld a slender frame, slightly bent in the +shoulders, clad in a dark frock coat, which, single breasted, and with +a strait collar, reached to the knees. + +His face seemed to indicate the traveler who has journeyed in many +lands, seen all phases of life, thought much, suffered deeply, and at +times grown sick of all that life can inflict or bestow; his attire +indicated a member of some religious organization, perchance a member +of that society founded by Loyola, which has sometimes honored, but +oftener blasphemed, the name of JESUS. Directing his trunks,--there +were some three or four, huge in size, and strangely strapped and +banded--to be sent to his room, Gaspar Manuel resumed his cloak and +sombrero, and left the hall of the hotel. + +It was an hour before he appeared again. As he emerged from one of +the corridors into the light of the hall, you would have scarcely +recognized the man. In place of his Jesuit-like attire, he wore a +fashionably made black dress coat, a snow-white vest, black pants and +neatly-fitting boots. There was a diamond in the center of his black +scarf, and a massy gold chain across his vest. And a diamond even more +dazzling than that which shone upon his scarf, sparkled from the little +finger of his left-hand. + +But the change in his attire only made that face, framed in hair and +beard, black as jet, seem more lividly pale. It was a strange faded +face,--you would have given the world to have known the meaning of that +thought which imparted its incessant fire to his eyes. + +Winding his cloak about his slender frame, and placing his sombrero +upon his dark hair, he left the hotel. Passing with his quick active +step along Broadway, he turned to the East river, and soon entered a +silent and deserted neighboring house. Silent and deserted, because it +stands in the center of a haunt of trade, which in the day-time, mad +with the fever of traffic, was at night as silent and deserted as a +desert or a tomb. + +He paused before an ancient dwelling-house, which, wedged in between +huge warehouses, looked strangely out of place, in that domain of +mammon. Twenty-one years before, that dwelling-house had stood in +the very center of the fashionable quarter of the city. Now the +aristocratic mansions which once lined the street had disappeared; +and it was left alone, amid the lofty walls and closed windows of the +warehouses which bounded it on either hand, and gloomily confronted it +from the opposite side of the narrow street. + +It was a double mansion--the hall door in the center--ranges of +apartments on either side. Its brick front, varied by marble over the +windows, bore the marks of time. And the wide marble steps, which +led from the pavement to the hall door--marble steps once white as +snow--could scarcely be distinguished from the brown sandstone of the +pavement. In place of a bell, there was an unsightly-looking knocker, +in the center of the massive door; and its roof, crowned with old +fashioned dormer-windows, and heavy along the edges with cumbrous +woodwork, presented a strange contrast to the monotonous flat roofs of +the warehouses on either side. + +Altogether, that old-fashioned dwelling looked as much out of place in +that silent street of trade, as a person attired in the costume of the +Revolution,--powdered wig, ruffled shirt, wide skirted coat, breeches +and knee-buckles,--would look, surrounded by gentlemen attired in the +business-like and practical costume of the present day. And while the +monotonous edifices on either side, only spoke of Trade--the Rate of +Exchange--the price of Dry Goods,--the old dwelling-house had something +about it which breathed of the associations of Home. There had been +marriages in that house, and deaths: children had first seen the light +within its walls, and coffins, containing the remains of the fondly +loved, had emerged from its wide hall door: dramas of every-day life +had been enacted there: and there, perchance, had also been enacted one +of those tragedies of every-day life which differ so widely from the +tragedies of fiction, in their horrible truth. + +There was a story about the old dwelling which, as you passed it in +the day-time, when it stood silent and deserted, while all around was +deafening uproar, made your heart dilate with involuntary curiosity to +know the history of the ancient fabric, and the history of those who +had lived and died within its walls. + +Gaspar Manuel ascended the marble steps, and with the knocker sounded +an alarm, which echoing sullenly through the lofty hall, was shortly +answered by the opening of the door. + +In the light which flashed upon the pallid visage of Gaspar Manuel, +appeared an aged servant, clad in gray livery faced with black velvet. + +"Take these letters to your master, and tell him that I am come," said +Gaspar in a prompt and decided tone, marked, although but slightly, +with a foreign accent. He handed a package to the servant as he spoke. + +"But how do you know that my master is at home?"--The servant shaded +his eyes with his withered hand, and gazed hesitatingly into that +strange countenance, so lividly pale, with eyes unnaturally bright and +masses of waving hair, black as jet. + +"Ezekiel Bogart lives here, does he not?" + +"That is my master's name." + +"Take these letters to him then at once, and tell him I am waiting." + +Perchance the soft and musical intonations of the stranger's voice had +its effect upon the servant, for he replied, "Come in, sir," and led +the way into the spacious hall, which was dimly lighted by a hanging +lamp of an antique pattern. + +"Step in there, sir, and presently I will bring you an answer." + +The aged servant opened a door on the left side of the hall and Gaspar +Manuel entered a square apartment, which had evidently formed a part of +a larger room. The walls were panneled with oak; a cheerful wood fire +burned in the old-fashioned arch; an oaken table, without covering of +any sort, stood in the center; and oaken benches were placed along the +walls. Taking the old chair,--it stood by the table,--Gaspar Manuel, +by the light of the wax candle on the table, discovered that the room +was already occupied by some twenty or thirty persons, who sat upon the +oak benches, as silent as though they had been carved there. Persons of +all classes, ages, and with every variety of visage and almost every +contrast of apparel. There was the sleek dandy of Broadway; there the +narrow-faced vulture of Wall street; there some whose decayed attire +reminded you either of poets out of favor with the Magazines, or of +police officers out of office: one whose half Jesuit attire brought +to mind a Puseyite clergyman; and one or two whose self-complacent +visages reminded one of a third-rate lawyer, who had just received his +first fee; in a word, types of the varied and contrasted life which +creeps or throbs within the confines of the large city. Among the +crowd, were several whose rotund corporations and evident disposition +to shake hands with themselves, indicated the staid man of business, +whose capital is firm in its foundation, and duly recognized in the +solemn archives of the Bank. A man of gray hairs, clad in rags, sat in +a corner by himself; there was a woman with a vail over her face; a boy +with half developed form, and lip innocent of hair: it was, altogether, +a singular gathering. + +The dead silence which prevailed was most remarkable. Not a word was +said. Not one of those persons seemed to be aware of the existence of +the others. As motionless as the oak benches on which they sat, they +were waiting to see Ezekiel Bogart, and this at the unusual hour of ten +at night. + +Who was Ezekiel Bogart? This was a question often asked, but which the +denizens of Wall street found hard to answer. He was not a merchant, +nor a banker, nor a lawyer, nor a gentleman of leisure, although in +some respects he seemed a combination of all. + +He occupied the old-fashioned dwelling; was seen at all sorts of places +at all hours; and was visited by all sorts of people at seasons most +unusual. Thus much at least was certain. But what he was precisely, +what he exactly followed, what the sum of his wealth, and who were +his relations,--these were questions shadowed in a great deal more +mystery than the reasons which induce a Washington Minister of State to +sanction a worn-out claim, of which he is at once the judge, lawyer and +(under the rose) sole proprietor. + +The transactions of Ezekiel Bogart were quite extensive: they involved +much money and ramified through all the arteries of the great social +world of New York. But the exact nature of these transactions? All was +doubt,--no one could tell. + +So much did the mystery of Mr. Bogart's career puzzle the knowing ones +of Wall street, that one gentleman of the Green Board went quite crazy +on the subject,--after the fourth bottle of champagne--and offered to +bet Erie Rail-road stock against New Jersey copper stock, that no one +could prove that Bogart had ever been born. + +"_Who_ IS _Ezekiel Bogart_?" + +No doubt every one of the persons here assembled, in the oak panneled +room, can return some sort of answer to this question; but will not +their answers contradict each other, and render Ezekiel more mythical +than ever? + +"Sir, this way," said the aged servant, opening the door and beckoning +to Gaspar Manuel. + +Gaspar followed the old man, and leaving the room, ascended the oaken +staircase, whose banisters were fashioned of solid mahogany. + +On the second floor he opened a door,--"In there, sir," and crossing +the threshold, Gaspar Manuel found himself in the presence of Ezekiel +Bogart. + +It was a square apartment, lined with shelves from the ceiling to the +floor, and illumined by a lamp, which hanging from the ceiling, shed +but a faint and mysterious light through the place. In the center was +a large square table, whose green baize surface was half concealed by +folded packages, opened letters, and huge volumes, bound in dingy buff. +Without windows, and warmed by heated air, this room was completely +fire-proof--for the contents of those shelves were too precious to be +exposed to the slightest chance of destruction. + +In an arm-chair, covered with red morocco, and placed directly beneath +the light, sat Ezekiel Bogart; a man whom we may as well examine +attentively, for we shall not soon see his like again. His form bent +in the shoulders, yet displaying marks of muscular power, was clad +in a loose wrapper of dark cloth, with wide sleeves, lined with red. +A dark skull-cap covered the crown of his head; and a huge green +shade, evidently worn to protect his eyes from the light, completely +concealed his eyes and nose, and threw its shadow over his mouth and +chin. A white cravat, wound about his throat in voluminous folds, half +concealed his chin; and his right hand--sinewy, yet colorless as the +hand of a corpse--which was relieved by the crimson lining of the large +sleeve--was laid upon an open letter. + +Gaspar Manuel seated himself in a chair opposite this singular figure, +and observed him attentively without uttering a word. And Ezekiel +Bogart, whose eyes were protected by the huge green shade, seemed for a +moment to study with some earnestness, the pallid face of Gaspar Manuel. + +"My name is Ezekiel Bogart," he spoke in a voice so low as to be +scarcely audible,--"and I am the General Agent of Martin Fulmer." + +He paused as if awaiting a reply from Gaspar Manuel, but Gaspar Manuel +did not utter a word. + +"You come highly recommended by Mr. John Grubb, who is Mr. Fulmer's +agent on the Pacific coast," continued Ezekiel. "He especially +commends you to my kindness and attention, in the letter which I +hold in my hand. He desires me to procure you an early interview +with my principal, Dr. Martin Fulmer. He also states that you have +important information in your possession, in regard to certain lands +in the vicinity of the Jesuit Mission of San Luis, near the Pacific +coast,--lands purchased some years ago, from the Mexican government, by +Dr. Martin Fulmer. Now, in the absence of the Doctor, I will be most +happy to converse with you on the subject"-- + +"And I will be happy to converse on the subject," exclaimed Gaspar, in +his low voice and with a slight but significant smile, "but first I +must see Dr. Martin Fulmer." + +Ezekiel gave a slight start-- + +"But you may not be able to see Dr. Martin Fulmer for some days," he +said. "His movements are uncertain; it is at times very difficult to +procure an interview with him." + +"I must see him," replied Gaspar Manuel in a decided voice, "and before +the Twenty-Fifth of December." + +Again Ezekiel started: + +"Soh! He knows of the Twenty-Fifth!" he muttered. After a moment's +hesitation he said aloud: "This land which the Doctor bought from +the Mexican government, and which he sent John Grubb to overlook, is +fertile, is it not?" + +Gaspar Manuel answered in a low voice, whose faintest tones were marked +with a clear and impressive emphasis: + +"The deserted mission house of San Luis stands in the center of a +pleasant valley, encircled by fertile hills. Its walls of intermingled +wood and stone are almost buried from view by the ever-green foliage +of the massive trees which surround it. Once merry with the hum of +busy labor, and echoing with the voice of prayer and praise, it is +now silent as a tomb. Its vineyards and its orchards are gone to +decay,--orchards rich with the olive and the apple, the pomegranate +and the orange, stand neglected and forsaken, under an atmosphere as +calm, a climate as delicious as southern Italy. And the hills and +fields, which once produced the plantain and banana, cocoanut, indigo +and sugar-cane--which once resounded with the voices of hundreds of +Indian laborers, who yielded to the rule of the Jesuit Fathers--are +now as sad and silent as a desert. And yet a happier sight you cannot +conceive than the valley of the San Luis, in the lap of which stands +the deserted mission-house. It is watered by two rivulets, which, +flowing from the gorges of distant hills, join near the mission-house, +into a broad and tranquil river, whose shores are always bright with +the verdure of spring. The valley is surrounded, as I have said, by a +range of rolling hills, which formerly yielded, by their inexhaustible +fertility, abundant wealth to the Fathers. Behind these, higher and +abrupt hills arise, clad with ever-green forests. In the far distance, +rise the white summits of the Sierra Nevada." + +"This mission was one of the many established between the Sierra Nevada +and the Pacific coast," interrupted Ezekiel, "by zealous missionaries +of the Papal Church. If I mistake not, having obtained large grants +of land from the Mexican government, they gathered the Indians into +missions, reared huge mission-houses, and employed the Indians in the +cultivation of the soil." + +"Not only in California, on the west side of Sierra Nevada, but also +far to the east of that range of 'Snow Mountains' abounded these +missions, ruled by the Fathers and supported by the labor of the +submissive Indians. But now, for hundreds and hundreds of miles, you +will find the mission-houses silent and deserted. The rule of the +Fathers passed away in 1836--in one of the thousand revolutions of +Mexico--the missions passed into the hands of private individuals, and +in some cases the Indians were transferred with the land." + +"But the mission-house of San Luis?" + +"Is claimed by powerful members of the Society of Jesus, who residing +in the city of Mexico, have managed to keep a quiet hold upon the +various governments, which have of late years abounded in that unhappy +republic. They claim the mission-house and the lands, originally +granted sixty years ago, to Brothers of their order by the Government, +and they claim certain lands, not named in the original grant." + +He paused, but Ezekiel Bogart completed the sentence: + +"Lands purchased some years since, from the Government by Dr. Martin +Fulmer? Is their claim likely to be granted?" + +"That is a question upon which I will be most happy to converse with +Dr. Martin Fulmer," was the bland reply of Gaspar Manuel. + +"These lands are fertile--that is, as fertile as the lands immediately +attached to the mission?" + +"Barren, barren as Zahara," replied Gaspar. "A thousand acres in all, +they are bounded by desolate hills, desolate of foliage, and broken +into ravines and gorges, by mountain streams. You stand upon one of the +hills, and survey the waste which constitutes Martin Fulmer's lands, +and you contrast them with the mission lands, and feel as though Zahara +and Eden stood side by side before you. A gloomier sight cannot be +imagined." + +"And yet," said Ezekiel, "these lands are situated but a few leagues +from the mission-house. It is strange that the Jesuit Brothers should +desire to possess such a miserable desert. Do you imagine their +motives?" + +"It is about _their motives_ that I desire to speak with Dr. Martin +Fulmer," and Gaspar shaded his eyes with the white hand which blazed +with the diamond ring. + +There was a pause, and beneath his uplifted hand, Gaspar Manuel +attentively surveyed Ezekiel Bogart, while Ezekiel Bogart, as earnestly +surveyed Gaspar Manuel, under the protection of the green shade which +concealed his eyes. + +"You seem to have a great many visitors to-night," said Gaspar, resting +his arm on the table and his forehead on his hand; "allow me to ask, is +it usual to transact business, at such a late hour, in this country?" + +"The business transacted by Dr. Martin Fulmer, differs widely from the +business of Wall street," replied Ezekiel, dryly. + +"The property of Gulian Van Huyden, has by this time doubled itself?" +asked Gaspar, still keeping his eyes on the table. Ezekiel started, +but Gaspar continued, as though thinking aloud--"Let me see: at the +time of his death, the estate was estimated at two millions of dollars. +Of this $1,251,000 was invested in real estate in the city of New +York; $100,000 in bank and other kinds of stock; $50,000 in lands +in the Western country; $1,000 in a tract of one thousand acres in +Pennsylvania; and $458,000 in bank notes and gold. Then the Van Huyden +mansion and grounds were valued at $150,000. Are my figures correct, +sir?" + +As though altogether amazed by the minute knowledge which Gaspar +Manuel, seemed to possess, in regard to the Van Huyden estate, Ezekiel +did not reply. + +"By this time this great estate has no doubt doubled, perhaps trebled +itself." + +Ezekiel raised his hand to his mouth, and preserved a statue-like +silence. + +"This room, which is no doubt vaulted and fire-proof, contains I +presume, all the important records, title-deeds and other papers +relating to the estate." + +Ezekiel rose from his chair, and slowly lighted a wax candle which +stood upon the table. Gathering the dark wrapper, lined with scarlet, +about his tall form which seemed bent with age, he took the silver +candlestick in his right hand, and swept aside a curtain which +concealed the shelves behind his chair. A narrow doorway was disclosed. + +"Will you step this way, for a few moments, sir?" he said, pointing to +the doorway, as he held the light above his head, thus throwing the +shadow of the green shade completely over his face. + +Gaspar Manuel without a word, rose and followed him. They entered a +room or rather vault, resembling in the general features the one which +they had left. It was racked and shelved; the floor was brick and the +shelves groaned under the weight of carefully arranged papers. + +"This room or vault, without windows as you see, and rendered secure, +beyond a doubt, from all danger of robbery or of fire, is one of +seven," said Ezekiel. "In this room are kept all title deeds and +papers, which relate to the THOUSAND ACRES in Pennsylvania." + +"The Thousand acres in Pennsylvania!" echoed Gaspar, "surely all these +documents and papers, do not relate to that tract, which Van Huyden +originally purchased for one thousand dollars?" + +"Twenty-one years ago, they could have been purchased for a thousand +dollars," answered Ezekiel: "twenty-one years, to a country like this, +is the same as five hundred to Europe. Those lands could not now be +purchased for twenty millions." + +"Twenty millions!" + +"They comprise inexhaustible mines of coal and iron--the richest in the +state," answered Ezekiel, quietly, and drawing a curtain, he led the +way into a second vault. + +"Here," he said, holding the light above his head, so that its rays +fell full upon the pallid face of Gaspar, while his own was buried in +shadow; "here are kept all papers and title-deeds, which relate to +the lands in the western country--lands purchased for fifty thousand +dollars, at a time when Ohio was a thinly settled colony and all the +region further west a wilderness--but lands which now are distributed +through five states, and which, dotted with villages, rich in mines and +tenanted by thousands, return an annual rent of,----" + +He paused. + +"Of I do not care to say how many dollars. Enough, perhaps, to buy a +German prince or two. This way, sir." + +Passing through a narrow doorway, they entered a third vault, arched +and shelved like the other. + +"This place is devoted to the Van Huyden mansion," said Ezekiel, +pointing to the well-filled shelves. "It was worth $150,000 twenty-one +years ago, but now a flourishing town has sprung up in the center of +its lands; mills and manufactories arise in its valleys; a population +of five thousand souls exists, where twenty-one years ago there were +not two hundred souls, all told. And these five thousand are laboring +night and day, not so much for themselves as to increase the wealth of +the Van Huyden estate." + +"And all this is estimated at,----," began Gaspar. + +"We will not say," quietly responded Ezekiel. "Here are the title-deeds +of the town, of the mansion, of manufactory and mill, all belong to the +estate; not one of the five thousand souls owns one inch of the ground +on which they toil, or one shingle of the roof beneath which they +sleep." + +They entered the fourth vault. + +"This is dedicated to the 'Real Estate in the city of New York,'" +said Ezekiel--"worth $1,521,000, twenty-one years ago, and now--well, +well--New York twenty-one years ago was the presumptuous rival of +Philadelphia. She is now the city of the Continent. And this real +estate is located in the most thriving portions of the city--among +the haunts of trade near the Battery, and in the region of splendid +mansions up town." + +"And you would not like to name the usual revenue?"--a smile crossed +the pale visage of Gaspar Manuel. + +Ezekiel led the way into the fifth vault. + +"Matters in regard to Banks and bank stock are kept here," he said, +showing the light of the candle upon the well laden shelves--"Rather +an uncertain kind of property. The United States' Bank made a sad +onslaught upon these shelves. But let us go into the next room." + +And they went into the sixth room. + +"This is our bank," said Ezekiel; "that is to say, the Treasury of the +Van Huyden estate, in which we keep our _specie basis_. You perceive +the huge iron safe which occupies nearly one-half of the apartment? +Dr. Martin Fulmer carries the Key of course, and with that Key he can +perchance, at any moment, command the destinies of the commercial +world. A golden foundation is a solid foundation, as the world goes." + +As though for the moment paralyzed, by the revelation of the immense +wealth of the Van Huyden estate, Gaspar Manuel stood motionless as a +statue, resting one arm upon the huge safe and at the same time resting +his forehead in his hand. + +"We will now pass into the seventh apartment," said Ezekiel, and in a +moment they stood in the last vault of the seven. "It is arched and +shelved, you perceive, like the others; and the shelves are burdened +with carefully-arranged papers----" + +"Title-deeds, I presume, title-deeds and mortgages?" interrupted Gaspar +Manuel. + +"No," answered Ezekiel, suffering the rays of the candle to fall upon +the crowded shelves. "Those shelves contain _briefs_ of the personal +history of permanent persons of this city, of many parts of the Union, +I may say, of many parts of the globe. Sketches of the personal +history of prominent persons, and of persons utterly obscure: records +of remarkable facts, in the history of particular families: brief but +interesting portraitures of incidents, societies, governments and men; +the contents of those shelves, sir, is knowledge, and knowledge that, +in the grasp of a determined man, would be a fearful Power. For," he +turned and fixed his gaze on Gaspar Manuel; "for you stand in the +Secret Police Department of the Van Huyden estate." + +These last words, pronounced with an emphasis of deep significance, +evidently aroused an intense curiosity in the breast of Gaspar Manuel. + +"Secret Police Department!" he echoed, his dark eyes flashing with +renewed luster. + +"Even so," dryly responded Ezekiel, "for the Van Huyden estate is not +a secret society like the Jesuits, nor a corporation like Trinity +Church, nor a government like the United States or Great Britain, but +it is a _Government based upon Money and controlled by the Iron Will +of One Man_. A Government based, I repeat it, upon incredible wealth, +and absolutely in the control of one man, who for twenty-one years, +has devoted his whole soul to the administration of the singular and +awful Power intrusted to him. Such a Government needs a Secret Police, +ramifying through all the arteries of the social world--and you now +stand in the office of that wide-spread and almost ubiquitous Police." + +"A secret society may be disturbed by internal dissensions," said +Gaspar Manuel, as though thinking aloud; "a government may be crippled +by party jealousies, but this Government of the Van Huyden Estate, +based upon money, is simply controlled by one man, who knows his mind, +who sees his way clear, whose will is deepened by a conviction--perhaps +a fanaticism--as unrelenting as death itself. Ah! the influence of such +a Government is fearful, nay horrible, to contemplate!" + +"It is, it is indeed," said Ezekiel, in a low and mournful voice; "and +the responsibility of Dr. Martin Fulmer, most solemn and terrible." + +"But what would become of this Government, were Dr. Martin Fulmer to +die before the 25th of December?" asked Gaspar Manuel. + +"But Dr. Martin Fulmer will not die before the 25th of December," +responded Ezekiel, in a tone of singular emphasis. + +"And this immense power will drop from his grasp on the 10th of +December," continued Gaspar Manuel. "Who will succeed him? Into whose +hands will it fall--this incredible power?" + +"Your question will be answered on the 25th of December," slowly +responded Ezekiel, and motioning to Gaspar, he retraced his steps +through the six vaults or apartments, and presently stood in the first +of the seven vaults, where we first beheld him. + +He seated himself in the huge arm-chair, while Gaspar Manuel, resuming +his cloak and sombrero, stood ready to depart. + +"Now that I have given you some revelation of the immense resources of +the Van Huyden Estate," said Ezekiel, as he attentively surveyed that +cloaked and motionless figure; "you will, I presume, have no objection +to converse with me in regard to the lands on the Pacific, as freely +and as fully, as though you stood face to face with Dr. Martin Fulmer?" + +"Pardon," said Gaspar Manuel with a low brow, "the facts in my +possession are for the ear of Dr. Martin Fulmer, and for his ear alone." + +"Very well, sir," replied Ezekiel, in a tone of impatience, "as you +please. Call here to-morrow at--" he named the hour--"and you shall see +Dr. Martin Fulmer." + +"I will be here at the hour," and bidding good-night! to Ezekiel, +Gaspar bowed and moved to the door. He paused for a moment on the +threshold---- + +"Pardon me, sir, but I would like to ask you a single question." + +"Well, sir." + +"I am curious to know what has induced you, to disclose to me--almost +an entire stranger--the secrets and resources of the Van Huyden Estate?" + +"Sir," responded Ezekiel Bogart, in a voice which deep and stern, was +imbued with the consciousness of Power; "you will excuse me from giving +you a direct reply. But you would not have crossed the threshold of +any one of the seven apartments, had I not been conscious, that it is +utterly out of your power, to _abuse_ the knowledge which you have +obtained." + +Again Gaspar Manuel bowed, and without a word, left the room. + +Ezekiel Bogart was alone. + +He folded his arms and bowed his head upon his breast. Strange and +tumultuous thoughts, stamped their deep lines upon his massive brow. +The dimly-lighted room was silent as the grave, and the light fell +faintly upon that singular figure, buried in the folds of the dark +robe lined with scarlet, the head covered with an unsightly skullcap, +the eyes vailed by a green shade, the chin and mouth concealed by the +cumbrous cravat. Lower drooped the head of Ezekiel, but still the light +fell upon his bared forehead, and showed the tumultuous thoughts that +were working there. The very soul of Ezekiel, retired within itself and +absent from all external things, was buried in a maze of profound, of +overwhelming thought. + +The aged servant entered with a noiseless step, "Here is a letter, +sir," he said. But Ezekiel did not hear. "Sir, a letter from +Philadelphia, by a messenger who has just arrived." But Ezekiel, +profoundly absorbed, was unconscious of his presence. + +The aged servant advanced, and placed the letter on the table, directly +before his absent-minded master. He touched Ezekiel respectfully on the +shoulder and repeated in a louder voice--"A letter, sir, an important +letter from Philadelphia, by a messenger who has just arrived." + +Ezekiel started in his chair, like one suddenly awakened from a sound +slumber. At a glance he read the superscription of the letter: "_To +Ezekiel Bogart, Esq.--Important_." + +"The handwriting of the Agent whom I yesterday sent to Philadelphia!" +he ejaculated, and opened the letter. These were its contents: + + _Philadelphia, Dec._ 23, 1844. + + SIR:--I have just returned to the city, from the Asylum--returned + in time to dispatch this letter by an especial messenger, who will + go to New York, in the five o'clock train. At your request, and in + accordance with your instructions, I visited the Asylum for the + Insane, this morning, expecting to bring away with me the Patient whom + you named. _He escaped some days ago_--so the manager informed me. + And since his escape no intelligence has been had of his movements. + I have not time to add more, but desire your instructions in the + premises. + + Yours truly, H. H. + + To EZEKIEL BOGART, ESQ. + +No sooner had Ezekiel scanned the contents of this epistle, than he was +seized with powerful agitation. + +"Escaped! The child of Gulian escaped!" he cried, and started from the +chair--"to-morrow he was to be here, in this house, in readiness for +the Day. Escaped! Why did not the manager at once send me word? Ah, +woe, woe!" He turned to the aged servant, and continued, "Bring the +person who brought this letter, to me, at once, quick! Not an instant +is to be lost." + +And as the aged servant left the room, Ezekiel sank back in his chair, +like one who is overpowered by a sudden and unexpected calamity. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE LEGATE OF THE POPE. + + +As Gaspar Manuel left the house of Ezekiel Bogart, he wrapped his +cloak closely about his form, and drew his sombrero low upon his face. +His head drooped upon his breast as he hurried along, with a quick +and impetuous step. Soon he was in Broadway again, amid its glare and +uproar, but he did not raise his head, nor turn his gaze to the right +or left. Head drooped upon his breast and arms gathered tightly over +his chest, he threaded his way through the mazes of the crowd, as +absent from the scene around him, as a man walking in his sleep. + +Arrived at the Astor House, he hurried to his room and changed his +dress. Divesting himself of his fashionable attire--black dress-coat, +scarf, white-vest--he clad himself in a single-breasted frock-coat, +buttoned to the throat and reaching below the knees. Above its straight +collar, a glimpse of his white cravat was perceptible. And over the +dark surface of his coat, was wound a massy gold chain, to which was +appended, a Golden Seal and a Golden Cross. Over this costume, which in +its severe simplicity, displayed his slender frame to great advantage, +he threw his cloak, and once more hurried from the Hotel. + +Pausing on the sidewalk in front of the Astor, he engaged a +hackney-coach-- + +"Do you know where, ---- ----, resides?" he asked of the driver; a huge +individual, in a white overcoat, and oil-skin hat. + +"Sure and I does jist that," was the answer. "It's meself that knows +the residence of his Riv'rence as well as the nose on my face." + +"Drive me there, at once," said Gaspar Manuel. + +And presently the carriage was rolling up Broadway, bearing Gaspar +Manuel to the residence of a prominent dignitary of the Roman Catholic +Church. + +As the little clock on the mantle struck the hour of eleven, the +Prelate was sitting in an easy chair, in front of a bright wood fire. +It was in a spacious apartment, connected with his library by a narrow +door. Two tall wax candles, placed upon the table by his side, shed +their light over the softly carpeted floor, the neatly papered walls, +and over the person of the Prelate, who was seated at his ease, in the +center of the scene. + +The Prelate was a man of some forty-five years, with boldly marked +features, and sharp fiery eyes, indicating an incessantly active mind. +The light fell mildly on his tonsured crown, encircled by brown hair, +streaked with gray, and his bold forehead and compressed lip. His form +broad in the shoulders, muscular in the chest, and slightly inclined to +corpulence, was clad in a long robe of dark purple, reaching from his +throat to his feet. There was a cross on his right breast and a diamond +ring on the little finger of his left-hand. + +Thus alone, in his most private room--the labors of the day +accomplished and the world shut out--the Prelate was absorbed in the +mazes of a delightful reverie. + +He fixed his eyes upon a picture which hung over the mantle, on the +left. It was a portrait of Cardinal Dubois, who in the days of the +Regency, trailed his Red Hat in the mire of nameless debaucheries. + +"Fool!" muttered the Prelate, "he had not even sense to hide his vices, +under the thinnest vail of decency." + +He turned his eyes to a portrait which hung over the mantle on the +right. "There was a man!" he muttered, and a smile shot over his face. +The portrait was that of Cardinal Richelieu who butchered the Huguenots +in France, while he was supplying armies to aid the Protestants of +Germany. Richelieu, one of those Politicians who seem to regard the +Church simply as a machine for the advancement of their personal +ambition,--the cross as a glittering bauble, only designed to dazzle +the eyes of the masses,--the seamless Cloak of the Redeemer, as a cloak +intended to cover outrages the most atrocious, which are done in the +name of God. + +"He was a man!" repeated the Prelate. "He moulded the men and events +of his time, and,----" he stopped. He smiled. "Why cannot I mould to +my own purposes, the men and events of my time, using the Church as a +convenient engine?" Some thought like this seemed to flit over his mind. + +Having attentively turned his gaze from Cardinal Dubois to Cardinal +Richelieu, the Prelate at length fixed his eyes upon a marble bust, +which stood in the center of the mantle. And his lips moved, and his +eyes flashed, and his right hand waved slowly to and fro, before his +face, as though he saw a glorious future, drawn in the air, by a +prophetic pencil. + +The marble bust upon which he gazed, was the bust of one, who from +the very lowest walk in life had risen to be Pope: and one of the +strongest, sternest Popes that ever held the scepter of the Vatican. + +"It can be won," ejaculated the Prelate, "and the means lie here," he +placed his hand upon a Map which lay on the table. It was a map of the +American Continent. + +"I came up stairs without ceremony," said a calm even voice; "your +Grace's servant informed me, that you expected me." + +"I am heartily glad to see you, my Lord," said the Prelate, turning +abruptly and confronting his visitor: "it is now two years since I met +your Lordship in Rome. It was, you remember, just before you departed +to Mexico, as the Legate of His Holiness. How has it been with you +since I saw you last?" + +"I have encountered many adventures," answered "His Lordship," the +Legate, "and none more interesting than those connected with the +Mission of San Luis and its lands--" + +Thus saying the Legate--in obedience to a courteous gesture from the +Prelate--flung aside his hat and cloak, and took a seat by the table. + +The Legate was none other than our friend Gaspar Manuel. + +They were in singular contrast, the Legate and the Prelate. The +muscular form and hard _practical_ face of the Prelate, was certainly, +in strong contrast with the slender frame, and pale--almost +corpse-like--face of the Legate, with its waving hair and beard of inky +blackness. Conscious that their conversation might one day have its +issue, in events or in disclosures of vital importance, they for a few +moments surveyed each other in silence. When the Prelate spoke, there +was an air of deference in his manner, which showed that he addressed +one far superior to himself in position, in rank and power. + +We will omit the Lordships and Graces with which these gentlemen, +interlarded their conversation. Lordships and Graces and Eminences, +are matters with which we simple folks of the American Union, are but +poorly acquainted. + +"You are last from Havana?" asked the Prelate. + +"Yes," answered the Legate: "and a month ago I was in the city of +Mexico; two months since in California, at the mission of San Luis." + +"And the Fathers are likely to regain possession of the deserted +mission? You intimated so much in the letter which you were kind enough +to write me from Havana." + +"They are likely to regain possession," said the Legate. + +"But the mission will be worth nothing without the thousand acres of +_barren_ land," continued the Prelate: "Will the _barren land_ go with +the mission?" + +"In regard to that point I will inform you fully before we part. For +the present let me remind you, that it was an important part of my +mission, to the New World, to ascertain the prospects of the Church in +that section of the Continent, known as the United States. Allow me to +solicit from you, a brief exposition of the condition and prospects of +our Church in this part of the globe." + +The Prelate laid his hand upon the American Continent: + +"The north, that is the Republic of the United States, will finally +absorb and rule over all the nations of the Continent. By war, by +peace, in one way or another the thing is certain--" + +He paused: the Legate made a gesture of assent. + +"It is our true policy, then, to absorb and rule over the Republic of +the North. To make our Church the secret spring of its Government; +to gradually and without exciting suspicion, mould every one of its +institutions to our own purposes; to control the education of its +people, and bend the elective franchise to our will. Is not this our +object?" + +Again the Legate signified assent. + +"And this must be done, by making New York the center of our system. +New York is in reality, the metropolis of the Continent; from New +York as from a common center, therefore all our efforts must radiate. +From New York we will control the Republic, shape it year by year to +our purposes; as it adds nation after nation to its Union, we will +make our grasp of its secret springs of action, the more certain and +secure; and at last the hour will come, when this Continent apparently +one united republic, will in fact, be the richest altar, the strongest +abiding-place, the most valuable property of the Church. Yes, the hour +will come, when the flimsy scaffolding of Republicanism will fall, and +as it falls, our Church will stand revealed, her foundation in the +heart of the American Republic; her shadow upon every hill and valley +of the Continent. For you know," and his eye flashed, "that our battle +against what is called Democracy and Progress, is to be fought not in +the Old World, where everything is on our side, but in the New World, +where these damnable heresies do most abound." + +"True," interrupted the Legate, thoughtfully; "the New World is the +battle-field of opinions. Here the fight must take place." + +"You ask how our work is to begin? Here in New York we will commence +it. Hundreds of thousands of foreigners of our faith arrive in this +city every year. Be it our task to plant an eternal barrier between +these men, and those who are American citizens by birth. To prevent +them from mingling with the American People, from learning the +traditions of American history, which give the dogma of Democracy its +strongest hold upon the heart, to _isolate_ them, in the midst of the +American nation. In a word, the first step of our work is, to array +at the zealous _Foreign_ party, an opposition to an envenomed _Native +American_ party." + +"This you have commenced already," said the Legate,--"it was in Mexico, +that I heard of Philadelphia last summer--of Philadelphia on the verge +of civil war with Protestants and Catholics flooding the gutters with +their blood, while the flames of burning churches lit up the midnight +sky." + +"The outbreak was rather premature," calmly continued the Prelate, "but +it has done us good. It has invested us with the light of martyrdom, +the glory of persecution. It has drawn to us the sympathies of tens of +thousands of Protestants, who, honestly disliking the assaults of the +mere 'No-Popery' lecturers upon our church, as honestly entertain the +amusing notion, that the Rulers of our church, look upon 'Toleration, +Liberty of Conscience,' and so forth, with any feeling, but profound +contempt." + +"Ah!" ejaculated the Legate, and a smile crossed his face, "deriving +strength from the illimitable bitterness of the Native American +and Foreign political parties, we already hold in many portions of +the Union, the ballot box in our grasp. We can dictate terms to +both political parties. Their leaders court us. Editors who know +that we rooted Protestantism out of Spain, by the red hand of the +Inquisition,--that for our faith we made the Netherlands rich in +gibbets and graves,--that we gave the word, which started from its +scabbard the dagger of St. Bartholomew,--grave editors, who know all +this and more, talk of us as the friends of Liberty and Toleration--" + +"But there was Calvert, the founder of Maryland, and Carroll the signer +of the Declaration of Independence, these were Catholics, were they +not, Catholics and friends of Liberty?" + +"They were _laymen_, not _rulers_, you will remember," said the +Prelate, significantly: "at best they belonged to a sort of Catholics, +which, in the Old World, we have done our best to root out of the +church. But here, however, we can use their names and their memories, +as a cloak for our purposes of ultimate dominion. But to resume: both +political parties court us. Their leaders, who loathe us, are forced +to kneel to us. Things we can do freely and without blame, which damn +any Protestant sect but to utter. The very 'No-Popery' lecturers aid +us: they attack doctrinal points in our church, which are no more +assailable than the doctrinal points of any one of their ten thousand +sects: they would be dangerous, indeed, were they to confine their +assaults to the simple fact, that ours is not so much a church as an +EMPIRE, having for its object, the temporal dominion of the whole human +race, to be accomplished under the vail of spiritualism. An EMPIRE +built upon the very sepulcher of Jesus Christ,--an EMPIRE which holds +Religion, the Cross, the Bible, as valuable just so far as they aid its +efforts for the temporal subjection of the world,--an EMPIRE which, +using all means and holding all means alike lawful, for the spread of +its dominion, has chosen the American Continent as the scene of its +loftiest triumph, the theater of its final and most glorious victories!" + +As he spoke the Atheist Prelate started from his chair. + +Far different from those loving Apostles, who through long ages, have +in the Catholic Church, repeated in their deeds, the fullness of Love, +which filled the breast of the Apostle John,--far different from the +Fenelons and Paschals of the church,--this Prelate was a cold-blooded +and practical Atheist. Love of women, love of wine, swayed him not. +Lust of power was his spring of action--his soul. He may have at times, +assented to Religion, but that he believed in it as an awful verity, +as a Truth worth all the physical power and physical enjoyment in the +universe,--the Prelate never had a thought like this. An ambitious +atheist, a Borgia without his lust, a Richelieu with all of Richelieu's +cunning, and not half of Richelieu's intellect, a cold-blooded, +practical schemer for his own elevation at any cost,--such was the +Prelate. Talk to him of Christ as a consoler, as a link between +crippled humanity and a better world, as of a friend who meets you +on the dark highway of life, and takes you from sleet and cold, into +the light of a dear, holy home,--talk to him of the love which imbues +and makes alive every word from the lips of Christ,--ha! ha! Your +atheistical Prelate would laugh at the thought. He was a worldling. +Risen from the very depths of poverty, he despised the poor from whom +he sprung. For years a loud and even brawling advocate of justice for +Ireland,--an ecclesiastical stump orator; a gatherer of the pennies +earned by the hard hand of Irish labor,--he was the man to blaspheme +her cause and vilify its honest advocates, when her dawn of Revolution +darkened into night again. He was the pugilist of the Pulpit, the +gladiator of controversy, always itching for a fight, never so happy as +when he set honest men to clutching each other by the throat. Secure +in his worldly possessions, rich from the princely revenues derived +from the poor--the hard working poor of his church,--a tyrant to the +parish priests who were so unfortunate as to be subjected to his sway, +by turns the Demagogue of Irish freedom and the _Mouchard_ of Austrian +despotism, he was a vain, bad, cunning, but _practical_ man, this +Atheist Prelate of the Roman Church. + +"Now, what think you of our plans and our prospects?" said the Prelate, +triumphantly--"can we not, using New York as the center of our +operations, the Ballot Box, social dissension and sectarian warfare as +the means, can we not, mould the New World to our views, and make it +Rome, Rome, in every inch of its soil?" + +The Legate responded quietly: + +"I see but one obstacle--" + +"Only one; that is well--" + +"And that obstacle is not so much the memory of the American Past, +which some of these foolish Americans still consider holy--not so +much the memory of Penn the Quaker; Calvert the Catholic, who planted +their silly dogma of Brotherly love on the Delaware and St. Mary's, +in the early dawn of this country,--not so much the Declaration of +Independence, nor the blood-marks which wrote its principles, on the +soil from Bunker Hill to Savannah, from Brandywine to Yorktown,--not +so much the history of the sixty-eight years, which in the American +Republic, have shown a growth, an enterprise, a development never +witnessed on God's earth before,--not so much all this, as the single +obstacle which I now lay on the table before you." + +And from the breast of his coat he drew forth a small, thin volume, +which he laid upon the table: + +"This!" cried the Prelate, as though a bomb-shell had burst beneath his +chair; "This! Why this is the four Gospels according to Matthew, Mark, +Luke and John!" + +"Precisely. And Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, those simple fellows are +the very ones whom we have most to fear." + +"But I have driven this book from the Common Schools!" cried the +Prelate, rather testily. + +"Have you driven it from the home?" quietly asked the Legate. + +The Prelate absently toyed with his cross, but did not answer. + +"Can you drive it from the home?" asked the Legate. + +The Prelate gazed at the portrait of Cardinal Dubois, and then at +Richelieu's, but did not reply. + +"Do you not see the difficulty?" continued the Legate, "so long +as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, sit down by the firesides of the +people, making themselves a part and parcel of the dearest memories of +every household,--so long we may chop logic, weave plots, traffic in +casuistry, but in vain!" + +"True, that book is capable of much mischief," said the Prelate; "it +has caused more revolutions than you could count in a year." + +"In Spain, where this book is scarcely known, in Italy, where to read +it is imprisonment and chains, we can get along well enough, but here, +in the United States, where this book is a fireside book in every home, +the first book that the child looks into, and the last that the dying +old man listens to, as his ear is growing deaf with death,--here what +shall we do? You know that it is a Democratic book?" + +"Yes." + +"That it is so simple in its enunciations of brotherly love, equality, +and the love of God for all mankind, so simple and yet so strong, that +it has required eighteen centuries of scholastic casuistry and whole +tons of volumes, devoted to theological special pleading, to darken its +simple meaning?" + +"Yes, yes." + +"That in its portraitures of Christ, there is something that stirs +the hearts of the humblest, and sets them on fire with the thought, +'I too, am not a beast, but a child of God, destined to have a home +here and an immortality hereafter?' That its profound contempt of +riches and of mere worldly power,--its injunctions to the rich, 'sell +all thou hast and give to the poor;' its pictures of Christ, coming +from the workman's bench, and speaking, acting, doing and dying, so +that the masses might no longer be the sport of priest or king, but +the recreated men and women of a recreated social world; that in all +this, it has caused more revolutions, given rise to more insurrections, +leveled more deadly blows at absolute authority, than all other books +that have been written since the world began?" + +"Yes--y-e-s--y-e-s," said the Prelate. "True, true, a mischievous book. +But how would you remedy the evil?" + +"That's the question," said the Legate, dryly. + +After a long pause they began to talk concerning the mission of San +Luis in California--its fertile hills and valleys, rich in the olive, +fig, grape, orange and pomegranate,--and of the _thousand acres of +barren land_, claimed alike by the Jesuits and Dr. Martin Fulmer. + +"The claim of the Fathers, to the mission-house and lands of San Luis, +is established then?" said the Prelate. + +"It has been acknowledged by the Mexican Government," was the reply of +the Legate. + +"And the claim to the thousand barren acres?" + +"It rests in my hands," replied the Legate: "by a train of +circumstances altogether natural, although to some they may appear +singular, it is in my power to decide, whether these thousand barren +acres shall belong to our Church or to Dr. Martin Fulmer." + +"And it is not difficult to see which way your verdict wall fall;" the +Prelate's eyes sparkled and a smile lit up his harsh features. + +"These acres are barren, barren so far as the fig, the orange, the +vine, the pomegranate are concerned, barren even of the slightest +portion of shrubbery or verdure, but rich--" + +"Rich in gold!" ejaculated the Prelate, folding his arms and fixing +his eyes musingly upon the fire,--"gold sufficient to pave my way from +this chair to the Papal throne;" he muttered to himself. "In Rome," he +said aloud, "I had an opportunity to examine the records of the various +missions, established by our Church in California; and they all contain +traditions of incredible stores of gold, hidden under the rocks and +sands of California. Does your experience confirm those traditions?" + +"I have traversed that land from the Sierra Nevada to the Pacific, and +from North to South," replied the Legate, "and it is my opinion, based +on facts, that California is destined to exercise an influence upon the +course of civilization and the fate of nations, such as has not been +felt for a thousand years." + +He paused, as if collecting in his mind, in one focus, a panorama of +the varied scenery, climate, productions, of the region between the +snows of the Sierra Nevada and the Pacific. Then, while his pale face +flushed with excitement, and his bright eyes grew even yet more vivid +in their luster, he continued: + +"The bowels of the land are rich in gold," he said, in that low-toned +but musical voice. "It is woven in the seams of her rocks. It +impregnates her soil. It gleams in the sand of her rivers. Gold, gold, +gold,--such as Banker never counted, nor the fancy of a Poet, ever +dreamed of. Deep in her caverns the ore is shining; upon her mountain +sides it flings back the rays of the sun; her forest trees are rooted +in gold. Could you fathom her secrets, you would behold gold enough +to set the world mad. Men would leave their homes, and all that makes +life dear, and journey over land and sea, by hundreds of thousands, in +pilgrimage to this golden land. The ships of the crusaders would whiten +every sea, their caravans would belt every desert. The whole world, +stirred into avaricious lust, would gravitate to this rock of gold." + +Turning to the Prelate, he said abruptly: + +"Did you ever attempt to unravel the superstition of Gold?" + +"The superstition of Gold?" echoed the Prelate. + +"Yes, superstition of gold. For that wide-spread opinion in regard to +the value of gold, is one of the most incredible superstitions that +ever damned the soul of man. It obtains in all ages and on every shore. +In the days of the Patriarchs, and in the days of the Bankers,--among +the sleekly-attired people of civilized races, and among savage hordes, +naked as the beasts,--everywhere and in all ages, this superstition has +obtained, and crushed mankind, not with an iron, but with a golden rod. +(There are exceptions, I grant, as in the case of the North American +Indians, and other savage tribes, but it cannot be denied, that this +superstition which fixes a certain value on gold, has overspread the +earth, in all ages, as universal as the very air.) What religion has +ruled so absolutely and reigned so long, as this deep-implanted golden +superstition,--this Catholic religion of the yellow ore?" + +"But gold is valuable in itself," interrupted the Prelate--"it is +something more than the representative of labor; in a thousand respects +it surpasses all other metals. It is an article of merchandise, a part +of commerce; even were it not money, it would always bring more money +than any other metal." + +"This is often said, and is plausible. Admit all you assert, and the +question occurs, '_Why should it be so?_' When you say that gold is +the most precious of all metals, an article of value in _itself_, as +well as the representative of labor, you assert a fact, but you do not +_explain_ that fact. Far, far from it. But why should it be so? What +_use_ has it been to man, that it should receive this high distinction? +Iron, lead, copper--all of these are a million fold more useful than +gold--No--reflect a little while. Bend all your thought to the subject. +Track the yellow ore through all ages, and at last, you must come to +the conclusion, that the value placed upon gold is a superstition, as +vast as it is wicked,--a superstition which has crushed more hearts and +damned more souls, than all the (so called) _Religious_ superstitions +that smear the page of history with blood. That such a superstition +exists, would alone convince me of the existence of an embodied Devil, +who, perpetually at war with God, does with a direct interference, +derange his laws, and crush the hopes of his children." + +For a moment, he shaded his eyes with his hand, while the Prelate gazed +upon him, with something of surprise in his look. + +"Can you estimate the evils which have flowed from this superstition? +No. The reason falters, the imagination shudders: at the very thought +you are bewildered,--dumb. But think of it as you will,--entangle +yourself among the sophistries which attempt to explain, but in +reality only darken it,--view it as a political economist, a banker, +a merchant, or a worker in precious metals,--and you only plunge the +deeper into the abyss of doubt and bewilderment. You cannot explain +this superstition, unless you mount higher, and grasp that great law +of God, which says, forever, '_It is wicked for_ ONE MAN _to clothe +himself with luxury, at the expense of the sweat and blood of another_ +MAN, _who is his Brother_.' Grasp this truth firmly; understand +it in all its bearings,--and you discern the source of the Golden +superstition; for it had its source, in that depraved idleness which +seeks luxury at the expense of human suffering,--which coins enjoyment +for a few men, on the immeasurable wretchedness of entire races of +mankind. The first man who sought to rob his Brother of the fruits of +his labor, and of his place on the earth, was doubtless the inventor +of the golden superstition; for turn and twist it as you will, gold is +only valuable because it _represents_ labor. All its value springs from +that cause. It represents labor already done, and it represents labor +that is to be done, and therefore,--therefore only,--is it valuable. +And it is the most convenient engine by which the idlers of the World +can enslave the laborers--therefore it has always retained its value. +Backed by the _delusion_ which fixes upon it a certain value, and makes +it more precious than the blood of hearts, or the salvation of the +entire human race, gold will continue to be the great engine for the +destruction of that race--for its moral and physical damnation--just +as long as the few continue to live upon the wretchedness of the many. +Once destroy this superstition,--take away from gold its certain +value--make that value vague, uncertain, and subject to as many changes +as a bank note,--and you will have wrested the lash from the hand of +the oppressor all over the world." + +These words made a deep impression upon the Prelate, an impression +which he dared not trust himself to frame in words. Suppressing an +exclamation that started to his lips, he asked in a calm conversational +tone-- + +"Will the discovery of the golden land have this effect?" + +It was in a saddened tone, and with a downcast eye, that the Legate +replied: + +"Ah, that is, indeed, a fearful question. A question that may well make +one shudder. One of two things must happen. From the rocks and sands of +the golden land, the oppressors of the world will derive new means of +oppression, or from those rocks and sands, will come the instrument, +which is to lift up the masses and shake the oppressors to the dust. +What shall be the result? Shall new and more damning chains, for human +hearts, be forged upon the gold of these sands and rocks? Or, tottering +among these rocks and sands, shall poor humanity at last discover the +instrument of her redemption? God alone can tell." + +The Prelate was silent. Folding his hands he surveyed the pallid visage +of the Legate, with a look hard to define. + +"The first wind that blows intelligence from this land of gold, will +convulse the world. A few years hence, and these sands, now sparkling +with ore, will be white with human skeletons. Thousands and hundreds of +thousands will rush to seek the glittering ore, and find a grave, in +the mud by the rivers' banks; hundreds of thousands will lie unburied +in the depths of trackless deserts, or in the darkness of trackless +ravines; the dog and the wolf will feed well upon human hearts." + +Suppressing the emotion aroused, by a portion of the Legate's remarks, +the Prelate asked: + +"And the thousand _barren_ acres contain incredible stores of gold?" + +"Gold sufficient to affect the destiny of one-half the globe," replied +the Legate: "gold, that employed in a good cause, would bless and +elevate millions of the oppressed, or devoted to purposes of evil, +might curse the dearest rights of half the human race." + +"And it is in your power to establish the right of our Church to these +lands?" + +"It is. A word from me, and the thing is done." + +"Pardon me," said the Prelate, slowly, and measuring every word,--"some +portions of your remarks excite my curiosity. You speak of the +oppressed, and of the oppressors. Now,--now,--from any lips but yours, +these words, and the manner in which you use them, would sound like +the doctrines of the French Socialists. What do you precisely mean by +'oppressed,'--and who, in your estimation, are the '_oppressors_?'" + +The Legate rose from his seat, and fixed his eyes upon the Prelate's +face: + +"There are many kinds of oppressors, but the most infamous, are those +who use the Church of God, as the engine of their atrocious crimes." + +This remark fell like a thunderbolt. + +The Prelate slowly rose from his chair, his face flushed and his chest +heaving. + +"Sir!" he cried in a voice of thunder. + +"Nay--you need not raise your voice,--much less confront me with that +frowning brow. You know me and know the position which I hold. You know +that I am above your reach,--that, perchance, a word from me, uttered +in the proper place, might stop your career, even at the threshold. I +know you, and know that you belong to the party, which, for ages, has +made our church the instrument of the most infernal wrongs--" + +"Sir!" again ejaculated the Prelate. + +"A party, whose noblest monument is made of the skeletons, the racks +and thumbscrews of the Inquisition, and whose history can only be +clearly read, save by the torchlight of St. Bartholomew--" + +"This from you, sir,--" + +"A party whose avowed atheism produced the French Revolution, and whose +cloaked atheism is even now sowing the seeds of social hell-fire, in +this country and in Europe--" + +"I swear, sir--" + +"Hear me, sir, for I am only here to read you a plain lesson. You, +and men like you, may possibly convert the Church once more into the +instrument of ferocious absolutism and the engine of colossal murder, +but remember--" + +He flung his coat around him, and stood erect, his face even more +deathly pale than usual, his eyes shining with clear and intense light. +There was a grandeur in his attitude and look. + +"Remember, even in the moments of your bloodiest triumphs, that even +within the Church of Rome, swayed by such as you, there is another +Church of Rome, composed of men, who, when the hour strikes, will +sacrifice everything to the cause of humanity and God." + +These words were pronounced slowly and deliberately, with an emphasis +which drove the color from the Prelate's cheek. + +"Think of it, within Rome, a higher, mightier Rome,--within the order +of Jesuits, a higher and mightier order of Jesuits--and whenever you, +and such as you, turn, you will be met by men, who have sworn to use +the Church, as the instrument of human progress, or to drive forward +the movement over its ruins." + +He moved to the door, but lingered for a moment on the threshold: + +"It is a great way," he said, "from the turnpike to the Vatican." + +This he said, and disappeared. (The Prelate had risen from the position +of breaker of stone on the public road, only to use all his efforts to +crush and damn the masses from whom he sprung.) + +And the Prelate was now left alone, to pick up the thunderbolt which +had fallen at his feet. + +Half an hour after this scene, the Legate once more ascended the steps +of the Astor House, his cloak wound tightly about his slender form, his +face,--and perchance the emotions written there,--cast into shadow by +his broad sombrero. He was crossing the hall, flaring with gas-lights, +when he was aroused from his reverie by these words,-- + +"My lord,--" + +The speaker was a man of some forty-five years, with a hard, +unmeaning face, and vague gray eyes. His ungainly form,--for he was +round-shouldered, knock-kneed and clumsily footed,--was clad in black, +varied only by a strip of dirty white about his bull-like neck. As he +stood obsequiously, hat in hand, his bald crown, scantily encircled by +a few hairs of no particular color, was revealed; and also his low, +broad forehead. He looked very much like an ecclesiastic, whom habits +of passive obedience have converted into a human fossil. + +"My lord,--" + +"Pshaw, Michael, none of that nonsense here. Have you obeyed the +directions which I gave you before I left the steamer to-night?" + +"I have, my--" 'lord,' he was about to say, but he substituted 'your +excellence!'--"Your country seat, near the city, is in good order. +Everything has been prepared in anticipation of your arrival. I have +just returned from it,--Maryvale, I think you call it?" + +"Maryvale," replied the Legate, "Did you tell Felix to have my carriage +ready for me, after midnight, at the place and the hour which I named?" + +"Yes, my lord,"--and Michael bowed low. + +"No more of that nonsense, I repeat it.--This is not the country for +it. How did you dispose of Cain?" + +"I left Cain at the country seat." + +"It is well," said the Legate, and having spoken further words to +Michael, in a lower tone, he dismissed him, and went silently to his +chamber. + +And CAIN of whom they spoke. We shall see CAIN after a while. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +"JOANNA." + + +At the hour of eleven o'clock, on the night of December 23d, 1844, +----. A gentleman of immense wealth, who occupied his own mansion, +in the upper part of New York, came from his library, and descended +the broad staircase, which led to the first floor of his mansion. His +slight frame was wrapped in a traveling cloak and a gay traveling cap +shaded his features. He held a carpet-bag in his hand. Arrived on the +first floor, he entered a magnificent range of apartments communicating +with each other by folding-doors, and lighted by an elegant chandelier. +Around him, wherever he turned, was everything in the form of luxury, +that the eye could desire or the power of wealth procure. Thick +carpets, massive mirrors, lofty ceiling, walls broken here and there +with a niche in which a marble statue was placed--these and other signs +of wealth, met his gaze at every step. + +He was a young man of fine personal appearance, and refined tastes. +Without a profession, he employed his immense wealth in ministering to +his taste for the arts. The only son of a man of fortune, educated to +the habit of spending money without earning it, he had married about +two years before, an exceedingly beautiful woman, the only daughter of +a wealthy and aristocratic family. + +And far back in a nook of this imposing _suite_ of apartments, where +the light of the chandelier is softened by the shadows of statue +and marble pillar, sits this wife, a woman in the prime of early +womanhood.--Her shape, at the same time tall, rounded, and commanding, +is enveloped in a loose wrapper, which seems rather to float about +her form, than to gird it closely. Her face is bathed in tears. As +her husband approaches she rises and confronts him with a _blonde_ +countenance, fair blue eyes and golden hair. That face, beaming with +young loveliness, is shadowed with grief. + +"Must you go, indeed, my husband?"--and clad in that flowing robe, she +rests her hands upon his shoulder, and looks tearfully into his face. + +His cloak falls and discloses his slight and graceful form. He +removes his traveling cap, and his wife may freely gaze upon that +dark-complexioned face, whose regular features, remind you of an Apollo +cast in bronze. His dark eyes flash with clear light as she raises one +hand, and places it upon his forehead, and twines her fingers among the +curls of his jet-black hair. + +Take it all in all, it is an interesting picture, centered in that +splendid room, where everything breathes luxury and wealth--the slender +form of the young husband clad in black, contrasted with the imposing +figure of the young wife, enveloped in drapery of flowing white. + +"I must go, wife. Kiss me."--She bent back his head and gazing upon +him long and earnestly, suffered her lips to join his,--"I'll be back +before Christmas." + +"You are sure that you must go?" she exclaimed, toying with the curls +of his dark hair. + +"You saw the letter which I received from Boston. My poor brother lies +at the point of death. I must see him, Joanna,--you know how it pains +me to be absent from you, only for a day,--but I must go. I'll be back +by Christmas morning." + +"Will you; indeed, though, Eugene?"--she wound her arms about his +neck--"You know how drearily the time passes without you. O, how I +shall count the hours until you return!" And at every word she smoothed +his forehead with her hand, and touched his mouth with those lips which +bloomed with the ripeness and purity of perfect womanhood. + +"I must go, Joanna,"--and convulsed at the thought of leaving this +young wife, even for a day, the husband gathered her to his breast, and +then seizing his cloak and carpet-bag, hurried from the room. His steps +were heard in the hall without, and presently the sound of the closing +door reached the ears of the young wife. + +An expression of intense sorrow passed over her face, and she remained +in the center of the room, her hand clasped over her noble bust, and +her head bowed in an attitude of deep melancholy. + +"He is gone," she murmured, and passing through the spacious apartment, +she traversed the hall, and ascended the broad stairway. + +At the head of the stairway was a large and roomy apartment, warmed +(like every room in the mansion) from an invisible source, which gave a +delightful temperature to the atmosphere. There was a small workstand +in the midst of the apartment, on which stood a lighted candle. A +servant maid was sleeping with her head upon the table, and one hand +resting upon a cradle at her side. In that cradle, above the verge of a +silken coverlet, appeared the face of a cherub boy, fast asleep, with +a rose on his cheek, and ringlets of auburn hair, tangled about his +forehead, white as alabaster. + +This room the young mother entered, and treading on tiptoe, she +approached the cradle and bent over it, until her lips touched the +forehead of the sleeping boy. And when she rose again there was a tear +upon his cheek,--it had fallen from the blue eye of the mother. + +Retiring noiselessly, she sought her own chamber, where a taper was +dimly burning before a mirror. By that faint light you might trace the +luxurious appointment of the place,--a white bed, half shadowed in an +alcove--a vase of alabaster filled with fragrant flowers--and curtains +falling like snow-flakes along the lofty windows. The idea of wifely +purity was associated with every object in that chamber. + +"I shall not want you to-night, Eliza; I will undress myself," +exclaimed Joanna to a female servant, who stood waiting near the +mirror. "You may retire." + +The servant retired, and the young wife was alone. She extinguished the +taper, and all was still throughout the mansion. But she did not retire +to her bed. Advancing in the darkness, she opened a door behind the +bed, and entered the bath-room, where she lighted a lamp by the aid of +a perfumed match which she found, despite the gloom. The bath-room was +oval in shape, with an arched ceiling. The walls, the ceiling and the +floor were of white marble. In the center was the bath, resembling an +immense shell, sunk into the marble floor. This place, without ornament +or decoration of any kind, save the pure white of the walls and floor, +was pervaded by luxurious warmth. The water which filled the shell or +hollow in the center of the floor, emitted a faint but pungent perfume. + +She disrobed herself and descended into the bath, suffering her golden +hair to float freely about her shoulders. + +After the lapse of a quarter of an hour, this beautiful woman took the +light and passed into the bed chamber. She cast a glance toward her +bed, which had been consecrated by her marriage, and by the birth of +her first and only child. Then advancing toward a wardrobe of rosewood, +which stood in a recess opposite the bed, she took from thence a dress, +with which she proceeded to encase her form. A white robe, loose and +flowing, with a hood resembling the cowl of a nun. This robe was of +the softest satin. She enveloped her form in its folds, threw the hood +over her head, and looking in the mirror, surveyed her beautiful face, +which, glowing with warmth, was framed in her golden hair, and in the +folds of the satin cowl. + +She drew slippers of delicate satin, white as her robe, upon her naked +feet. + +Then, taking from the wardrobe a heavy cloak, lined throughout with +fur, as soft as the satin which clad her shape, she wound it about her +from head to foot, and stood completely buried in its voluminous folds. + +Once more she listened: all was still throughout that mansion, the home +of aristocratic wealth. Thus clad in the silken robe and cowl, covered +in its turn by the shapeless black cloak, this young wife, whose limbs +were glowing with the warmth of the bath, whose person was invested +with a delicate perfume, turned once more and gazed upon her marriage +bed, and a deep sigh swelled her bosom. She next extinguished the +light, and passing from the chamber, descended the marble staircase. +All was dark. She entered the suite of apartments on the first +floor, which, adorned with pillars, communicated with each other by +folding-doors. The chandelier had been extinguished, and the scene was +wrapt in impenetrable darkness. + +Standing in the darkness,--her only apparel the silken robe, and the +thick, warm cloak which covered it,--the young wife trembled like a +leaf. + +She attempted to utter a word, but her voice failed her. + +"Joanna!" breathed a voice, speaking near her. + +"Beverly!" answered the young wife, breathing the name in a whisper. + +A faint sound like a step, whose echo is muffled by thick carpets, and +the hand of a man, clasps the hand of Joanna. + +"How long have you been here?" she whispered. + +"I just entered," was the answer. + +"How?" + +"By the front door, and the key which you gave me." + +"O, I tremble so,--I am afraid--" + +An arm encircled the cloak which covered her, and girded it tightly +about her form. + +"Has _he_ gone, Joanna?" + +"Yes, Beverly,--half an hour ago." + +"Come, then, let us go. The carriage is waiting at the next corner; +and the street-lamp near the front door is extinguished. All is dark +without; no one can see us." + +"Are you sure, Beverly--I tremble so." + +"Come, Joanna," and through the thick darkness he led her toward the +hall, supporting her form upon his arm. + +"O, whither are you leading me," she whispered in a broken voice. + +"Can you ask? Don't you remember my note of to-day? To the TEMPLE, +Joanna." + +Their steps echo faintly from the entry. + +Then the faint sound produced by the careful closing of the street door +is heard. + +A pause of one or two minutes. + +Hark! The rolling of carriage wheels. + +All is still as death throughout the mansion and the street on which it +fronts. + +Hours pass away, and once more the street door is unclosed, and +carefully closed again. A step echoes faintly through the hall,--very +faintly,--and yet it can be heard distinctly, so profound is the +stillness which reigns throughout the mansion. It ascends the marble +staircase, and is presently heard crossing the threshold of the +bed-chamber. A pause ensues, and the taper in front of the mirror is +lighted again, and a faint ray steals through the chamber. + +EUGENE LIVINGSTONE stands in front of the mirror. He flings his cloak +on a chair, dashes his cap from his brow, and wipes the sweat from his +forehead,--although he has just left the air of a winter night, his +forehead is bathed in moisture. His slender frame shakes as with an +ague-chill. His eyes are unnaturally dilated; the white of the eyeball +may be plainly traced around the pupil of each eye. His lips are +pressed together, and yet they quiver, as if with deathly cold. + +He does not utter a single ejaculation. + +A letter is in his right hand, neatly folded and scented with +_pachouli_. It bears the name "_Joanna_," as a superscription. He opens +it and reads its contents, traced in a delicate hand-- + + JOANNA-- + + _To-night,--at Twelve_.--THE TEMPLE. + + BEVERLY. + +Having read the brief letter, the husband draws another from a +side-pocket: "There may be a mistake about the handwriting," he +murmurs, "let us compare them." + +The second letter is addressed to "EUGENE LIVINGSTONE, ESQ.," and its +contents, which the husband traces by the light of the taper, are as +follows: + + _New York, Dec._ 23, 1844. + + DEAR EUGENE:--Sorry to hear that you have such sad news from Boston. + Must you go to-night? Send me word and I'll try to go with you. Thine, + ever, + + BEVERLY BARRON. + +Long and intently, the husband compared these two letters. His +countenance underwent many changes. But there could be no doubt of +it--both letters were written by the same hand. + +"He wrote to me early this morning, and to my wife about an hour +afterward,--as soon as he received my answer. I found the letter to her +upon the floor of this chamber, only two hours ago." + +He replaced both letters in his vest pocket. + +Then taking the taper, he bent his steps toward the room at the head +of the marble staircase. The young nurse was fast asleep on the couch, +near the cradle. + +Eugene bent over the cradle. Resting its rosy cheek on its bent arm, +the child was sleeping there, its auburn hair still tangled about its +forehead. He could not help pressing his lips to that forehead, and +a tear--the only tear that he shed--fell from his hot eye-ball, and +sparkled like a pearl upon the baby's cheek. + +Then Eugene returned to the bedchamber, and sat down beside the bed, +still holding the taper in his grasp. The light fell softly over the +unruffled coverlet. + +"I remember the night when she first crossed yonder threshold, and +slept in this bed." + +There were traces of womanish weakness upon his bronzed face, but he +banished them in a moment, and the expression of his eye and lip became +fixed and resolute. + +He sat for five minutes with his elbow on his knee, and his forehead in +his hand. + +Then rising, he opened his carpet-bag, and took from thence a black +robe, with wide sleeves, and a cowl. It took but a moment to assume +his robe, and draw the cowl over his dark locks. He caught a glance at +his face, thus framed in the velvet cowl, and started as he beheld the +contrast between its ashy hues and the dark folds which concealed it. + +"'THE TEMPLE!'" he muttered, and pressed his hand against his +forehead,--"I believe I remember the pass word." + +He took a pair of pistols, and a long slender dagger, sheathed in +silver, from the carpet-bag, and regarded them for a moment. + +"No, no," he exclaimed, "these will not avail for a night like this." + +Gathering his cloak about him, he extinguished the taper, and crossed +the threshold of his bed-chamber. His steps were heard on the stairs, +and soon the faint jar of the shut door was heard. + +And as he left the house, the child in the cradle awoke from its +slumber and stretched forth its little head, and in its baby voice +called the name of the young MOTHER. + +Our story now turns to Randolph and Esther. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE WHITE SLAVE AND HIS SISTER. + + +As the night set in--the night of December 23d, 1844--two persons were +seated in the recess of a lofty window, which commanded a view of +Broadway. It was the window of a drawing-room, on the second floor of a +four storied edifice, built of brick, with doors and window-frames of +marble.--By the dim light which prevailed, it might be seen that the +drawing-room was spacious and elegantly furnished. Mirrors, pictures +and statues broke softly through the twilight. + +Seated amid the silken curtains of the window, these persons sat in +silence--the man with his arms folded, and his head sunk upon his +breast, the woman with her hands clasped over her bosom, and her eyes +fixed upon the face of her companion. The woman was very beautiful; +one of those who are called 'queenly' by persons who have never seen a +live queen, and who are ignorant of the philosophical truth, that one +beautiful woman is worth all the queens in the universe. The man was +dark-haired, and of a complexion singularly pale and colorless; there +was thought upon his forehead, and something of an unpleasant memory, +written in his knit brows and compressed lips. + +The silence which had prevailed for half an hour, was broken by a +whisper from the lips of the woman-- + +"Of what are you thinking, Randolph?" + +"Of the strange man whom we met at the house half way between New +York and Philadelphia. His name and his personality are wrapt in +impenetrable mystery." + +"Had it not been for him--" + +"Ay, had it not been for him, we should have been lost. You would +have become the prey of the--the _master_, Esther, who owns you, and +I,--I--well, no matter, I would have been dead." + +"After the scene in THE _house_, Randolph, he came on with us, and by +his directions we took rooms at the City Hotel. From the moment of our +arrival, only a few hours ago, we did not see him, until--" + +"Until an hour ago. Then he came into our room at the hotel. 'Here is a +key,' said he, 'and your home is No. ----, Broadway. Go there at once, +and await patiently the coming of the twenty-fifth of December.--You +will find servants to wait upon you, you will find money to supply your +wants,--it is in the drawer of the desk which you will discover in your +bedroom--and most of all, you will there be safe from the attempts +of your persecutor.' These were his words. We came at once, and find +ourselves--the servants excepted--the sole tenants of this splendid +mansion." + +"But don't you remember his last words, as we left the hotel? 'At the +hour of six,' said he, this singular unknown, 'you will be waited on by +a much treasured friend.'--Who can it be that is to come and see us at +that hour?" + +"Friend," Randolph echoed bitterly, "what '_friend_' have we, save this +personage, whose very name is unknown to us? Our father is dead. When I +say that I say at once that we are utterly alone in the world." + +"And yet there is a career before you, Randolph," faltered Esther. + +"A splendid career, ha, ha, Esther, yes a splendid career for the +White Slave! You forget, good girl, that we have negro blood in our +veins. How much wealth do you think it would require to blot out the +memory of the past? Suppose we are successful on the twenty-fifth of +December,--suppose the mysterious trustee of the Van Huyden estate +recognizes us as the children of one of the Seven,--suppose that we +receive a share of this immense wealth--well, Esther, what will it +avail us? Wherever we turn, the whisper will ring in our ears, 'They +have negro blood in their veins. Their mother was descended from the +black race. True, they look whiter than the palest of the Caucasian +race, but--but'--(do you hear it, Esther?) 'but they _have negro blood +in their veins_.'" + +He started from his chair, and his sister saw, even by the dim light +which came through the half-drawn window-curtains, that his chest +heaved, and his face was distorted by a painful emotion. + +She also arose. + +"Randolph," she whispered, and laid her hand gently on his arm, +"Randolph, my brother, I say it again, come wealth or poverty, you have +a career before you. In Europe we may find a home,--" + +"Europe!" he echoed, "And must we go to Europe, in order to be +permitted to live? No, Esther, no! I am an American, yes,"--and his +voice, low and deep, echoed proudly through the stillness of the +dimly-lighted room,--"yes, I am a Carolinian, ay, a South Carolinian; +South Carolina is my home; while I live, I will not cease to assert my +right to a place, ay, and no dishonorable place--on my native soil." + +He passed his sister's arm through his own, and led her gently over the +carpet, which, soft as down, returned no echo to their tread. The lofty +ceiling stretched above them, in the vague twilight; and on either hand +were the walls adorned with paintings and statues. The mirror, which +but dimly reflected their forms, flashed gently through the gloom. + +"And Esther, there is one reason why I will not become an exile, which +I have never spoken to mortal ears--not even to yours, my sister. It +was communicated to me by my father, before I left for Europe: he +placed _proofs_ in my possession which do not admit of denial. Sister, +my epistle!--Here, in the dimly-lighted room, to which we have been +guided by an unknown friend,--here, surrounded by mystery, and with the +marks of wealth all about us,--here, as the crisis of our fate draws +near, let me breathe the secret in your ears." + +He paused in the center of the room. His sister felt his arm tremble +as he drew her to his side. His voice betrayed, in its earnest yet +faltering tones, an unfathomable emotion. And Esther clinging to his +side, and looking up into his face--which she could scarcely discern +through the gloom--felt her bosom swell, and her breath come painfully +in gasps, as she was made, involuntarily, a sharer of her brother's +agitation. + +"Randolph," she said, "what can be the secret, which you have kept ever +from me, your sister?" + +"I will not leave this country, in the first place, because I am of +its soil," he answered, "and because, first and last, it is no common +right, which binds me to my native land. Come, Esther, to the window, +where the light will help my words; you shall know all--" + +He led her to the window, and drew from beneath his vest, a miniature, +which he held toward the fading light. + +"Do you trace the features?" he whispered. + +"I do. It is beautifully painted, and the likeness resembles a thousand +others, that I have seen of the same man. But what has this portrait in +miniature to do with us?" + +"What has it to do with us? Regard it again, and closely, my sister. Do +you not trace a resemblance?" + +"Resemblance to whom?" Esther echoed. "Why it is the portrait of ---- +----." + +She repeated a name familiar to the civilized world. + +"It is _his_ portrait. No one can deny it. But Esther, again I ask +you,--" his voice sunk low and lower.--"Do you not trace a resemblance?" + +"Resemblance to whom?" she answered, her tone indicating bewildered +amazement. + +"To the picture of OUR MOTHER, which you have seen at Hill Royal," was +Randolph's answer. + +Utterly bewildered, Esther once more examined the miniature; and an +idea, so strange, so wild that she deemed it but the idle fancy of a +dream, began to take shape in her brain. + +"I am in the dark, I know not what you mean. True, true, the face +portrayed in miniature does, somewhat, resemble our mother's portrait, +but--" + +"That miniature, Esther, is the portrait of the Head of our Family. +That man,--" again he pronounced the name,--"was the father of our +mother. We are his grandchildren, my sister." + +Esther suffered the miniature to fall from her hand. She sank back into +a chair. + +For a few moments, there was a death-like pause, unbroken by a single +word. + +"The grandchildren of ---- ----!" echoed Esther, at length. "You +cannot mean it, Randolph?" + +Randolph bent his head until his lips well-nigh touched his sister's +ear. At the same moment he clasped her hard with a painful pressure. +The words which he then uttered were uttered in a whisper, but every +word penetrated the soul of the listener. + +"Esther, we are the grandchildren of that man whose name is on the lips +of the civilized world. Our mother was _his_ child. _His_ blood flows +in our veins. We are of _his_ race; _his_ features may be traced in +your countenance and in mine. Now let them cut and hack and maim us: +let them lash us at the whipping-post, or sell us in the slave mart. +At every blow of the lash, we can exclaim, 'Lash on! lash on! But +remember, you are inflicting this torture upon no common slaves; for +your whip at every blow is stained with the blood of ---- ----. These +slaves whom you lash are HIS grandchildren!'" + +He paused, overcome by the violence of his emotion. In a moment he +resumed: + +"And it is because I am HIS grandson, that I will not exile myself +from this land, which was HIS birthplace as it is mine. Yes, I cannot +exile myself, for the reason that my GRANDFATHER left to my hands +the fulfillment of an awful trust--of a work which, well fulfilled, +will secure the happiness of all the races who people the American +continent. I may become a suicide, but an exile,--never!" + +"But our mother, was the daughter of Colonel Rawden. So the rumor ran, +and so you stated before the Court of Ten Millions." + +"In that statement I simply followed the popular rumor, for the time +for the _entire truth_ had not yet come. But our mother was not the +child of Colonel Rawden. Her mother was indeed Rawden's slave, but not +one drop of Rawden's blood flows in our veins. Colonel Rawden was aware +of the truth; well he knew that HERODIA, whom he sold to our father, +was the child of ---- ----." + +There was a pause: and it was not broken until Esther spoke: + +"You would not like to return to Europe, then?" + +"For one reason, and one only, I would like to visit Europe." + +"And that reason?" + +"Know, Esther, that at Florence, in the course of a hurried tour +through Italy, I met a gentleman named Bernard Lynn. His native country +I never ascertained; he was near fifty years of age; gentlemanly in +his exterior, of reputed wealth, and accompanied by an only daughter, +Eleanor Lynn. At Florence,--it matters not how,--I saved his daughter's +life--ay, more than life, her honor. All his existence was wrapt up in +her; you may, therefore, imagine the extent of his gratitude to the +young American who saved the life of this idolized child." + +"Was the girl grateful, as well as the father?" + +"I remained but a week in their company, and then separated, to see +them no more forever. That week was sufficient to assure me that I +loved her better than my life,--that my passion was returned; and +could I but forget the negro blood which mingles in my veins, I might +boldly claim her as my own. Her father had but one prominent hatred: +mild and gentlemanly on all other subjects, he was ferocious at the +sight or mention of a negro. He regarded the African race as a libel +upon mankind; a link between the monkey and the man; a caricature of +the human race; the work of Nature, in one of her _unlucky_ moods. +Conscious that there was negro blood in my veins, I left him abruptly. +With this consciousness I could not press my suit for the hand of his +daughter." + +"But you would like to see her again?" + +"Could I meet her as an equal, yes! But never can I look upon her face +again. Don't you see, Esther, how at every turn of life, I am met by +the fatal whisper, 'There is _negro blood in your veins_!'" + +"She was beautiful?" + +"One of the fairest types of the Caucasian race, that ever eye beheld. +Tall in stature, her form cast in a mould of enticing loveliness, her +complexion like snow, yet blushing with roses on the lip and cheek; her +hair, brown in the sunlight, and dark in the shade; her eyes of a shade +between brown and black, and always full of the light of all-abounding +youth and hope.--Yes, she was beautiful, transcendently beautiful! She +had the intellect of an affectionate but proud and ambitious woman." + +"You saved her life?" + +"I saved her honor." + +"Her honor?" + +"So beautiful, so young, so gifted, she attracted the attention of an +Italian nobleman, who sued in vain for her hand. Foiled in his efforts +to obtain her in honorable marriage, he determined to possess her at +all hazards. One night, as herself and her father were returning to +Florence, after a visit to Valambrosa, the carriage was attacked by +a band of armed ruffians. The father was stretched insensible, by a +blow upon the temple, from the hilt of a sword. When he recovered his +senses, he was alone, and faint with the loss of blood. His daughter +had disappeared. He made out, at length, to get back to Florence, +and instituted a search for his child. His efforts were fruitless. +Suspicion rested upon the rejected lover, but he appeared before the +father, and to the father's satisfaction established his innocence. +At this period, when the father had relinquished all hope, I assumed +the disguise of a traveling student, armed myself and departed from +Florence. I bent my steps to the Apennines. A servant of the nobleman, +impelled at once by a bribe, and by revenge for ill-treatment, had +imparted certain intelligence to me; upon this information I shaped my +course. In an obscure nook of the Apennines, separated from the main +road by a wilderness frequented by banditti, I found the daughter of +Bernard Lynn. She was a prisoner in a miserable inn, which was kept by +a poor knave, in the pay of the robbers. I entered the room in which +she was imprisoned, in time to rescue her from the nobleman, who had +reached the inn before me, and who was about to carry his threats into +force. Had I been a moment later, her honor would have been sacrificed. +A combat ensued: Eleanor saw me peril my life for her; and saw the +villain laid insensible at her feet. She fainted in my arms. It matters +not to tell how I bore her back to her father, who confessed that I +had done a deed, which could never be suitably rewarded, although he +might sacrifice his fortune and his life, in the effort to display his +gratitude." + +"By what name did they know you?" + +"As Randolph Royalton, the son of a gentleman of South Carolina. From +this I am afraid the father built false impressions of my social +position and my wealth. Afraid to tell Eleanor the truth, I left them +without one word of farewell." + +At this moment, a door was opened, and the light of a wax candle, +held in the hand of a servant who occupied the doorway, flashed over +the details of the drawing-room, lighting up the scene with a sudden +splendor. The servant was a man of middle age and of a calm, sober +look. He was clad in a suit of gray, faced with black velvet. + +The light revealed the brother and sister as they stood in the center +of the scene; Esther, clad in the green habit which fitted closely +to her beautiful shape, and Randolph attired in a black coat, vest and +cravat, which presented a strong contrast to his pallid visage. + +The servant bowed formally upon the threshold, and advanced, holding a +salver of silver in one hand and the candle in the other. As soon as he +had traversed the space between Randolph and the door, he bowed again, +and extended the salver, upon which appeared a card, inscribed with a +name-- + +"Master, a gentleman desires to see you. He is in his carriage at the +door. He gave me this card for you." + +Randolph exchanged glances with Esther, as much as to say "our expected +visitor," and then took the card, and read these words: + + "_An old friend desires to see Randolph Royalton and his sister._" + +Randolph started as he beheld the handwriting, and the blood rushed to +his cheek: + +"Show the gentleman up stairs," he said quietly. + +The servant disappeared, taking with him the light, and the room was +wrapt in twilight once more. + +"Have you any idea who is this visitor?" whispered Esther. + +"Hush! Do not speak! Surrounded by mystery as we are, this new wonder +throws all others completely into shade. I can scarcely believe it; and +yet, it was _his_ handwriting! I cannot be mistaken." + +In vain did Esther ask, "Whose handwriting?" Trembling with anxiety and +delight, Randolph listened intently for the sound of footsteps on the +stairs. + +Presently there came a sound, as of footsteps ascending a stairway, +covered with thick carpet; and then the door opened and the servant +stood on the threshold, light in hand: + +"This way, sir, this way," he exclaimed, and entered: while Randolph +and Esther's gaze was centered on the doorway; the servant in gray +rapidly lighted the wax candles, which stood on the marble mantle, and +the spacious room was flooded with radiance. + +"Ah, ha, my dear boy, have I caught you at last?" cried a harsh but a +cheerful voice, and an elderly man, wrapped in a cloak, crossed the +threshold, and approached Randolph with rapid steps. + +"Mr. Lynn!" ejaculated Randolph, utterly astonished. + +"Yes, your old friend, whom you so abruptly left at Florence, without +so much as a word of good-bye! How are you, my dear fellow? Give me a +shake of your hand. Miss Royalton, I presume?" + +By no means recovered from his bewilderment, Randolph managed to +present Mr. Bernard Lynn to his sister, whom he called "Miss Esther +Royalton." + +The visitor gave his hat and cloak to the servant, and flung himself +into an arm-chair. He was a gentleman of some fifty years, dark +complexion, and with masses of snow-white hair. His somewhat portly +form was attired in a blue frock coat, beneath which the collar of a +buff waistcoat and a black stock were discernible. + +"Come, come, Randolph, my boy, let me chat with Miss Esther, while you +attend to your servant, who, if I may judge by his telegraphic signs, +has something to say to you in regard to your household affairs." + +Randolph turned and was confronted by the servant, Mr. Hicks, who bowed +low, and said in a tone which was audible through the room-- + +"At what hour will you have dinner served?" and then added in a +whisper, "_I wish to speak with you alone_." + +"At seven, as I directed you, when I first arrived," replied Randolph, +and followed the servant from the drawing-room. + +Mr. Hicks led the way, down the broad staircase, to the spacious hall +on the lower floor, which was now illuminated by a large globe lamp. + +"Pardon me, Mr. Royalton," said Mr. Hicks, "for troubling you about +the dinner hour. That, if you will excuse me for saying so, was only a +pretext. Your Agent, who arrived before you, to-day, and engaged myself +and the other domestics, gave me especial directions, to prepare dinner +to-night, at seven precisely. It was not about the hour of dinner, +therefore, that I wished to see you, for we all know our duty, and you +may rely upon it, that all the _appointments_ of this mansion, are in +good hands." + +"Right, Mr. Hicks, right, may I ask whether my Agent, who was here +to-day, wore an odd dress which he sometimes wears, a,--a--" + +"A blue surtout, with a great many capes? Yes, sir. The fashion in the +south, I presume." + +"_It was then my unknown friend of the half-way-house,_" thought +Randolph: presently, he said, "Why did you call me from the +drawing-room?" + +Mr. Hicks bowed his formal bow, and pointed to a door of dark mahogany: + +"If you will have the kindness to enter that room, you will know why I +called you." + +And Mr. Hicks bowed again, and retreated slowly from the scene. + +Placing his hand upon the door, Randolph felt his heart beat +tumultuously against his breast. + +"Yesterday, a hunted slave," the thought rushed over him, "and to-day, +the master of a mansion, and with a train of servants to obey my nod! +So, my unknown friend in the surtout, with blue capes, was here to-day, +acting the part of my 'Agent.' What new wonder awaits me, beyond this +door?" + +He opened the door, and he trembled, although he was anything but a +coward. The room into which he entered, was about half as large as the +drawing-room above. A lamp standing in the center of the carpet, shed +a soft luxurious luster over the walls, which, white as snow, were +adorned with one mirror, and three or four pictures, set in frames +of black and gold. At a glance, in one of these frames, Randolph +recognized the portrait of his father. The windows, opening on the +street, were vailed with damask curtains. A piano stood in one corner, +a sofa opposite, and elegant chairs of dark wood, were disposed around +the room. It was at once a neat, singular, and somewhat luxurious +apartment. + +And on the sofa, was seated the figure of a woman, closely vailed. Her +dark attire was in strong contrast with the scarlet cushions on which +she rested, and the snow-white wall behind her. + +Randolph stopped suddenly; he was stricken dumb, by a sensation of +utter bewilderment. The unknown did not remove the vail from her face; +she did not even move. + +"You wish to see me, Madam?" he said, at length. + +She drew the vail aside--he beheld her face,--and the next moment she +had bounded from the sofa and was resting in his arms. + +"Eleanor!" he cried, as the vail removed, he beheld her face. + +"Randolph!" she exclaimed, as he pressed her to his breast. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +ELEANOR LYNN. + + +In a few moments they were seated side by side on the sofa, and while +she spoke, in a low musical voice, Randolph devoured her with his eyes. + +"We arrived from Europe, only the day before yesterday. Father +determined to visit New York, on our way to Havana, where we intend +to spend the winter. And to-day, by a strange chance at our hotel, +he encountered your Agent--the superintendent of your southern +plantation,--an eccentric person, who wears an old-fashioned surtout, +with I know not how many capes. From this gentleman, father learned +that you had just arrived from the south, and at once determined to +give you a surprise. We came together, but to tell you the truth, I +wanted to see you alone, and, therefore, lingered behind, while father +went up stairs to prepare you for my presence." + +She smiled, and Randolph, like a man in a delicious dream, feared to +move or speak, lest the vision which he beheld might vanish into the +air. + +Words are but poor things, with which to paint a beautiful woman. + +There was youth and health in every line of her face: her form, incased +in a dark dress, which enveloped her bust and fitted around her neck, +was moulded in the warm loveliness of womanhood, at once mature and +virgin. Her bonnet thrown aside, her face was disclosed in full light. +A brow, denoting by its outline, a bold, yet refined intellect; an +eye, large, lustrous, and looking black by night; a lip that had as +much of pride as of love in its expression--such were the prominent +characteristics of her face. + +"Why did you leave us so abruptly at Florence?" she exclaimed,--"Ah, I +know the secret--" + +"You know the secret?" echoed Randolph, his heart mounting to his +throat. + +"One of your friends in Florence--a young artist named Waters, betrayed +you," she said, and laid her gloved hand on his arm, a sunny smile +playing over her noble countenance. "At least after your departure he +told your secrets to father." + +Randolph started from the sofa, as though a chasm had opened at his +feet. + +"He betrayed me--he! And yet you do not scorn me?" + +"Scorn you? Grave matter to create scorn! You have a quarrel with +your father, and leave home on a run-a-way tour for Europe. There, in +Europe,--we will say at Florence--you make friends, and run away from +them, because you are afraid they will think less of you, when they are +aware that your father _may_ disinherit you. Fie! Randolph, 'twas a +sorry thing, for you to think so meanly of your friends!" + +These words filled Randolph with overwhelming agony. + +When she first spoke, he was assured that the _secret of his life_, +was known to her. He was aghast at the thought, but at the same time, +overjoyed to know, that the _taint_ of his blood, was not regarded by +Eleanor as a crime. + +But her concluding words revealed the truth. She was not aware of +the fact. She was utterly mistaken, as to his motive, for his abrupt +departure from Florence. Instead of the real cause, she assigned one +which was comparatively frivolous. + +"Shall I tell her all?" the thought crossed his mind, as he gazed upon +her, and he shuddered at the idea. + +"And so you thought that our opinion of you, was measured by your +wealth, or by your want of wealth? For shame Randolph! You are now +the sole heir of your father, but were it otherwise, Randolph, our +friendship for you would remain unchanged." + +"The sole heir of my father's estate!" Randolph muttered to +himself,--"I dare not, dare not, tell her the real truth." + +But the fascination of that woman's loveliness was upon him. The sound +of her voice vibrated through every fiber of his being. When he gazed +into her eyes, he forgot the darkness of his destiny, the taint of his +blood, the gloom of his heart, and the hopes and fears of his future. +He lived in the present moment, in the smile, the voice, the glance +of the woman who sat by him,--her presence was world, home, heaven to +him--all else was blank nothingness. + +"Don't you think that I'm a very strange woman?" she said with a smile, +and a look of undefinable fascination. "Remember, from my childhood, +Randolph, I have been deprived of the care and counsel of a mother. +Without country and without home, I have been hurried with my father +from place to place, and seen much of the world, and may be learned +to battle with it. I am not much of a 'woman of society,' Randolph. +The artificial life led by woman in that conventional world, called +the 'fashionable,' never had much charm for me. My books, my pencil, +the society of a friend, the excitement of a journey, the freedom +to-speak my thoughts without fear of the world's frown,--these, +Randolph, suit me much better than the life of woman, as she appears +in the fashionable world. And whenever I transgress the 'decorums' and +'proprieties,' you will be pleased to remember that I am but a sort of +a wild woman--a very barbarian in the midst of a civilized world." + +Randolph did not say that she was an angel, but he thought that she was +very beautiful for a wild woman. + +She rose. + +"Come, let us join father," she said,--"and I am dying to see this +sister of yours, friend Randolph." + +Taking her bonnet in one hand, she left her cloak on the sofa, and +led the way to the door. At a glance Randolph surveyed her tall and +magnificent figure. As leaving him, silent and bewildered, on the +sofa, she turned her face over her shoulder, and looked back upon him, +Randolph muttered to himself the thought of his soul, in one word, +"negro!" So much beauty, purity and truth before him, embodied in a +woman's form, and between that woman and himself an eternal barrier! +The blood of an accursed race in his veins, the mark of bondage stamped +upon the inmost fiber of his existence--it was a bitter thought. "You +are absent, Randolph," she said, and came back to him, "shall I guess +your thoughts?" She laid her hand upon his shoulder, and bent down +until he felt her breath upon his forehead. + +"You are thinking of the _night in the Apennines_?" she whispered. +Randolph uttered an incoherent cry of rapture, and reached forth his +arms, and drew her to his breast.--Their lips met--"You have not +forgotten it?" he whispered. + +She drew back her head as she was girdled by his arms, in order to gaze +more freely upon his face. Blushing from the throat to the forehead, +not with shame, but with a passion as warm and as pure as ever lighted +a woman's bosom, she answered in a whisper: + +"Randolph, I love you!" + +"Love me! Ah, my God, could I but hope," he gasped. + +She laid her hand upon his mouth. + +"Hush, I am my father's child. We happen to think alike on subjects of +importance. If you have not changed since the night in the Apennines, +why--why, then Randolph, you will find that I am the same. As for my +father, he always loved you." + +When a woman like Eleanor Lynn gives herself away, thus freely and +without reserve, you may be sure that the passion which she cherishes +is not of an hour, a day, or a year, but of a lifetime. + +Randolph could not reply in coherent words. There was a wild +ejaculation, a frenzied embrace, a kiss which joined together these +souls, burning with the fire of a first and stainless love, but there +was no reply in words. + +And all the while, behind the form of Eleanor, Randolph saw a phantom +shape, which stood between him and his dearest hope. A hideous phantom, +which said, "Thou art young, and thy face is pale as the palest of the +race who are born to rule, but the blood of the negro is in thy veins." + +At length Randolph rose, and taking her by the hand, led her from the +room. + +"You will see my sister, and love her," said Randolph, as he crossed +the threshold. A hand was laid gently on his arm, and turning he beheld +Mr. Hicks, who slipped a letter in his hand, whispering,-- + +"Pardon me, sir. This was left half an hour ago." + +Randolph had no time to read a letter at that moment, so placing +it in his coat pocket, he led Eleanor up-stairs. They entered the +drawing-room, and were received by her father with a laugh, and the +exclamation,-- + +"So, my boy, you have found this wild girl of mine a _second_ time! +Confess that we have given you one of the oddest surprises you ever +encountered!" + +Presently Esther and Eleanor stood face to face, and took each other by +the hand.--Both noble-looking women, of contrasted types of loveliness, +they stood before the father and Randolph, who gazed upon them with a +look of silent admiration. + +"So, you are Esther!" whispered the daughter of Bernard Lynn. + +"And you are Eleanor!" returned the sister of Randolph. + +"We shall love each other very much," said Eleanor,--"Come, let us talk +a little." + +They went hand in hand to a recess near the window, and sat down +together, leaving Randolph and Mr. Lynn alone, near the center of the +drawing-room. + +"Do you know, my boy, that I have a notion to make your house our +home, while we remain in New York? I hate the noise of a hotel, and +so using a traveler's privilege, of bluntness, I'll invite myself and +Eleanor to be your guests. I have letters to the 'first people' of the +city, but these 'first people,' as they are called, are pretty much +the same everywhere--cut out of the same piece of cloth, all over the +world--they tire one dreadfully. If you have no objection, my friend, +we'll stay with you for a few days at least." + +"Of course," Randolph replied to Mr. Lynn in the warmest and most +courteous manner, concluding with the words, "Esther and myself will be +too happy to have you for our guests. Make our house your home while +you remain in New York, and--" he was about to add "forever!" + +Mr. Lynn took him warmly by the hand. + +"And in a few days, he _must_ learn that I am not the legitimate son +of my father, but his _slave_," the thought crossed him as he shook +the hand of Eleanor's father. "This Aladdin's palace will crumble +into ashes, and this gentleman who now respects me, will turn away in +derision from Randolph, the slave." + +It was a horrible thought. + +At this moment Mr. Hicks entered, and announced that dinner was ready. +They left the room, Randolph with Eleanor on his arm, and Mr. Lynn with +Esther, and bent their steps toward the dining-room. On the threshold +Mr. Hicks slipped a letter in the hand of Esther, "It was left for you, +Miss, half an hour ago," he said, and made one of his mechanical bows. +Esther took the letter and placed it in her bosom, and Mr. Hicks threw +open the door of the dining-room. + +Randolph could scarce repress an ejaculation of wonder, as (for the +first time) he beheld this apartment. + +It was a spacious room, oval in shape, and with a lofty ceiling, which +was slightly arched. The walls were covered with pale lilac hangings, +and fine statues of white marble stood at equal distances around the +place. In the center stood the table, loaded with viands, and adorned +with an alabaster vase, filled with freshly-gathered flowers.--Wax +candles shed a mild light over the scene, and the air was imbued +at once with a pleasant warmth and with the breath of flowers. The +service of plate which loaded the table was of massive gold. Everything +breathed luxury and wealth. + +"You planters know how to live!" whispered Bernard Lynn: "By George, +friend Randolph, you are something of a republican, but it is after the +Roman school!" + +In accordance with Randolph's request, Mr. Lynn took the head of the +table, with Esther and Eleanor on either hand. Randolph took his seat +opposite the father of Eleanor, and gazed around with a look of vague +astonishment. A servant clad in gray livery, fringed with black velvet, +stood behind each chair, and Mr. Hicks, the imperturbable, retired +somewhat in the background, presided in silence over the progress of +the banquet. + +"We are not exactly dressed for dinner," laughed Mr. Lynn,--"but you +will excuse our breach of that most solemn code, profounder than +Blackstone or Vattel, and called _Etiquette_." + +Randolph gazed first at his dark hair, which betrayed some of the +traces of hazel, and at the costume of Esther, which although it +displayed her form to the best advantage, was not precisely suited for +the dinner-table. + +"Ah, we southrons care little for etiquette," he replied,--"only to-day +arrived from the south, Esther and I have had little time to attend to +the niceties of costume. By-the-bye, friend Lynn, yourself and daughter +are in the same predicament." And then he muttered to himself, "Still +the dress is better than the costume of a negro slave." + +The dinner passed pleasantly, with but little conversation, and that +of a light and chatty character. The servants, stationed behind each +chair, obeyed the wishes of the guests before they were framed in +words; and Mr. Hicks in the background, managed their movements by +signs, somewhat after the fashion of an orchestra leader. It was near +eight o'clock when Esther and Eleanor retired, leaving Randolph and Mr. +Lynn alone at the table. + +"Dismiss these folks," said Bernard Lynn, pointing toward Mr. Hicks and +the other servants, "and let us have a chat together." At a sign from +Randolph, Mr. Hicks and the servants left the room. + +"Draw your chair near me,--there,--let us look into each other's +faces. By George! friend Randolph, your wine cellar must be worthy of +a prince or a bishop! I have just sipped your Tokay, and tasted your +Champagne,--both are superb. But as I am a traveler, I drink brandy. So +pass the bottle." + +As Mr. Lynn, seated at his ease, filled a capacious goblet with brandy +from a bottle labeled "1796," Randolph surveyed attentively his face +and form. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +BERNARD LYNN. + + +Bernard Lynn was a tall and muscular man, somewhat inclined to +corpulence. His dark complexion was contrasted with the masses of +snow-white hair, which surrounded his forehead, and the eyebrows, also +white, which gave additional luster to his dark eyes. His features were +regular, and there were deep furrows upon his forehead and around his +mouth. Despite the good-humored smile which played about his lips, and +the cheerful light which flowed from his eyes, there was at times, a +haggard look upon his face. One moment all cheerfulness and animation, +the next instant his face would wear a faded look; the corners of his +mouth would fall; and his eye become vacant and lusterless. + +He emptied the goblet of brandy without once taking it from his lips, +and the effect was directly seen in his glowing countenance and +sparkling eyes. + +"Ah! that is good brandy," he cried, smacking his lips, and sinking +back in his chair. "You think I am a deep drinker?" he remarked, after +a moment's pause.--"Do not wonder at it. There are times in a man's +life when he is forced to choose between the brandy bottle and the +knife of the suicide." + +At the word, his head sunk and his countenance became clouded and +sullen. + +Before Randolph could reply, he raised his head and exclaimed gayly: + +"Do you know, my boy, that I have been a great traveler? Three times I +have encircled the globe. I have seen most of what is to be seen under +the canopy of heaven. I have been near freezing to death in Greenland, +and have been burned almost to a cinder by the broiling sun of India. +To-day, in the saloons of Paris; a month after in the midst of an +Arabian desert; and the third month, a wanderer among the ruins of +ancient Mexico and Yucatan. I have tried all climates, lived with all +sorts of people, and seen sights that would make the Arabian Nights +seem but poor and tame by contrast. And now, my boy, I'm tired." + +And the wan, haggard look came over his face, as he uttered the word +"_tired_." + +"Your daughter has not accompanied you in these pilgrimages?" + +"No. From childhood she was left under careful guardianship, in the +bosom of an English family, who lived in Florence. Poor child! I have +often wondered what she has thought of me! To-day I have been with +her in Florence, and within two months she has received a letter from +me, from the opposite side of the globe. But as I said before, I am +_tired_. Were it not for one thing I would like to settle down in your +country. A fine country,--a glorious country,--only one fault, and that +very likely will eat you all up." + +"Before I ask the nature of the fault, pardon me for an impertinent +question. Of what country are you? You speak of the English as a +foreign people; of the Americans in the same manner; yet you speak the +language without the slightest accent." + +The countenance of Mr. Lynn became clouded and sullen. + +"I am of no country," he said harshly. "I ceased to have a country, +about the time Eleanor was born. But another time," his tone became +milder, "I may tell you all about it." + +"And the fault of our country?" said Randolph, anxious to divert the +thoughts of his friend from some painful memory, which evidently +absorbed his mind, "what is it?" + +Mr. Lynn once more filled and slowly drained his goblet. + +"You are the last person to whom I may speak of this fault,--" + +"How so?" + +"You are a planter. You have been reared under peculiar influences. +Your mind from childhood has been imperceptibly moulded into a +certain form, and that form it is impossible to change. You cannot +see, as I can; for I am a spectator, and you are in the center of the +conflagration, which I observe from a distance. No, no, Randolph, +I can't speak of it to you. But you planters will be wakened some +day--you will. God help you in your awakening--hem!" + +Randolph's face became pale as death. + +"You speak, my friend, of the question of negro slavery. You surely +don't consider it an evil. You--you--_hate_ the very mention of the +race." + +Shading his eyes with his uplifted hand, Bernard Lynn said, with slow +and measured distinctness: + +"Do I hate the race? Yes, if you could read my heart, you would find +hatred to the African race written on its every fiber. The very name +of negro fills me with loathing." He uttered an oath, and continued in +a lower tone: "By what horrible fatality was that accursed race ever +planted upon the soil of the New World!" + +Randolph felt his blood boil in his veins; his face was flashed; he +breathed in gasps. + +"And then it is not sympathy for the negro, that makes you look with +aversion upon the institution of American slavery?" + +"Sympathy for a libel upon the race--a hybrid composed of the monkey +and the man? The idea is laughable. Were the negro in Africa--his own +country--I might tolerate him. But his presence in any shape, as a +dweller among people of the white race, is a curse to that race, more +horrible than the plagues of Egypt or the fires of Gomorrah." + +"It is, then, the _influence of negro slavery upon the white race_, +which concerns you?" faltered Randolph. + +"_It is the influence of negro slavery upon the white race_ which +concerns me," echoed Lynn, with bitter emphasis: "But you are a +planter. I cannot talk to you. To mention the subject to one of you, is +to set you in a blaze. By George! how the devils must laugh when they +see us poor mortals, so eager in the pursuit of our own ruin,--so merry +as we play with hot coals in the midst of a powder magazine!" + +"You may speak to me upon this subject," said Randolph, drawing a long +breath, "and speak freely." + +"It won't do. You are all blind. There, for instance, is the greatest +man among you; his picture hangs at your back--" + +Randolph turned and beheld, for the first time, a portrait which hung +against the wall behind. It was a sad, stern face, with snow-white +hair, and a look of intellect, moulded by an iron Destiny. It was the +likeness of JOHN C. CALHOUN,--Calhoun, the John Calvin of Political +Economy. + +"I knew him when he was a young man," continued Lynn, "I have met and +conversed with him. Mind, I do not say that we were _intimate friends_! +A braver man, a truer heart, a finer intellect, never lived beneath +the sun. _Then_ he felt the evils of this horrible system, and felt +that the only remedy, was the removal of the entire race to Africa. +Yes, he felt that the black man could only exist beside the white, +to the utter degradation of the latter. _Now_, ha! ha! he has grown +into the belief, that Slavery,--in other words, _the presence of the +black race in the midst of the white_,--is a blessing. To that belief +he surrenders everything, intellect, heart, soul, the hope of power, +and the approbation of posterity. When Calhoun is blind, how can you +planters be expected to see?" + +Randolph was silent. "There is in my veins, the blood of this accused +race," he muttered to himself. + +"In order to look up some of the results of this system," continued +Bernard Lynn, "let us look at some of the characteristics of the +American people. The north is a trader; it traffics; it buys; it sells; +it meets every question with the words, '_Will it pay?_' (As a gallant +southron once said to me; 'When the north choose a patron saint, a new +name will be added to the calendar, "SAINT PICAYUNE"'). The South is +frank, generous, hospitable; there are the virtues of ideal chivalry +among the southern people. And yet, the north prospers in every sense, +while the south,--_what is the future of the South?_ The west, noble, +generous, and free from the traits which mark a nation of mere +traffickers, _is just what the south would be, were it_ FREE FROM THE +BLACK RACE. Think of that, friend Randolph! You may glean a bit of +solid truth from the disconnected remarks of an old traveler." + +"But you have not yet instanced a single evil of our institution," +interrupted Randolph. + +"Are you from the south, and yet, ask me to give you instances of the +evils of slavery? Pshaw! I tell you man, the evil of slavery consists +in the presence of the black race in the midst of the whites. That is +the sum of the matter. You cannot elevate that race save at the expense +of the whites--not the expense of money, mark you,--but at the expense +of the physical and mental features of the white race. Don't I speak +plain enough? The two races cannot live together and _not_ mingle. You +know it to be impossible. And do you pretend to say, that the mixture +of black and white, can produce anything but an accursed progeny, +destitute of the good qualities of each race, and by their very origin, +at war with both African and Caucasian? Nay, you need not hold your +head in your hands. It is blunt truth, but it is truth." + +The bolt had struck home. Randolph had buried his face in his +hands,--"I am one of these hybrids," he muttered in agony; "at war at +the same time, with the race of my father and my mother." + +"But, how would you remedy this evil?" he asked, without raising his +head. + +"Remove the whole race to Africa," responded Lynn. + +"How can this be done?" + +"By one effort of southern will. Instead of attempting to defend the +system, let the southern people resolve at once, that the _presence of +the black race_, is the greatest curse that can befall America. This +resolution made, the means will soon follow. One-fourth the expenses of +a five years' war would transport the negroes to Africa. One-twentieth +part of the sum, which will be expended in the next ten years (I say +nothing of the past) in the quarrel of north and south, about this +matter, would do the work and do it well. And then, _free from the +black race_, the south would go to work and mount to her destiny." + +"But, what will become of the race, when they are transported to +Africa?" + +"If they are really of the human family, they will show it, by the +civilization of Africa. They will establish a Nationality for the +Negro, and plant the arts on seashore and desert. Apart from the white +race, they can rise into their destiny." + +"And if nothing is done?" interrupted Randolph. + +"If the south continues to defend, and the north to quarrel about +slavery,--if instead of making one earnest effort to do something with +the evil, they break down national good-feeling, and waste millions of +money in mutual threats,--why, in that case, it needs no prophet to +foretell the future of the south. That future will realize one of two +conditions--" + +He paused, and after a moment, repeated with singular emphasis, "_St. +Domingo!--St. Domingo!_" + +"And the other condition," said Randolph. + +"The whole race will be stript of all its noble qualities, and +swallowed up in a race, composed of black and white, and cursing the +very earth they tread. In the south, the white race will in time be +_annihilated_. That garden of the world, composed, I know not of how +many states,--extending from the middle states to the gulf, and from +the Atlantic to the Mississippi,--will repeat on a colossal scale, the +horrible farce, which the world has seen, in the case of St. Domingo." + +Bernard Lynn again filled his goblet, and slowly sipped the brandy, +while the fire faded from his eyes, the corners of his mouth fell,--his +face became faded and haggard again. + +Randolph, seated near him, his elbow on his knee, and his forehead +supported by his hand, was buried in thought. His face was averted from +the light: the varied emotions which convulsed it in every lineament, +were concealed from the observation of Bernard Lynn. + +Thus they remained for a long time, each buried in his own peculiar +thoughts. + +"Randolph," said Bernard Lynn,--and there was something so changed and +singular in his tone, that Randolph started--"draw near to me. I wish +to speak with you." + +Randolph looked up, and was astonished by the change which had passed +over the face of the traveler. His eyes flashed wildly, his features +were one moment fixed and rigid and the next, tremulous and quivering +with strong emotion; the veins were swollen on his broad forehead. + +"Randolph," he said, in a low, agitated voice, "I am a Carolinian." + +"A Carolinian?" echoed Randolph. + +"The name of Bernard Lynn is not my real name. It is an assumed name, +Randolph. Assumed, do you hear me?" his eyes flashed more wildly, and +he seized Randolph's hand, and unconsciously wrung it with an almost +frenzied clutch--"Assumed some seventeen years ago, when I forsook my +home, my native soil, and became a miserable wanderer on the face of +the earth. Do you know why I assumed that name,--do you know?--" + +He paused as if suffocated by his emotions. After a moment he resumed +in a lower, deeper voice,-- + +"Did you ever hear the name of ---- ----?" + +"It is the name of one of the first and oldest families of Carolina," +responded Randolph. "A name renowned in her history, but now extinct, I +believe." + +"That is my name, my real name, which I have forsaken forever, for +the one which I now bear," resumed Bernard Lynn. "I am the last male +representative of the family. Seventeen years ago my name disappeared +from Carolina. I left home--my native land--all the associations that +make life dear, and became a miserable exile. And why?" + +He uttered an oath, which came sharp and hissing through his clenched +teeth. + +Profoundly interested, Randolph, as if fascinated, gazed silently into +the flashing eyes of Bernard Lynn. + +"I was young,--rich,--the inheritor of an honored name," continued +Bernard Lynn, in hurried tones,--"and I was married, Randolph, married +to a woman of whom Eleanor is the living picture,--a woman as noble in +soul, and beautiful in form as ever trod God's earth. One year after +our marriage, when Eleanor was a babe,--nearer to me, Randolph,--I left +my plantation in the evening, and went on a short visit to Charleston. +I came home the next day, and where I had left my wife living and +beautiful, I found only a mangled and dishonored corpse." + +His head fell upon his breast,--he could not proceed. + +"This is too horrible!" ejaculated Randolph,--"too horrible to be real." + +Bernard raised his head, and clutching Randolph's hands-- + +"The sun was setting, and his beams shone warmly through the western +windows as I entered the bedchamber. Oh! I can see it yet,--I can see +it now,--the babe sleeping on the bed, while the mother is stretched +upon the floor, lifeless and weltering in her blood. Murdered and +dishonored--murdered and dishonored--" + +As though those words, "murdered and dishonored," had choked his +utterance, he paused, and uttered a groan, and once more his head fell +on his breast. + +At this moment, even as Randolph, absorbed by the revelation, sits +silent and pale, gazing upon the bended head of the old man,--at this +moment look yonder, and behold the form of a woman, who with finger on +her lip, stands motionless near the threshold. + +Randolph is not aware of her presence--the old man cannot see her, for +there is agony like death in his heart, and his head is bowed upon his +breast; but there she stands, motionless as though stricken into stone, +by the broken words which she has heard. + +It is Eleanor Lynn. + +On the very threshold she was arrested by the deep tones of her +father's voice,--she listened,--and for the first time heard the story +of her mother's death. + +And now, stepping backward, her eye riveted on her father's form, she +seeks to leave the room unobserved,--she reaches the threshold, when +her father's voice is heard once more:-- + +"Ask me not for details, ask me not," he cried in broken tones, as once +more he raised his convulsed countenance to the light "The author of +this outrage was not a man, but a negro,--a demon in a demon's shape; +and"--he smiled, but there was no merriment in his smile,--"and now you +know why I left home, native land, all the associations which make life +dear, seventeen years ago. Now you know why I hate the accursed race." + +As he spoke, Eleanor Lynn glided from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"YES, YOU WILL MEET HIM." + + +As midnight drew near, Randolph was alone in his bedchamber,--a +spacious chamber, magnificently furnished, and illumined by a single +candle, which stood upon a rosewood table near the lofty bed. Seated +in a chair, with his cloak thrown over his shoulders, and an opened +letter in his hand, Randolph's eyes were glassy with profound thought. +His face was very pale; a slight trembling of the lip, an occasional +heaving of the chest, alone made him appear less motionless than a +statue. + +The letter which he held was the one which Mr. Hicks had given him, +some three hours before, but he did not seem to be occupied with its +contents. + +"It look like a bridal chamber," he muttered, as his eye roved round +the spacious apartment, "and this white couch like a bridal bed,"--a +bitter smile crossed his face. "Think of it--the bridal bed of Eleanor +Lynn and--the white slave!" + +And he relapsed into his reverie; or rather, into a train of thought, +which had occupied him for two hours at least, while he sat silent and +motionless in his chamber. + +Oh, dark and bitter thoughts--filling every vein with fire, and +swelling every avenue of the brain with the hot pulsations of madness! +The image of Eleanor, the story told two hours ago by Bernard Lynn, +and the taint that corrupted the life-blood in his veins,--all these +mingled in his thoughts, and almost drove him mad. + +"And from this labyrinth, what way of escape? Will Eleanor be mine, +when she learns that I am of the accursed race of the wretch who first +dishonored and then outraged her mother? And the father,--ah!" + +He passed his hand over his brow, as if to banish these thoughts, and +then perused the letter which he held in his hand,-- + +"It is signed by my 'unknown friend of the half-way house,' and desires +me, for certain reasons, to be at a particular locality, in the Five +Points, at ten minutes past twelve. It is now,"--he took his gold watch +from his pocket,--"half past eleven. I must be moving. A singular +request, and a mysterious letter; but I will obey." + +On the table lay a leather belt, in which were inserted two +bowie-knives and a revolving pistol. Randolph wound it about his waist, +and then drew a cap over his brow, and gathered his cloak more closely +to his form. + +He next extinguished the candle, and stole softly from the room. As +he descended the stairway, all was still throughout the mansion. The +servants had retired, and Eleanor, Esther, and the old man, no doubt, +were sound asleep. Randolph passed along the hall, and opening the +front door, crossed its threshold. + +"Now for the adventure," he ejaculated, and hurried down Broadway. +After nearly half an hour's walk, he turned into one of those streets +which lead from the light and uproar of Broadway, toward the region +of the Tombs. + +Darkness was upon the narrow street, and his footsteps alone broke the +dead stillness, as he hurried along. + +As he reached a solitary lamp, which gave light to a portion of the +street, his ear caught the echo of footsteps behind: and impelled by +an impulse which he could not himself comprehend, Randolph paused, +and concealed his form in the shadow of a deep doorway. From where he +stood, by the light of the lamp, (which was not five paces distant,) he +could command a view of any wayfarer who might chance to pass along the +deserted street. + +The footsteps drew nearer, and presently two persons came in sight. +They halted beneath the lamp. Randolph could not see their faces, but +he remarked that one was short and thick-set in form, while the other +was tall and commanding. The tall one wore a cloak, and the other an +overcoat. + +And Randolph heard their voices-- + +"Are we near the hound? My back hurts like the devil, and I don't wish +to go any farther than is necessary." + +"Only a block or two, to go," replied the other. "Judas Iscariot! Just +think that we're sure to find _him_ there, Royalton, and your back +won't hurt a bit." + +"Oh, by ----! let me but find _him_, and stand face to face with _him_, +and I'll take care of the rest." + +These words, accompanied by an oath, and uttered with the emphasis of a +mortal hatred, were all that Randolph heard. + +The twain proceeded on their way. + +It was not until the sound of their footsteps had died away, that +Randolph emerged from his hiding-place-- + +"Yes, you will meet _him_, and stand face to face with _him_, and--the +rest is yet to be known." + +He felt for his knives and pistols,--they were safe in the belt about +his waist; and then, conscious that the crisis of his fate was near at +hand, he silently pursued his way. + +Return for a moment to the house in Broadway. + +Esther is there, alone in her chamber, standing before a mirror, with +a light in her hand. The mirror reaches from the ceiling to the floor; +and never did mirror image forth before, a face and form so perfectly +beautiful. + +She has changed her attire. The green habit no longer incloses her +form. A dress or robe of spotless white, leaves her neck and shoulders +bare, rests in easy folds upon her proud bust, and is girdled gently +to her waist by a sash of bright scarlet. The sleeves are wide, the +folds loose and flowing, and the sleeves and the hem of the skirt are +bordered by a line of crimson. The only ornament which she wears is not +a diamond, brooch or bracelet, not even a ring upon her delicate hand, +but a single lily, freshly gathered, which gleams pure and white from +the blackness of her hair. + +And what need she of ornament? A very beautiful woman, with a noble +form, a voluptuous bust; a face pale as marble, ripening into vivid +bloom on the lip and cheek, relieved by jet-black hair, and illumined +by eyes that, flashing from their deep fringes, burn with wild, with +maddening light. A very beautiful woman, who, as she surveys herself +in the mirror, knows that she is beautiful, and feels her pulse swell, +her bosom heave slowly into light, her blood bound with the fullness of +life in every vein. + +One hand holds the light above her dark hair--the other the letter +which, three hours and more ago, she received from Mr. Hicks. + +"It requested me to attire myself in the dress which I would find in my +chamber, the costume of Lucretia Borgia. And I have obeyed. And then to +enter the carriage, which at a quarter past twelve, will await me at +the next corner, and bear me to _the Temple_. I will obey." + +She smiled--a smile that disclosed the ivory of her teeth, the ripeness +of her lips--lit up her eyes with new light, and was responded to by +the swell of her proud bosom. + +Take care Esther! You wear the dress of Lucretia Borgia, and you are +even more madly beautiful than that accursed child of the Demon-Pope; +but have a care. You are yet spotless and pure. But the blood is warm +in your veins, and perchance there is ambition as well as passion in +the fire which burns in your eyes. Have a care! The future is yet to +come, Esther, and who can tell what it will bring forth for you? + +"I will meet Godlike there," she said, and an inexplicable smile +animated her face. + +She placed a small poniard in the folds of her sash, and threw a heavy +cloak, to which was attached a hood, over her form. She drew the hood +over her face, and stood ready to depart. + +The light was extinguished. She glided from the room, and down the +stairs, and passed unobserved from the silent house. At the corner of +the next street the carriage waited with the driver on the box. + +"Who are you?" she said in a low voice. + +"The Temple," answered the driver, and descended from the box, and +opened the carriage door. + +Esther entered, the door was closed, the carriage whirled away. + +"What will be the result of the adventures of this night?" she thought, +and her bosom heaved with mad agitation. + +And as she was thus borne to the Temple, there was a woman watching +by the bedside of an old man, in one of the chambers of the Broadway +mansion,--Eleanor watching while her father slept. + +Her night-dress hung in loose folds about her noble form, as she arose +and held the dim light nearer to his gray hairs. There was agony +stamped upon his face, even as he slept--an agony which was reflected +in the pallid face and tremulous lips of his daughter. + +"He sleeps!" she exclaimed in a low voice: "Little does he fancy that +I know the fearful history which this night fell from his lips. And +this night, before he retired to rest, he clasped me to his bosom, +and said--" she blushed in neck and cheek and brow,--"that it was the +dearest wish of his heart, that I should be united to Randolph." + +She kissed him gently on the brow, and crept noiselessly to her own +room, and soon was asleep, the image of Randolph prominent in her +dreams. + +Poor Eleanor! + +Leaving Randolph, his sister, and those connected with their fate, our +history now turns to other characters. + +Let us enter the house of the merchant prince. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN THE HOUSE OF THE MERCHANT PRINCE. + + +It was near eleven o'clock, on the night of December 23d, 1844, when +Evelyn Somers, Sen., sitting in his library by the light of the shaded +candle, was startled by the ringing of the bell. + +"The front door-bell!" he ejaculated, looking up from his labors, until +the candle shone full upon his thin features and low forehead. "Can +it be Evelyn? Oh! I forgot. He returned only this evening. One of the +servants, I suppose--been out late--must look to this in the morning." + +He resumed his pen, and again, surrounded by title-deeds and mortgages, +bent down to his labors. + +So deeply was he absorbed that he did not hear the opening of the front +door, followed by a footstep in the hall. Nor did he hear the stealthy +opening of the door of the library; much less did he see the burly +figure which advanced on tiptoe to his table. + +"Be calm!" said a gruff voice, and a hand was laid on his shoulder. + +"Hey! What? Who,--who--are--you?" The merchant prince started in his +chair, and beheld a burly form enveloped in a bear-skin overcoat and +full-moon face, spotted with carbuncles. + +"Be calm!" said the owner of the face, in a hoarse voice. "There's no +occasion to alarm yourself. These things will happen." + +The merchant prince was thoroughly amazed. + +Opening his small eyes, half concealed by heavy lids, to their fullest +extent, he cried: "What do you mean? Who are you?--I don't know you? +What--what--" + +"I'm Blossom, I am," returned the full-moon face, "_Lay low! Keep +dark!_ I'm Blossom, one of the _secret police_. Lay low!" + +"My God! Is Evelyn in another scrape?" ejaculated the merchant prince; +"I will pay for no more of his misdeeds. There's no use of talking +about it. I'll not go his bail, if he rots in the Tombs. I'll--" Mr. +Somers doggedly folded his arms, and sat bolt upright in his chair. + +With his contracted features, spare form and formal white cravat, he +looked the very picture of an unrelenting father. + +"Come, hoss, there's no use of that." + +"Hoss! Do you apply such words to me," indignantly echoed the merchant +prince. + +"Be calm," soothingly remarked Blossom. "Lay low. Keep dark. Jist +answer me one question: Has your son Evelyn a _soot_ o' rooms in the +upper part o' this house?" + +"What do you ask such a question for?" and Mr. Somers opened his eyes +again. "He has all the rooms on the third floor, in the body of the +mansion--there are four in all." + +"Very good. Now, is Evelyn at home?" asked Blossom. + +"Don't come so near. The smell of brandy is offensive to me. Faugh!" + +"You'll smell brimstone, if you don't take keer!" exclaimed the +indignant Blossom. "To think o' sich ingratitude from an old cock like +you, when I've come to keep that throat o' yourn from bein' cut by +robbers." + +"Robbers!" and this time Mr. Somers fairly started from his seat. + +"When I've come to purtect your _jugular_,--yes, you needn't +wink,--your _jugular!_ Oh, it was not for nothing that a Roman consul +once remarked that republics is ungrateful." + +"Robbers? Robbers! What d'ye mean? Speak--speak--" + +Blossom laid his hand upon the merchant's shoulder. + +"If you'll promise to keep a secret, and not make a fuss. I'll tell you +all. If you go for raisin' a hellabaloo, I'll walk out and leave your +jugular to take care of itself." + +"I promise, I promise," ejaculated the merchant. + +"Then, while you are sittin' in that ere identical chair, there's +two crackmen--burglars, you know,--hid up-stairs in your son's room. +They're a-waitin' until you put out the lights, and go to sleep, and +then,--your cash-box and jugulars the word?--Why, I wouldn't insure +your throat for all your fortin." + +The merchant prince was seized with a fit of trembling. + +"Robbers! in my house! Astounding, a-s-t-o-u-n-d-i-n-g! How did they +get in?" + +"By your son's night-key, and the front door. You see I was arter these +crackmen to-night, and found 'em in a garret of the Yaller Mug. You +never patronize the Yaller Mug, do you?" + +Mr. Somers nodded "No," with a spasmodic shake of the head. + +"Jist afore I pitched into 'em, I listened outside of the garret door, +and overheard their plot to conceal themselves in Evelyn's room, until +you'd all gone to bed, and then commence operations on your cash-box +and jugular. One o' 'em's a convict o' eleven years' standin'. He's +been regularly initiated into all the honors of Auburn and Cherry Hill." + +"And you arrested them?" + +"Do you see this coverlet about my head? That's what I got for +attemptin' it. They escaped from the garret, by getting upon the roof, +and jumpin' down on a shed. If my calculations are correct, they're +up-stairs jist now, preparin' for their campaign on your cash-box and +jugular."-- + +"Cash-box! I have no cash-box. My cash is all in bank!" + +"Gammon. It won't do. Behind yer seat is yer iron safe,--one o' th' +Salamanders; you're got ten thousand in gold, in _that_." + +Mr. Somers changed color. + +"They intend to blow up the lock with powder, after they'd fixed your +_jugular_." + +Mr. Somers clasped his hands, and shook like a leaf. + +"What's to be done, what's to be done!" he cried in perfect agony. + +"There's six o' my fellows outside. I've got a special warrant from +the authorities. Now, if you've a key to Evelyn's rooms, we'll just go +up-stairs and search 'em. You can stand outside, while we go in. But no +noise,--no fuss you know." + +"But they'll murder you," cried the merchant, "they'll murder me. +They'll,"-- + +Blossom drew a six-barreled revolver from one pocket, and a slung-shot +from the other. + +"This is my _settler_," he elevated his revolver, "and this, my _gentle +persuader_," he brandished the slung-shot. + +"Oh!" cried Mr. Somers, "property is no longer respected,--ah! what +times we've fallen in!" + +"How many folks have you in the house?" + +"The servants sleep in the fourth story, over Evelyn's room. The +housekeeper sleeps under Evelyn's room, and my room and the room of my +private secretary are just above where I am sitting." + +"Good. Now take the candle, and come," responded Blossom, "we want you +as a witness." + +The merchant prince made many signs of hesitation,--winking his heavy +lids, rubbing his low forehead with both hands, and pressing his +pointed chin between his thumb and forefinger,--but Blossom seized the +candle, and made toward the door. + +"You are not going to leave me in the dark?" cried Mr. Somers, bounding +from his chair. + +"Not if you follow the light," responded Blossom; "by-the-by, you may +as well bring the keys to Evelyn's room." + +With a trembling hand, Mr. Somers lifted a huge bunch of keys from the +table. + +"There, open all the rooms on the second and fourth floors," he said, +and followed Blossom into the hall. + +There, shoulder to shoulder, stood six stout figures, in glazed caps +and great coats of rough, dark-colored cloth, with a mace or a pistol +protruding from every pocket. They stood as silent as blocks of stone. + +"Boys," whispered Blossom, "we'll go up first. You follow and station +yerselves on the second landin', so as to be ready when I whistle." + +A murmur of assent was heard, and Blossom, light in hand, led the +merchant prince toward the stairway which led upward from the center +of the hall. At the foot of the stairway, they were confronted by a +servant-maid, who had answered the bell when Blossom first rang: her +red, round cheeks were pale as ashes, and she clung to the railing of +the staircase for support. + +"Och, murther!" she ejaculated, as she beheld the red face of Blossom, +and the frightened visage of her master. + +Blossom seized her arm with a tight grip. + +"Look here, Biddy, do you know how to sleep?" was the inquiry of the +rubicund gentleman. + +"Slape?" echoed the girl, with eyes like saucers. + +"'Cause if you don't go back into the kitchen, and put yourself into +a sound sleep d'rectly; yourself, your master and me, will all be +murdered in our beds. It 'ud hurt my feelin's, Biddy, to see you with +your throat cut, and sich a nice fat throat as it is!" + +Biddy uttered a groan, and shrunk back behind the stairway. + +"Now then!" and Blossom led the way up-stairs, followed by the lean, +angular form of the merchant prince, who turned his head over his +shoulder, like a man afraid of ghosts. + +They arrived at the small entry at the head of the stairs, on the third +floor; three doors opened into the entry; one on the right, one on the +left, and the third directly in the background, facing the head of the +stairs. + +"Hush!" whispered Blossom, "do you hear any noise?" + +Advancing on tip-toe, he crouched against the door on the right, and +listened. In an instant he came back to the head of the stairs, where +stood Mr. Somers, shaking in every nerve. + +"It's a snore," said Blossom, "jist go and listen, and see if it's your +son's snore." + +It required much persuasion to induce the merchant prince to take the +step. + +"Where are your men?" + +Blossom pointed over the merchant's shoulder, to the landing beneath. +There, in the gloom, stood the six figures, shoulder to shoulder, and +as motionless as stone. + +"Now will you go?" + +Mr. Somers advanced, and placed his head against the door on the right. +After a brief pause, he returned to the head of the stairs where +Blossom stood. "It is not my son's _snore_," he said, "that is, if I am +any judge of _snores_." + +Blossom took the light and the keys, and advanced to the door on the +right, which he gently tried to open, but found it locked. Making a +gesture of caution to the merchant prince, he selected the key of the +door from the bunch, softly inserted it, and as softly turned it in +the lock. The door opened with a sound. Then stepping on tip-toe, he +crossed the threshold, taking the light with him. + +Mr. Somers, left alone in the dark, felt his heart march to his throat. + +"I shall be murdered,--I know I shall," he muttered, when the light +shone on his frightened face again. Blossom stood in the doorway, +beckoning to him. + +Somers advanced and crossed the threshold. + +"Look there," whispered Blossom "now d'ye believe me?" + +A huge man, dressed in the jacket and trowsers of a convict, was +sleeping on the bed, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open, and +one arm hanging over the bedside. His chest heaved with long, deep +respirations, and his nostrils emitted a snore of frightful depth. + +At this confirmation of the truth of Blossom's statement, Mr. Somers' +face became as white as his cravat. + +"Look _there_!" whispered Blossom, pointing to a pistol which lay upon +the carpet, almost within reach of the brawny hand which hung over the +bed-side. + +"Good God! ejaculated Somers. + +"Now look _there_!" Blossom pointed to the brandy bottle on the table, +and held the light near it. "_Empty!_ d'ye see?" + +Then Blossom drew from his capacious pocket, certain pieces of rope, +each of which was attached to the middle of a piece of hickory, as +hard as iron. + +"Hold the light," and like a nurse attending to a sleeping babe, the +ingenious Blossom gently attached one of the aforesaid pieces of rope +to the ankles of the sleeper, in such a manner, that the two pieces of +hickory,--one at either end of the rope,--formed a knot, which a giant +would have found it hard to break. As the ankles rested side by side, +this feat was not so difficult. + +"Now for the wrists," and Blossom quietly regarded the position of the +sleeper's hands. One was doubled on his huge chest, the other hung over +the bedside. To straighten one arm and lift the other,--to do this +gently and without awaking the sleeper,--to tie both wrists together +as he had tied the ankles,--this was a difficult task, but Blossom +accomplished it. Once the convict moved. "_Don't give it up so easy!_" +he muttered and snored again. + +Blossom surveyed him with great satisfaction.--"There's muscle, and +bone, and fists,--did you ever see sich fists!" + +"A perfect brute!" ejaculated Somers. + +"Now you stay here, while I go into the next room, and hunt for the +tother one." + +This room, it will be remembered, communicated with an adjoining +apartment by folding-doors. Blossom took the candle and listened; all +was silent beyond the folding-doors. He carefully opened these doors, +and light in hand, went into the next apartment. A belt of light +came through the aperture, and fell upon the tall, spare form of the +merchant prince, who, standing in the center of the _first_ apartment +gazed through the aperture just mentioned, into the _second_ room. All +the movements of Blossom were open to his gaze. + +He saw him approach a bed, whose ruffled coverlet indicated that a man +was sleeping there. He saw him bend over this bed, but the burly form +of the police-officer hid the face of the sleeper from the sight of the +merchant prince. He saw him lift the coverlet, and stand for a moment, +as if gazing upon the sleeping man, and then saw him start abruptly +from the bed, and turn his step toward the _first_ room. + +"What's the matter with _you_," cried the merchant prince, "are _you_ +frightened?" + +Truth to tell, the full-moon face of Blossom, spotted with carbuncles, +had somewhat changed its color. + +"Can't you speak? It's Evelyn who's sleeping yonder,--isn't it? Hadn't +you better wake him quietly?" + +"Ah my feller," and the broken voice of Blossom, showed that he was +_human_ after all--all that he had seen in his lifetime,--"Ah my +feller, he'll never wake again." + +Somers uttered a cry, seized the light and strode madly into the next +room, and turned the bed where the sleeper laid. The fallen jaw, the +fixed eyeballs, the hand upon the chest, stained with the blood which +flowed from the wound near the heart--he saw it all, and uttered a +horrible cry, and fell like a dead man upon the floor. + +Blossom seized the light from his hand as he fell, and turning back +into the first room blew his whistle. The room was presently occupied +by the six assistants. + +"There's been murder done here to-night," he said, gruffly: "Potts, +examine that pistol near the bed. Unloaded, is it? Gentlemen, take a +look at the prisoner and then follow me." + +He led the way into the second room, and they all beheld the dead body +of Evelyn Somers. + +"Two of you carry the old man down stairs and try and rewive him;" two +of the assistants lifted the insensible form of the merchant prince, +and bore it from the room. "Now, gentlemen, we'll wake the prisoner." + +He approached the sleeping convict, followed by four of the policemen, +whose faces manifested unmingled horror. He struck the sleeping man on +the shoulder,--"Wake up Gallus. Wake up Gallus, I say!" + +After another blow, Ninety-One unclosed his eyes, and looked around +with a vague and stupefied stare. It was not until he sat up in bed, +that he realized the fact, that his wrists and ankles were pinioned. +His gaze wandered from the face of Blossom to the countenances of the +other police-officers, and last of all, rested upon his corded hands. + +"My luck," he said, quietly,--"curse you, you needn't awakened a fellow +in his sleep. Why couldn't you have waited till mornin'?" + +And he sank back on the bed again. Blossom seized a pitcher filled +with water, which stood upon a table, and dashed the contents in the +convict's face. + +Thoroughly awake, and thoroughly enraged, Ninety-One started up in the +bed, and gave utterance to a volley of curses. + +Blossom made a sign with his hand; the four policemen seized the +convict and bore him into the second room, while Blossom held the light +over the dead man's livid face and bloody chest. + +"Do you see that bullet-hole?" said Blossom; "the pistol was found +a-side of your bed, near your hand. Gallus, you'll have to dance on +nothin', I'm werry much afeard you will. But it 'ill take a strong rope +to hang you." + +"What!" shouted Ninety-One, "you don't mean to say,--" he cast a +horrified look at the dead man, and then, like a flash of lightning, +the whole matter became as plain as day to him. "Oh, Thirty-One," +he groaned between his set-teeth, "this is your dodge,--is it? Oh, +Thirty-One, this is another little item in our long account." + +"What do you say?" asked one of the policemen. Ninety-One relapsed into +a dogged silence. They could not force another word from him. Carrying +him back into the first room, they laid him on the bed, and secured +his ankles and wrists with additional cords. Meanwhile, they could +peruse at their leisure, that face, whose deep jaw, solid chin, and +massive throat, covered with a stiff beard, manifested at once, immense +muscular power, and an indomitable will. The eyes of the convict, +overhung by his bushy brows, the cheeks disfigured by a hideous scar, +the square forehead, with the protuberance in the center, appearing +amid masses of gray hair,--all these details, were observed by the +spectators, as they added new cords to the ankles and the wrists of +Ninety-One. + +His chest shook with a burst of laughter, "Don't give it up so easy!" +he cried, "I'll be even with you yet, Thirty-One." + +"S'arch all the apartments,--we must find his comrade," exclaimed +Blossom,--"a pale-faced young devil, whom I seen with him, last night, +in the cars." + +Ninety-One started, even as he lay pinioned upon the bed.--"Oh, +Thirty-One," he groaned, "and you must bring the boy in it, too, must +you? Just add another figure to our account." + +The four rooms were thoroughly searched, but the comrade was not found. + +"Come, boys," said Blossom, "we'll go down-stairs and talk this matter +over. Gallus," directing his conversation to Ninety-One, "we'll see you +again, presently." + +Ninety-One saw them cross the threshold, and heard the key turn in the +lock. He was alone in the darkness, and with the dead. + +As Blossom, followed by the policemen, passed down stairs, he was +confronted on the second landing by the affrighted servants,--some of +them but thinly clad,--who assailed him with questions. Instead of +answering these multiplied queries, Blossom addressed his conversation +to a portly dame of some forty years, who appeared in her night-dress +and with an enormous night-cap. + +"The housekeeper, I believe, Ma'am?" + +"Yes, sir,--Mrs. Tompkins," replied the dame, "Oh, do tell me, what +does this all mean?" + +"How's the old gentleman?" asked Blossom. + +"In his room. He's reviving. Mr. Van Huyden, his private secretary is +with him. But do tell us the truth of this affair--what--what, does it +all mean?" + +"Madam, it means murder and blood and an old convict. Excuse me, I must +go--down-stairs." + +While the house rang with the exclamations of his affrighted listeners, +Blossom passed down stairs, and, with his assistants, entered the +Library. + +"The question afore the house, gentlemen, is as follows,"--and Blossom +sank into the chair of the merchant prince--"Shill we keep the prisoner +up-stairs all night, or shill we take him to the Tombs?" + +Various opinions were given by the policemen, and the debate assumed +quite an animated form, Blossom, in all the dignity of his bear-skin +coat and carbuncled visage, presiding as moderator. + +"Address the cheer," he mildly exclaimed, as the debate grew warm. +"Allow me to remark, gentlemen, that Stuffletz, there, is very +sensible. Stuff., you think as the coroner's inquest will be held +up-stairs by arly daylight to-morrow mornin' it 'ud be better to keep +the prisoner there so as to confront him with the body? That's your +opinion, Stuff. Well, I can't speak for you, gentlemen, as I don't +b'long to the reg'lar police,--(I'm only an _extra_, you know!)--but +it seems to me, Stuff. is right. Therefore, let the prisoner stay +up-stairs all night; the room is safe, and I'll watch him mesself. +Beside, you don't think he's a-goin' to tumble himself out of a third +story winder, or vanish in a puff o' brimstone, as the devil does in +the new play at the Bowery--do you?" + +There was no one to gainsay the strong position thus assumed by +Poke-Berry Blossom, Esq. + +"And then I kin have a little private chat with him, in regard to the +$71,000,--I guess I can," he muttered to himself. + +"What's the occasion of this confusion?" said a bland voice; and, clad +in his elegant white coat, with his cloak drooping from his right +shoulder, Colonel Tarleton advanced from the doorway to the light. +"Passing by I saw Mr. Somers' door open, and hear an uproar,--what is +the matter, gentlemen? My old friend, Mr. Somers, is not ill, I hope?" + +"Evelyn, his son, has been shot," bluntly responded Blossom--"by an +old convict, who had hid himself in the third story, with the idea o' +attackin' old Somers' cash-box and jugular." + +Colonel Tarleton, evidently shocked, raised his hand to his forehead +and staggered to a chair. + +"Evelyn shot!" he gasped, after a long pause.--"Surely you dream. The +particulars, the particulars--" + +Blossom recapitulated the particulars of the case, according to the +best of his knowledge. + +"It is too horrible, too horrible," cried Tarleton, and his extreme +agitation was perceptible to the policemen. "My young friend Evelyn +murdered! Ah!--" he started from the chair, and fell back again with +his head in his hands. + +"But we've got the old rag'muffin," cried Blossom, "safe and tight; +third story, back room." + +Tarleton started from the chair and approached Blossom,--his pale face +stamped with hatred and revenge. + +"Mr. Blossom," he said, and snatched the revolver from the pocket of +the rubicund gentleman. "Hah! it's loaded in six barrels! Murdered +Evelyn--in the back room you say--I'll have the scoundrel's life!" + +He snatched the candle from the table, and rushed to the door. The +policemen did not recover from their surprise, until they heard his +steps on the stairs. + +"After him, after him,--there'll be mischief," shouted Blossom, and +he rushed after Tarleton, followed by the six policemen. Tarleton's +shouts of vengeance resounded through the house, and once more drew the +servants, both men and women, to the landing-place at the head of the +stairs. That figure attracted every eye--a man attired in a white coat, +his face wild, his hair streaming behind him, a loaded pistol in one +hand and a light in the other. + +"Ketch his coat-tails," shouted Blossom, and, followed by policemen and +servant-maids, he rushed up the second stairway. + +He found Tarleton in the act of forcing the door on the _right_, which +led into the room where Ninety-One was imprisoned. + +"It is locked! Damnation!" shouted Tarleton, roaring like a madman. +"Will no one give me the key?" + +"I'll tell you what I'll give you," was the remark of Blossom. "I'll +give you _one_ under yer ear, if you don't keep quiet,--" + +But his threat came too late. Tarleton stepped back and then plunged +madly against the door. It yielded with a crash. Then, with Blossom +and the crowd at his heels, he rushed into the room, brandishing the +pistol, as the light which he held fell upon his convulsed features,-- + +"Where is the wretch?--show him to me! Where is the murderer of poor +Evelyn?" + +Blossom involuntarily turned his eyes toward the bed. It was empty. +Ninety-One was not there. His gaze traversed the room: a door, looking +like the doorway of a closet, stood wide open opposite the bed. It +required but a moment to ascertain that the door opened upon a stairway. + +"By ----!" shouted Blossom, "he's gone! His comrade has been concealed +somewhere, and has cut him loose." + +"Gone!" echoed police-officers and servants. + +"Gone!" ejaculated Tarleton, and fell back into a chair, and his head +sunk upon his breast. + +There he remained muttering and moaning, while the four apartments on +the third floor were searched in every corner by Blossom and his gang. +The search was vain. + +"He can't be got far," cried Blossom. "Some o' you go down into the +yard, and I'll s'arch this staircase." + +Thus speaking, he took the light and disappeared through the open +doorway of the staircase, while the other police-officers hastily +descended the main stairway. + +Tarleton remained at least five minutes in the darkness, while shouts +were heard in the yard behind the mansion. Then, emerging from the +room, he descended to the second floor, where he was confronted by the +housekeeper, who was struck with pity at the sight of his haggard face. + +"I am weak--I am faint; allow me to lean upon your arm," said Tarleton, +and supported his weight upon the fat arm of the good lady.--"Support +me to the bedchamber of my dear friend Somers,--the father of poor +murdered Evelyn." + +"This way, sir," said the housekeeper, kindly, "he's in there, with his +private secretary--" + +"With his _private secretary_, did you say?" faintly exclaimed +Tarleton. "Close the door after me, good madam, I wish to talk with the +dear old man." + +He entered the bedchamber, leaving the housekeeper at the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +"SHOW ME THE WAY." + + +A single lamp stood on a table, near a bed which was surmounted by +a canopy of silken curtains. The room was spacious and elegant; +chairs, carpet, the marble mantle, elaborately carved, and the ceiling +adorned with an elaborate painting,--all served to show that the +merchant prince slept in a "place of state." Every detail of that +richly-furnished apartment, said "Gold!" as plainly as though a voice +was speaking it all the while. + +His lean form, attired in every-day apparel, was stretched upon the +bed, and through the aperture in the curtains, the lamp-light fell +upon one side of his face. He appeared to be sleeping. His arms lay +listlessly by his side, and his head was thrown back upon the pillow. +His breathing was audible in the most distant corner of the chamber. + +"Gulian," said Tarleton, who seemed to recover his usual strength and +spirit, as soon as he entered the room, "Where are you, my dear?" + +The slight form of the private secretary advanced from among the +curtains at the foot of the bed. His face, almost feminine in its +expression, appeared in the light, with tears glistening on the cheeks. +It was a beautiful face, illumined by large, clear eyes, and framed in +the wavy hair, which flowed in rich masses to his shoulders. At sight +of the elegant Colonel, the blue eyes of the boy shone with a look of +terror. He started back, folding his hands over the frock coat, which +enveloped his boyish shape. + +"Ah, my God,--you here!" was his exclamation, "when will you cease to +persecute me?" + +The Colonel smiled, patted his elegant whiskers, and drawing nearer to +the boy, who seemed to _cringe_ away from his touch, he said in his +blandest tone,-- + +"Persecute you! Well, that is clever!--Talk of gratitude again in this +world! I took you when you were a miserable foundling, a wretched +little baby, without father, mother, or name. I placed you in the quiet +of a country town, where you received an elegant education. I gave you +a name,--a fancy name, I admit--the name which you now wear--and when I +visited you, once or twice a year, you called me by the name of father. +How I gained money to support you these nineteen or twenty years, and +to adorn that fine intellect of yours, with a finished education,--why, +you don't know, and I scarcely can tell, myself. But after these years +of protection and support, I appeared at your home in the country, and +asked a simple favor at your hands. Ay, child, the man you delighted +to call father asked in return for all that he had done for you, a +favor--only one favor--and that of the simplest character. Where was +your gratitude? You refused me; you fled from your home in the country, +and I lost sight of you until to-night, when I find my lost lamb, in +the employment of the rich merchant. His private secretary, forsooth!" + +"Hush," exclaimed Gulian, with a deprecatory gesture, "You will wake +Mr. Somers. He has had one convulsion already, and it may prove fatal. +I have sent for a doctor,--oh, why does he not come?" + +"You shall not avoid me in that way, my young friend," said Tarleton. +He laid his hand on the arm of the boy, and bent his face so near to +him that the latter felt the Colonel's breath upon his forehead. "The +money which I bestowed upon your education, I obtained by what the +world calls _felony_. For you--for you--" his voice sunk to a deeper +tone, and his eyes flashed with anger; "for you I spent some years +in that delightful retreat, which is known to vulgar ears by the +word,--PENITENTIARY!" + +"God help me," cried the boy, affrighted by the expression which +stamped the Colonel's face. + +"_Penitentiary_ or _jail_, call it what you will, I spent some years +there for your sake. And do you wish to evade me now when, I tell you +that I reared you but for one object, and that object dearer to me +than life? You ran away from my guardianship; you attempt to conceal +yourself from me; you attempt to foil the hope for which I have +suffered the tortures of the damned these twenty years? Come, my boy, +you'll think better of it." + +The smile of the Colonel was altogether fiendish. The boy sank on his +knees, and raised to the Colonel's gaze that beautiful face stamped +with terror, and bathed in tears. + +"Oh, pardon me--forgive me!" he cried, "Do not kill me--" + +"Kill you! Pshaw!" + +"Let me live an obscure life, away from your observation; let me be +humble, poor and unknown; as you value the hope of salvation, do not--I +beseech you on my knees--do not ask me to comply with your request!" + +"If you don't get up, I may be tempted to strike you," was the +brutal remark of the Colonel. "Pitiful wretch! Hark ye," he bent +his head,--"the robber who this night murdered Evelyn Somers, +gained admittance to this house by means of a night-key. He had +an _accomplice_ in the house, who supplied him with the key. That +accomplice, (let us suppose a case) was yourself--" + +"Me!" cried the boy, in utter horror. + +"I can _obtain_ evidence of the fact," continued the Colonel, and +paused. "You had better think twice before you enter the lists with me +and attempt to thwart my will." + +The boy, thus kneeling, did not reply, but buried his face in his +hands, and his flowing hair hid those hands with its luxurious waves. +He shook in every nerve with agony. He sobbed aloud. + +"Will you be quiet?" the Colonel seized him roughly by the shoulder, +"or shall I throttle you?" + +"Yes, kill me, _fiend_, kill me, oh! kill me with one blow:" the boy +raised his face, and pronounced these words, his eyes flashing with +hatred, as he uttered the word "_fiend_." There was something startling +in the look of mortal hatred which had so suddenly fixed itself upon +that beautiful face. Even the Colonel was startled. + +"Nay, nay, my child," he said in a soothing tone, "get up, get up, +that's a dear child--I meant no harm--" + +At this moment the conversation was interrupted by a hollow voice. + +"You must pay, sir. That's my way.--You must pay or you must go." + +The business-like nature, the every-day character of these words, was +in painful contrast with the hollow accent which accompanied their +utterance. At the sound the boy sprang to his feet, and the Colonel +started as though a pistol had exploded at his ear. + +The merchant prince had risen into a sitting posture. His thin +features, low, broad forehead, wide mouth, with thin lips and pointed +chin, were thrown strongly into view by the white cravat which +encircled his throat. Those features were bathed in moisture. The small +eyes, at other times half concealed by heavy lids, were now expanded +in a singular stare,--a stare which made the blood of the Colonel grow +cold in his veins. + +"God bless us! What's the matter with you, good Mr. Somers?" he +ejaculated. + +But the rich man did not heed him. + +"I wouldn't give a snap for your Reading Railroad--bad stock--bad +stock--it must burst. It _will_ burst, I say. Pay, pay, pay, or go! +That's the only way to do business. D'ye suppose I'm an ass? The note +_can't_ lie over. If you don't meet it, it shall be protested." + +As he uttered these incoherent words, his expanding eyes still fixed, +he inserted his tremulous hand in his waist-coat pocket, and took from +thence a GOLDEN EAGLE, which he brought near his eyes, gazing at it +long and eagerly. + +"He's delirious," ejaculated Tarleton, "why don't you go for a doctor?" + +"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Gulian, rushing to the door, "why doesn't +the doctor come?--" + +But at the door he was confronted by the buxom housekeeper, who +whispered, "Our doctor is out of town, but one of the servants has +found another one: he's writing down-stairs." + +"Quick! Quick! Bring him at once;" and Gulian, in his flight, pushed +the housekeeper out of the room. + +Mr. Somers still remained in a sitting posture, his eye fixed upon the +golden eagle. + +"Tell Jenks to foreclose," he muttered, "I've nothing to do with the +man's wife and children. It isn't in the way of business. The mortgage +isn't paid, and we must sell--sell--sell,--sell," he repeated until his +voice died away in a murmur. + +The doctor entered the room. "Where is our patient?" he said, as he +advanced to the bedside. He was a man somewhat advanced in years, with +bent figure and stooping shoulders. He was clad in an old-fashioned +surtout, with nine or ten heavy capes hanging about his shoulders; and, +as if to protect him from the cold, a bright-red kerchief was tied +about his neck and the lower part of his face. He wore a black fur hat, +with an ample brim, which effectually shaded his features. + +The Colonel started at the sight of this singular figure. "Our friend +of the blue capes, as I'm alive!" he muttered half aloud. + +The doctor advanced to the bedside.--"You will excuse me for retaining +my hat and this kerchief about my neck," he said in his mild voice, "I +am suffering from a severe cold." He then directed his attention to the +sick man, while Gulian and Tarleton watched his movements, with evident +interest. + +The doctor did not touch the merchant; he stood by the bedside, gazing +upon him silently. + +"What's the matter with our friend?" whispered Tarleton. + +The doctor did not answer. He remained motionless by the bedside, +surveying the quivering features and fixed eyes of the afflicted man. + +"This person," exclaimed the doctor, after a long pause, "is not +suffering from a physical complaint. His mind is afflicted. From the +talk of the servants in the hall, I learned that he has this night lost +his only son, by the hands of a murderer. The shock has been too great +for him. My young friend," he addressed Gulian, who stood at his back, +"it were as well to send for a clergyman." + +Gulian hurried to the door, and whispered to the housekeeper. Returning +to the bedside, he found the doctor seated in a chair, with a watch in +his hand, in full view of the delirious man. The Colonel, grasping the +bed-curtain, stood behind him, in an attitude of profound thought, yet +with a faint smile upon his lips. + +As for the merchant prince, seated bolt upright in the bed, he clutched +the golden eagle, (which seemed to have _magnetized_ his gaze), and +babbled in his delirium-- + +"_You_ an heir of Trinity Church?" he said, with a mocking smile upon +his thin lips, "_you_ one of the descendants of Anreke Jans Bogardus? +Pooh! Pooh! The Church is firm,--_firm_. She defies you. Aaron Burr +tried that game, he! he! and found it best to quit,--to quit--to quit. +What Trinity Church has got, she will hold,--hold--hold. She buys,--she +sells--she sells--she buys--a great business man is Trinity Church! And +with your two hundred beggarly heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus, you will +go to law about her title. Pooh!" + +"He is going fast," whispered the Doctor, "his mind is killing him. +Where are his relatives?" + +His relatives! Sad, sad word! His wife had been dead many years, and +her relatives were at a distance; perchance in a foreign land. His +_nearest_ relative was a corpse, up-stairs, with a pistol wound through +his heart. + +Evelyn Somers, Sen., was one of the richest men in New York, and +yet there was not a single relative to stand by his dying-bed. The +death-sweat on his fevered brow, the whiteness of death on his +quivering lips, the fire of the grave in his expanding eyes, Evelyn +Somers, the merchant prince, had neither wife nor child nor relative to +stand by him in his last hour. The poor boy who wept by the bed-side +was, perchance, his only friend. + +"Cornelius Berman, the artist, (who died, I believe, some years ago,) +was his only relative in New York: his only son out of view." This was +the answer of Colonel Tarleton, to the question of the Doctor. + +And the dying man, still sitting bolt upright, one hand on his knee, +and the other grasping the golden coin, still babbled in his delirium +in the hollow tone of death. He talked of everything. He bought and +sold, received rent and distressed tenants, paid notes and protested +them, made imaginary sums by the sale of stocks, and achieved imaginary +triumphs by the purchase of profitable tracts of land,--it was a +frightful scene. + +The Doctor shuddered, and as he looked at his watch, muttered a word of +prayer. + +The Colonel turned his face away, but was forced by an involuntary +impulse, to turn again and gaze upon that livid countenance. + +The boy Gulian--in the shadows of the room--sunk on his knees and +uttered a prayer, broken by sobs. + +At length the dying man seemed to recover a portion of his +consciousness. Turning his gaze from the golden coin which he still +clutched in his fingers, he said in a voice which, in some measure, +resembled his every-day tone,-- + +"Send for a minister, a minister, quick! I am very weak." + +The words had scarcely passed his lips, when a soft voice exclaimed, +"I am here, my dear friend Somers, I trust that this is not serious. A +sad, sad affliction, you have encountered to-night. But you must cheer +up, you must, indeed." + +The minister had entered the room unperceived, and now stood by the +bed-side. + +"Herman Barnhurst!" ejaculated Colonel Tarleton. + +The tall, slender figure of the clergyman, dressed in deep black, +was disclosed to the gaze of the dying man, who gazed intently at +his _blonde_ face, effeminate in its excessive fairness, and then +exclaimed, reaching his hand,-- + +"Come, I am going. I want you to show me the way!" + +"Really, my dear friend," began Barnhurst, passing his hand over his +hair, which, straight and brown and of silken softness, fell smoothly +behind his ears, "you must bear up. This is not so serious as you +imagine." + +"I tell you I am going. I have often heard you preach,--once or twice +in Trinity--I rather liked you--and now I want you to show me the way! +Do you see there?" he extended his trembling hand, "there's the way I'm +going. It's all dark. You're a minister of my church too; I want you to +_show me the way_?" + +There was a terrible emphasis in the accent,--a terrible entreaty in +the look of the dying man. + +The Rev. Herman Barnhurst sank back in a chair, much affected. + +"Has he made his will?" he whispered to the Doctor, "so much property +and no heirs: he could do so much good with it. Had not you better send +for a lawyer?" + +The Doctor regarded, for a moment, the fair complexion, curved nose, +warm, full lips, and rounded chin of the young minister; and then +answered, in a low voice, + +"You are a minister. It is your duty not altogether to preach eloquent +sermons, and show a pair of delicate hands from the summit of a marble +pulpit. It is your duty to administer comfort by the dying-bed, where +humbug is stripped of its mark, and death is 'the only reality'. Do +your duty, sir. Save this man's soul." + +"Yes, save my soul," cried Somers, who heard the last words of the +Doctor, "I don't want the offices of the church; I don't want prayers. +I want comfort, comfort; _now_." He paused, and then reaching forth +his hand, said in a low voice, half broken by a burst of horrible +laughter, "There's the way I've got to travel. Now tell me, minister, +do you really believe that there is anything there? When we die, we +die, don't we? Sleep and rot, rot and sleep, don't we?" + +Herman, who was an Atheist at heart, though he had never confessed +the truth even to himself--Herman, who was a minister for the sake +of a large salary, fine carriage, and splendid house--Herman, who +was, in fact, an intellectual voluptuary, devoting life and soul to +the gratification of one appetite, which had, with him, become a +monomania--Herman, now, for the first moment in his life, was conscious +of a something _beyond_ the grave; conscious that this religion of +Christ, the Master, which he used as a trade, was something more than a +trade; was a fact, a reality, at once a hope and a judgment. + +And the Rev. Herman Barnhurst felt one throe of remorse, and shuddered. +Vailing his fair face in his delicate hands, he gave himself up to one +moment of terrible reflection. + +"He is failing fast," whispered the Doctor; "you had better say a word +of hope to him." + +"Yes, the camel is going through the eye of the needle," cried +Somers, with a burst of shrill laughter. "Minister, did you ever see +a camel go through the eye of a needle? Oh! you fellows preach such +soft and velvety sermons to us,--but you never say a word about the +camel--never a word about the camel. You see us buy and sell,--you see +us hard landlords, careful business men,--you see us making money day +after day, and year after year, at the cost of human life and human +blood,--and you never say a word about the camel. Never! never! Why we +_keep_ such fellows as you, for our use: for every thousand that we +make in _trade_, we give you a good discount, in the way of salary, and +so as we go along, we keep a _debit_ and _credit_ account with what you +call Providence. Now rub out my sins, will you? I've paid you for it, I +believe!" + +"Poor friend! He is delirious!" ejaculated Herman Barnhurst. + +The boy Gulian, (unperceived by the doctor,) brought a golden-clasped +Bible, and laid it on the minister's knees. Then looking with a shudder +at the livid face of the merchant prince, he shrank back into the +shadows, first whispering to the minister--"Read to him from this +book." + +Somers, with his glassy eye, caught a glimpse of the book, as in its +splendid binding, it rested on the minister's knees-- + +"Pooh! pooh! you needn't read. Because if _that_ book is true, why then +I've made a bad _investment_ of my life. I never deceived myself. I +always looked upon this thing you call religion as a branch of trade--a +cloak--a trap. But now I want you to tell me one thing, (and I've paid +enough money to have a decent answer): Do you really believe that there +is _anything_ after this life? Speak, minister! Don't we go to sleep +and rot,--and isn't that all?" + +Herman did not answer. + +But the voice of the boy Gulian, who was kneeling in the shadows of the +death-chamber, broke through the stillness-- + +"There is something beyond the grave. There is a God! There is a heaven +and a hell. There is a hope for the repentant, and there is a judgment +for the impenitent." There was something almost supernatural in the +tones of the boy's voice, breaking so slowly and distinctly upon the +profound stillness. + +The spectators started at the sound; and as for the dying man, he +picked at his clothing and at the coverlet with his long fingers, now +chilling fast with the cold of death--and muttered incoherent sounds, +without sense or meaning of any kind. + +"His face has a horrible look!" ejaculated the Colonel; who was half +hidden among the curtains of the bed. + +"He is going fast," said the Doctor, looking at his watch. "In five +minutes all will be over,--" + +"And you said, I believe, that he had not made his will?" + +It was Herman who spoke. The sensation of remorse had been succeeded +by his accustomed tone of feeling. His face was impressed with the +profound selfishness which impelled his words. "He had better make his +will. Without heirs, he can leave his fortune to the church,--" + +"For shame! for shame!" cried the Doctor. + +"A little too greedy, my good friend," the Colonel, at his back, +remarked. "Allow me to remark, that your conduct manifests too much of +the Levite, and too little of the gentleman." + +Herman bit his lip, and was silent + +After this, there was no word spoken for a long time. + +The spectators watched in silence the struggles of the dying man. + +How he died!--I shudder but to write it; and would not write it, were +I not convinced that _atheism in the church_ is the grand cause of one +half of the crimes and evils that afflict the world. + +The death-bed of the ATHEIST church-member, with the ATHEIST minister +sitting by the bed, was a horrible scene. + +I see that picture, now:-- + +A vast room, furnished with all the incidents of wealth, lofty ceiling, +walls adorned with pictures, and carpet that was woven in human blood. +A single lamp on the table near the bed, breaks the gloom. The curtains +of that bed are of satin, the pillow is of down, the coverlet is +spotless as the snow; and there a long slender frame, and a face with +the seal of sixty years of life upon it, attract the gaze of silent +spectators. + +The doctor--his face shaded by the wide rim of his hat, sits by the +bed, watch in hand. + +Behind him appears the handsome face of Colonel Tarleton--the man of +the world, whose form is shrouded in the curtains. + +A little apart, kneels the boy, Gulian, whose beautiful face is stamped +with awe and bathed in tears. + +And near the head of the bed, seated on a chair, which touches the +pillow upon which rests the head of the dying--behold the tall form and +aquiline face of the minister, who listens to the moans of death, and +subdues his conscience into an expression of calm serenity. + +The dying man is seized with a spasm, which throws his limbs into +horrible contortions. He writhes, and struggles, with hands and feet, +as though wrestling with a murderer: he utters horrible cries. At +length, raising himself in a sitting posture, he projects his livid +face into the light; he reaches forth his arm, and grasps the minister +by the wrist,--the minister utters an involuntary cry of pain,--for +that grasp is like the pressure of an iron vice. + +"Not a word about the camel,--hey, minister?" + +That was the last word of Evelyn Somers, Sen., the merchant prince. + +There, projecting from the bed-curtains his livid face,--there, with +features distorted and eyes rolling, the last glance upon the evidences +of wealth, which filled the chamber,--there, even as he clasped the +minister by the wrist, he gasped his last breath, and was a dead man. + +It was with an effort that Herman Barnhurst disengaged his wrist from +the gripe of the dead man's hand. As he tore the hand away, a golden +eagle fell from it, and sparkled in the light, as it fell. The rich man +couldn't take it with him, to the place where he was going,--not even +one piece of gold. + +The Rev. Herman Barnhurst rose and left the room without once looking +back. + +The doctor, also, rose and straightened the dead man's limbs, and +closed his eyes. This done, he drew his broad-brimmed hat over his +brow, and left the room without a word--yes, he spoke four words, as he +left the place: "One out of seven!" he said. + +The Colonel emerged from the curtains; he was ashy pale, and he +tottered as he walked. This time his agitation was not a sham. Once he +looked back upon the dead man's face, and then directed his steps to +the door. + +"Remember, Gulian," he whispered as he passed the kneeling boy: +"to-morrow I will see you." + +Gulian, still on his knees in the center of the apartment, prayed God +to be merciful to the dead,--to the dead son, whose corpse lay in the +room above, and to the dead father, whose body was stretched before his +eyes. + +Tarleton paused for a moment on the threshold, with his hand upon the +knob of the door-- + +"If Cornelius Berman were alive, he would inherit this immense estate!" +muttered the Colonel. "As it is, here is a palace with two dead bodies +in it, and no heir to inherit the wealth of the corpse which only half +an hour ago was the owner of half a million dollars. But it is no time +to meditate. There's work for me at THE TEMPLE." + +Turning from that stately mansion, in which father and son lay dead, we +will follow the steps of Rev. Herman Barnhurst. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE REVEREND VOLUPTUARIES. + + +As the REV. HERMAN BARNHURST passed from the hall-door of the palace of +the merchant prince, and descended the marble steps, his thoughts were +by no means of a pleasant character. The image of Alice, for the moment +forgotten, the thoughts of Herman were occupied with the scene which he +had just witnessed,--the hopeless death-bed of the merchant prince. + +"The fool!" muttered Herman, drawing his cloak around him, and pulling +his hat over his brows, "The miserable fool! To die without making a +will, when he has no heirs and the church has done so much for him. +Why (in his own phrase) it has been _capital_ to him, in the way of +reputation; he has grown rich by that reputation; and now he dies, +leaving the church and her ministers,--not a single copper, not a +single copper." + +It was too early for Herman to return to his home,--so he +thought,--therefore, he directed his steps toward Broadway, resolving, +in spite of the late hour of the night, to pay a visit to one of his +most intimate friends. + +But, as he left the palace of the merchant prince, a MAN wrapped also +in a cloak, and with a cap over his eyes, rose from the shadows behind +the marble steps, and walked with an almost noiseless pace in the +footsteps of the young clergyman. + +This man had seen Herman enter the house of the merchant prince. +Standing himself in the darkness behind the steps, he had waited +patiently until Herman again appeared. In fact, he had followed the +steps of the clergyman for at least three hours previous to the moment +when he came to the residence of Evelyn Somers, Sr.; followed him from +street to street, from house to house, walking fast or slow, as Herman +quickened or moderated his pace; stopping when Herman stopped; and +thus, for three long hours, he had dogged the steps of the clergyman +with a patience and perseverance, that must certainly have been the +result of some powerful motive. + +And now, as the Rev. Herman Barnhurst left the house where the merchant +prince lay dead, the MAN in cap and cloak, quietly resumed his march, +like a veteran at the tap of the drum. + +At the moment when Herman reached a dark point of the street near +Broadway, the MAN stole noiselessly to his side and tapped him on the +shoulder. + +Herman turned with an ejaculation,--half fear, half wonder. The street +was dark and deserted; the lights of Broadway shone two hundred yards +ahead. Herman, at a glance, saw that himself and the MAN were the only +persons visible. + +"It's a thief," he thought,--and then, said aloud, in his sweetest +voice: "What do you want, my friend?" + +"_The twenty-fifth of December is near,_" said the MAN, in a slow and +significant voice: "I have important information to communicate to you, +in relation to the _Van Huyden estate_." + +Herman was, of course, interested in the great estate, as one of +the SEVEN; but he had a deeper interest in it, than the reader,--at +present, can imagine. The words of the MAN, therefore, agitated him +deeply. + +"Who are you?" he asked. + +"That I will tell you, when you have taken me to a place, where we can +converse freely together." + +Herman hesitated. + +"Well, as you will," said the MAN--"It concerns you as much as it does +me. You are afraid to grant me an interview. Good night--" + +Thus speaking, he carelessly turned away. + +Now Herman was afraid of the MAN, but there were other Men of whom he +was more afraid. So balancing one fear against another, he came to this +conclusion, that the MAN might communicate something, which would save +him from the _other Men_, and so he called the stranger back. + +"Why this concealment?" he asked. + +"You will confess, after we have talked together, that I have good +reasons for this concealment," was the answer of the MAN. + +"Come, then, with me," said Herman, "I will not take you to my own +rooms, but I will take you to the rooms of a friend. He is out of town +and we can converse at our ease." + +He led the way toward the room of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin, whom the profane +sometimes called Bulgin_e_, which, as the learned know, is good +Ethiopian for Steam Engine. This seemed to imply that the Rev. Dr. was +a perfect Locomotive in his way. + +"My friend Bulgin," said Herman, as they arrived in front of a massive +four story building, on a cross street, not more than a quarter of a +mile from the head of Broadway, "occupies the entire upper floor of +this house, as a study. There he secludes himself while engaged in +the composition of his more elaborate works. He has a body servant +and a maid servant to wait upon him; and a parlor down stairs, for +the reception of his visitors; but he has no communication with the +other part of the house. In fact, he never sees the occupants of the +boarding-house beneath his study. He rents his rooms of the lady who +keeps the boarding-house,--Mrs. Smelgin,--who supplies his meals. Thus, +he has the upper part of the house all to himself; and as I have a key +to his rooms, we can go up there and talk at our ease." + +"But, is not Dr. Bulgin married?" asked the MAN. + +"He is. But his lady, on account of her health (she cannot bear the +noise of the city), is forced to reside in the country with her father." + +"Ah!" said the man. + +Herman opened the front door with a night key, and led the way along +a hall and up three ranges of stairs, until he came to a door. This +door he opened with another key, and followed by the MAN, he entered +Dr. Bulgin's study. He then locked the door, and they found themselves +enveloped in Egyptian darkness. + +"This may be Dr. Bulgin's study, but it strikes me, a little light +would not do it much harm." + +"Wait a moment," said Barnhurst,--"I'll light the lamp." And presently, +by the aid of matches, he lighted a lamp which stood on a table of +variegated marble. A globular shade of an exquisite pattern tempered +the rays of the lamp, and filled the place with a light that was +eminently soft and luxurious. + +"Be seated," said Barnhurst, but the _stranger_ remained standing, with +his cloak wound about him and his cap drawn over his brows. He was +evidently examining the details of the study with an attentive,--may +be--an astonished gaze. + +Dr. Bulgin's study was worthy of examination. + +It was composed of the upper floor of Mrs. Smelgin's boarding-house, +and was, therefore, a vast room, its depth and breadth corresponding to +the depth and breadth of the house. + +It was, at least, thirty yards in length and twenty in breadth, and the +ceiling was of corresponding height. Four huge windows faced the east, +and four the west. + +Thus, vast and roomy, the apartment was furnished in a style which +might well excite the attentive gaze of the stranger. + +In the center of the southern wall, stood the bookcase, an elegant +fabric of rosewood, surmounted by richly-carved work, and crowned with +an alabaster bust of Leo the Tenth; the voluptuous Pope who drank his +wine, while poor Martin Luther was overturning the world. + +The shelves of this bookcase were stored with the choicest books +of five languages; some glittering in splendid binding, and others +looking ancient and venerable in their faded covers. There were the +most recondite works in English, French, German, Spanish; and there +were also the most popular works in as many languages. Theology, +metaphysics, mathematics, geometry, poetry, the drama, history, fact, +fiction,--all were there, and of all manner of shapes, styles and ages. +It was a very Noah's Ark of literature, into which seemed to have been +admitted _one_ specimen, at least, of every book in the universe. + +On the right of the bookcase was a sofa that made you sleepy just to +look at it; it was so roomy, and its red-velvet cushioning looked +so soft and tempting. This sofa was framed in rosewood, with little +rosewood cupids wreathed around its legs. + +And on the left of the bookcase was another sofa of a richer style, and +of a more sleep-impelling exterior. + +Above each sofa hung a picture, concealed by a thick curtain. + +Along the northern wall of the study were disposed a sofa as +magnificent as the others, and a series of marble pedestals and +red-velvet arm-chairs. Every pedestal was crowned by an alabaster vase +or statue of white marble. There were Eve, Apollo, Canova's Venus, and +the Three Graces,--all exquisite originals or exquisite copies, in +snowy marble. + +The arm-chairs were arm-chairs indeed. Red-velvet cushions and high +backs and great broad arms; they were the idea of a happy brain, +impregnated with belief in Sancho's "Blessed be the man that invented +sleep." + +And this northern wall was hung with pictures in massive frames, richly +gilt; the frames were exposed, but the pictures were vailed. + +In the intervals between the western windows were pedestals crowned +with vases, and mosaic tables loaded with objects of _virtu_: exquisite +trifles of all sorts, gleaned from the Old World. + +And in the intervals between the eastern windows were recesses, covered +with hangings of pale crimson. What is concealed in those recesses, +doth not yet appear. Both eastern and western windows were curtained +with folds of intermingled white and damask, floating luxuriantly from +the ceiling to the floor. + +The floor was covered with an Axminster carpet of the richest dyes. + +Gilt mouldings ran around the ceiling, and in the center thereof, was a +cupid, encircled by a huge wreath of roses, and reposing on a day-break +cloud. + +The table, of variegated marble, which stood in the center of the +study, was surrounded by three arm-chairs of the same style as those +which lined the wall. It was circular in form, and upon it, appeared an +elegant alabaster inkstand, gold pens with pearl handles, gilt-edged +paper touched with perfume, a few choice books, and an exquisite "Venus +in the Shell," done in alabaster. One of these books was a modern +edition of the Golden Ass of Apuleius; and the other was a choice +translation of Rabelais. + +Altogether, the Rev. Dr. Bulgin's room was one of those rooms worthy of +a place in history; and which, may be, could tell strange histories, +were its chairs and tables gifted with the power of speech. + +"And this is the study of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin!" ejaculated the MAN. + +"It is," replied Herman, flinging himself into an arm-chair; "here he +composes his most elaborate theological works." + +"Why is his library crowned with that bust of Leo the Tenth, the +Atheist and Sensualist?" + +"He is writing a work on the age of Luther," replied Herman. + +"Oh!" responded the MAN. + +"And this!" the MAN drew the vail and bore one of the pictures to the +light: "and this! what does it mean?" + +"You are inquisitive, sir," replied Herman, somewhat confounded by the +sudden disclosure of this singular picture, "why, in fact, Dr. Bulgin +is writing a tract _against_ immoral pictures." + +"A-h!" responded the MAN, and picked from the table the Golden Ass of +Apuleius, illustrated with plates, "what does this do here? Are these +plates to be understood in a theological sense?" + +"Dr. Bulgin is getting up a treatise upon the subject of immoral +literature. He has that book as an example." + +"And when he writes a treatise on the infernal regions, he'd send there +for a piece of the brimstone as an example?" + +"You are profane," said Herman, tartly; "let me hope that you will +proceed to business." + +The MAN placed his cloak on a chair, and his cap on the table. Then +seating himself opposite the minister, he gazed steadily in his face. +Herman grew red in the face, and felt as though he had suddenly been +plunged into an oven. + +"Your name is,--is,"--he hesitated. + +"Don't _you_ know me?" said the MAN. + +"I,--I,--why,--I,--let me see." + +Herman shaded his eyes with his hand, and steadily perused the face of +the STRANGER, as though, in the effort, to recognize him. + +He was a young man of a muscular frame, clad in a single-breasted blue +coat, which was buttoned over a broad chest. He was of the medium +height. His forehead was broad; his eyes clear gray; his lips wide and +firm; his nose inclining to the aquiline; his chin round and solid. +The general expression of his features was that of straightforwardness +and energy of character. There was the freshness and the warmth of +youth upon his face, and his forehead was stamped with the ideality of +genius. As he wore his brown hair in short, thick curls, it marked the +outline of his head, and threw his forehead distinctly into view. + +"You are,--you are,--where did I see you?" hesitated Herman. + +"I am Arthur Dermoyne," was the reply, in an even, but emphatic voice. + +Then there was an embarrassing pause. + +"Where have I met you?" said Herman, as if in the painful effort to +recollect. + +"At the house of Mr. Burney, in the city of Philadelphia," was the +answer. + +"Ah! now I remember!" ejaculated Herman; "Poor, poor Mr. Burney! You +have heard of the sad accident which took place last night, ah--ah--?" + +Herman buried his face in his hands, and seemed profoundly affected. + +"I saw his mangled body at the house half way between New York and +Philadelphia, only a few hours ago," the young man's voice was cold and +stern, "and now I am in New York, endeavoring to find the scoundrel who +abducted his only daughter." + +Herman looked at cupid in the ceiling and pretended to brush a hair +from his nose-- + +"Ah, I remember, poor Mr. Burney told me last night, that his child had +been abducted. Yes,--" Herman looked at the hair, and held it between +his eyes and the light, "he told me about it just before the accident +occurred. Poor girl! Poor girl! Oh, by-the-bye," turning suddenly in +his arm-chair, but without looking into the face of Dermoyne, "you take +an interest in the Burney family. Are you a relative?" + +"I have visited the house of Mr. Burney, from time to time, and have +seen Alice, his only daughter. You may think me romantic, but to see +that girl, so pure, so innocent, so beautiful, was to love her. I +will confess that had it not been for a disparity of fortune, and a +difference in regard to religious views, between her father and myself, +I would have been most happy to have made her my wife." + +The tone of the young man was somewhat agitated; he was endeavoring to +suppress his emotions. + +"Courage! He does not _know_," muttered Herman to himself, and then +assuming a calm look, he continued, aloud: "And she would have made you +a noble wife. By-the-bye, you spoke of your profession. A merchant, I +suppose?" + +"No, sir." + +"A lawyer?" + +"No, sir." + +"A medical gentleman?" + +"No, sir." + +"You are then--" + +"A shoemaker." + +"A WHAT," ejaculated Herman, jumping from his chair. + +"A shoemaker," repeated Arthur Dermoyne. "I gain my bread by the work +of my hands, and by the hardest of all kinds of work. I am not only a +mechanic, but a shoemaker." + +Herman could not repress a burst of laughter. + +"Excuse me, but, ha, ha, ha! You are a shoemaker? And you visited the +house of the wealthy Burney, and aspired to his daughter's hand? You +will excuse me, ha, ha, ha!--but it is so very odd." + +Dermoyne's forehead grew dark. + +"Yes, I am a shoemaker. I earn my bread by the work of my hands. But +before you despise me, you will hear why I am a shoemaker. As an +orphaned child, without father or mother, there was no other career +before me, than the pauperism of the outcast or the slavery of an +apprentice. I chose the latter. The overseers of the poor bound me out +to a trade. I grew up without hope, education, or home. In the day-time +I worked at an occupation which is work without exercise, and which +continued ten years, at ten hours a day, will destroy the constitution +of the strongest man. From this hopeless apprenticeship, I passed into +the life of a journeyman, and knew what it was to battle with the world +for myself. How I worked, starved and worked, matters not, for we folks +are born for that kind of thing. But as I sat upon my work-bench, +listening to a book which was read by one of my own brother workmen, I +became aware that I was not only poor, but ignorant; that my body was +not only enslaved, but also my soul.--Therefore, I taught myself to +read; to write; and for three years I have devoted five hours of every +night to study." + +"And are still a shoemaker?" Herman's smooth face was full of quiet +scorn and laughter. + +"I am still a shoemaker--a workman at the bench--because I cannot, +in _conscience_, enter one of the professions called learned.--I +cannot separate myself from that nine-tenths of the human family, who +seem to have been only born to work and die--die in mind, as well as +body--in order to supply the _idle_ tenth with superfluities. Oh! +sir, you, who are so learned and eloquent, could you but read the +thoughts which enter the heart of the poor shoemaker, who, sitting at +his work-bench, in a cramped position, is forced sometimes to reflect +upon his fate!--He beholds the lawyer, with a conscience distinct from +that given to him by God; a conscience that makes him believe that +it is right to grow rich by the tricks and frauds of law. He beholds +the doctor, also with the conscience of his class, sending human +beings to death by system, and filling graveyards by the exact rule +of the schools. He beholds the minister, too often also with but the +_conscience_ of a class, preaching the thoughts of those who do not +work, and failing to give utterance to the agonies of those who do +work--who do all the labor, and suffer all the misery in the world. +And these classes are respected; honored. They are the true noblemen! +Their respectability is shared by the merchant, who grows rich by +distributing the products of labor. But as for the shoemaker--nay, +the workman, of whatever trade--whose labor produces all the physical +_wealth of the world_--who works all life long, and only rests when +his head is in the cold grave,--what of him? He is a serf, a slave, a +Pariah. On the stage no joke is so piquant as the one which is leveled +at the 'tailor,' or the 'cobbler;' in literature, the attempt of an +unknown to elevate himself, is matter for a brutal laugh; and even +grave men like you, when addressed by a man who, like myself, confesses +that he is a--shoemaker! you burst into laughter, as though the master +you profess to serve, was not himself, one day, a workman at the +carpenter's bench." + +"These words are of the French school." Herman gave the word "French" a +withering accent. + +"Did the French school produce the New Testament?" + +Herman did not answer, but fixed his glance upon cupid in the ceiling. + +"But you are educated--why not devote yourself to one of the +professions?" and Herman turned his eyes from cupid in the ceiling, to +Venus in the Shell. + +Dermoyne's face gleamed with a calm seriousness, a deep enthusiasm, +which imparted a new life to every lineament. + +"Because I do not wish to separate myself from the largest portion of +humanity. No, no,--had I the intellect of a Shakspeare, or the religion +of a St. Paul, I would not wish to separate myself from the greater +portion of God's family--those who are born, who work, who die. No, no! +I am waiting--I am waiting!" + +"Waiting?" echoed Herman. + +"Maybe the day will come, when, gifted with wealth, I can enter the +workshops of Philadelphia, and say to the workmen, 'Come, brothers. +Here is CAPITAL. Let us go to the west. Let us find a spot of God's +earth unpolluted by white or black slavery. Let us build a community +where every man shall work with his hands, and where every man will +also have the opportunity to cultivate his mind--to work with his +brain.--There every one will have a place to work, and every one will +receive the fruits of his work. And there,--oh, my God!--there will we, +without priest, or monopolist, or slaveholder, establish in the midst +of a band of brothers, the worship of that Christ who was himself a +workman, even as he is now, the workman's God.'" + +Arthur Dermoyne had started from his chair; his hands were clasped; his +gray eyes were filled with tears. + +"French ideas--French ideas," cried Herman. "You have been reading +French books, young man!" + +Arthur looked at the clergyman, and said quietly: + +"These ideas were held by the German race who settled in Pennsylvania, +in the time of William Penn. Driven, from Germany by the hands of +Protestant priests, they brought with them to the New World, the +'_French ideas_' of the New Testament." + +"The Germans who settled Pennsylvania--a stupid race," observed Herman, +in calm derision; "Look at some of their descendants." + +"The Germans of the present day--or, to speak more distinctly,--the +Pennsylvania Germans, descendants of the old stock, who came over about +the time of Penn, are a _conquered_ race!--" + +"A _conquered_ race?" echoed Herman. + +"_Conquered_ by the English language," continued Dermoyne. "As a mass, +they are not well instructed either in English or in German, and +therefore have no chance to develop, to its fullest extent, the stamina +of their race. They know but little of the real history of their +ancestors, who first brought to Pennsylvania the great truth, that God +is not a God of hatred, pleased with blood, but a God of love, whose +great law is the PROGRESS of all his children,--that is, the entire +family of man, both HERE and HEREAFTER. And the Pennsylvanian Germans +are the scoff and sneer of Yankee swindler and southern braggart; but +the day will come, when the descendants of that race will rise to +their destiny, and even as the farms of Pennsylvania now show their +_physical_ progress, so will the entire American continent bear witness +to their _intellectual_ power. They are of the race of Luther, of +Goethe, and of Schiller,--hard to kill,--the men who can work, and the +men whose work will make a people strong, a nation great and noble." + +"You are of this race?" asked Herman, pulling his cloak gently with his +delicate hand. + +"My father, (I am told, for he died when I was a child,) was a wealthy +farmer, whose wealth was swallowed up by an unjust lawsuit and a +fraudulent bank. My grandfather was a wheelwright; my great-grandfather +a cobbler; my great-great-grandfather a carpenter; and his father, +was a tiller of the field. So you see, I am _nobly_ descended," and a +smile crossed the lips of Dermoyne. "Not a single idler or vagabond +in our family,--all workers, like their Savior,--all men who eat the +bread of honest labor. Ah! I forgot;" he passed his hand over his +forehead--"there was a count in our family. This, I confess, is a +blot upon us; but when you remember that he forsook his countship in +Germany, to become a tiller of the fields in Pennsylvania--about the +year 1680--you will look over the fault of his title." + +Herman burst into a fit of pleasant laughter. + +"You have odd ideas of nobility!" he ejaculated. + +"Odd as the New Testament," said Dermoyne; "and as old. By-the-bye, +this count in our family, was related to the Van Huyden family. (You, +also, are one of the seven?--Yes, your name is among the others.) Ah! +should the 25th of December give into my hands but a few thousand +dollars, I will try and show the world how workmen, united for the +common good, can live and work together." + +"A few thousands!" laughed Herman, displaying himself at full length on +the capacious chair; "why, in case the Seven receive the estate at all, +they will divide among them some twenty, perhaps, forty millions of +dollars!" + +"Forty millions of dollars!" Dermoyne was thunderstruck. He folded his +arms, and gazed upon vacancy with fixed eyes. "My God! what might not +be done with forty millions!"--he paused and stretched forth his hand, +as though a vision of the future dawned upon him. + +"Did Mr. Burney--poor friend!--know that you were a--shoemaker?" Once +more Herman shaded his eyes with his hand, and regarded the young man +with a pleasant smile. + +"He did not," answered Dermoyne. "I became acquainted with him,--it +matters not how,--and visited his house, where, more than once, I have +conversed with his daughter Alice. No, Mr. Burney did me wrong; for +while I was a shoemaker, he persisted, (in ignorance of my character,) +in thinking me--_a gentleman_! A _gentleman_--an idle vagabond, whose +gentility is supported by the labor of honest men.--Faugh!" + +"Well, I must confess," Herman said with a wave of the hand and a +patronizing tone, "that from your manner, gestures, accent, et cetera, +I have always taken you for an educated gentleman. But your principles +are decidedly ungenteel,--allow me the remark." + +Herman began to feel much more at ease. "He does not dream I have any +share in the abduction of Alice!" This thought was comfort and repose +to his mind. + +But Arthur Dermoyne changed the tone of this pleasant dream by a single +question: "Do _you_,--" he fixed his eyes sternly upon the young +minister: "Do YOU know anything of the retreat of Alice Burney?" + +"Do I know anything of the retreat--of--Alice--Burney!" he echoed: +"What a question to ask a man of my cloth!" + +Dermoyne placed his hand within the breast of his coat, and drew forth +ten gold pieces, which he held in the light, in the palm of his hand. + +"Every coin gained by days and nights of work--hard work," he said. +"It has taken me three years to save that sum. When I thought of Alice +as a wife, this little hoard, (such was my fancy,) might enable me to +furnish a good home. Do you understand me, sir? You who receive five +thousand dollars per year for preaching the gospel of your church, can +you comprehend how precious is this fortune of one hundred dollars, to +a poor workman, who earns his bread by sitting in a cramped position, +fourteen hours a day, making shoes?" + +"Well, what have I to do with this money?" + +"You comprehend that these ten gold pieces are as much to me, as a +ten hundred would be to you? These gold pieces will buy books which I +earnestly desire; they will help me to relieve a brother workman who +happens to be poorer than myself; they will help me to go to the far +west, where there is land and home for all. Well, this fortune, I have +dedicated to one purpose: To support me, here in New York, on bread and +water, until I can discover the hiding-place of Alice Burney, and meet +her seducer face to face. How long do you think my gold will furnish me +with bread, while I devote day and night to this purpose?" + +The iron resolution of the young man's face, made the clergyman feel +afraid. + +"You will remark," he exclaimed, stretching himself in his chair, +and contemplating the whiteness of his nails, "that a witness of our +conversation might infer, from the tenor of your discourse, that you +have an idea--an idea--" he hesitated, "that I have something to do +with the abduction of this young lady. Doubtless you do not mean to +convey this impression, and therefore I will thank you to correct the +tone of your remarks." + +Herman was quite lordly. + +"Then you know nothing of the retreat of Alice Burney?" + +"The question is an insult--" + +"Nothing of her seducer?" + +"I repeat it; the question is an insult," and Herman started up in his +chair, with flashing eyes and corrugated brow. + +"Will you swear that you are ignorant of her retreat, and of the name +of her seducer?" coolly continued Dermoyne. + +"Men of my cloth do not swear," as coolly returned Herman. + +"Allow me to congratulate you upon your ignorance," replied Dermoyne, +"for--for;--will you have the goodness to observe me for a moment?" + +While Herman watched him with a wondering eye, the young man replaced +the gold pieces in his pocket, and rising from his chair, surveyed the +room with an attentive gaze. His eye rested at length upon an iron +candlestick, which stood upon a shelf of the library; it was evidently +out of place in that luxurious room; and had been left there through +the forgetfulness of the servant who took care of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin's +study. Dermoyne took this candlestick from the shelf, and then returned +to the light. + +"Do you see this? It is about six inches long and one inch in diameter. +Would it not take a strong man to break that in twain with both hands?" + +Herman took the candlestick; examined it attentively: "It would take a +Sampson," he said. + +"Now look at my hand." Dermoyne extended a hand which, hardened by +labor in the palm, was not so large as it was muscular and bony. + +"What have I to do with your hand?" exclaimed Herman, in evident +disgust. + +"Watch me," said Dermoyne; and, resting the candlestick on his right +hand, he closed his fingers, and pressed his thumb against it. After an +instant he opened his hand again. The iron candlestick was bent nearly +double. Dermoyne had accomplished this feat without the appearance of +exertion. + +"Why, you are a very Hercules!" ejaculated Herman,--"and yet, you are +not above the medium height. You do not look like a strong man." + +"God has invested me with almost superhuman strength," replied +Dermoyne, as he stood erect before the minister, resting one hand upon +the table: "had it not been for that, hard work would have killed me +long ago. I can lift with one hand, a weight, which would task the +strength of almost any two men but to budge; I can strike a blow, +which, properly planted, would fell an ox; I can--" + +"You needn't dilate," interrupted Herman, "the study of the Rev. Dr. +Bulgin is not exactly the place for gymnastic experiments--" + +"Well, you'll see my drift directly," calmly continued Dermoyne--"I +have never dared to use this strength, save in the way of work or +occasional exercise. I regard it as a kind of trust, given to me by +Providence for a good purpose." + +"What purpose, pray?" said Herman, opening his eyes. + +"To punish those criminals whom the law does not punish; to protect +those victims it does not protect," answered Dermoyne, steadily. "Now, +for instance, were I to encounter the seducer of Alice Burney,--were +I to stand face to face with him, as I do with you,--were I to +place my thumb upon his right temple and my fingers upon his left +temple,--thus--" + +"You,--you,--" gasped the minister, who suddenly felt the hand of +Arthur Dermoyne upon his forehead; the thumb pressed gently upon the +right temple and the fingers upon his left--"you,--would,--what?" + +"I would, quietly, without a word, crush his skull as you might crush +an egg-shell," slowly answered Dermoyne. + +He took his hand away. The face of Herman was white as a sheet. He +shook in his velvet chair. For a moment he could not speak. + +"I, therefore, congratulate you, that you know nothing of the matter," +calmly continued Dermoyne, not seeming to notice the fright of the +minister; "for, with a villain like this unknown seducer before me, I +would lose all control over myself, and (ere I was aware of it) I would +have wiped him out of existence. This would be murder, you are about +to remark! So it would. But, is not this seducer a murderer in a three +fold sense? First, he has murdered the chastity of this poor girl; and +second, in the attempt to get rid of the proof of his guilt, he _may_ +(who knows?) murder her body and the body of her unborn child." + +The room was still as the grave, as Dermoyne concluded the last +sentence. + +Barnhurst sank back in the chair, helpless as a child. For a moment his +self-possession deserted him. His guilt was stamped upon his face. + +"Here you can count three murders," continued Dermoyne, not seeming +to notice the dismay of the minister,--"the murder of a woman's +purity,--the murder of her body--the murder of her babe. Now, I don't +pretend to say, that it would be RIGHT for me to kill the three fold +murderer, but I do say, that, were I to meet him, and _know_ his guilt, +that my blood would boil,--my eyes would grow dim,--my hand would be +extended, and in an instant, would hold his mangled skull, between the +thumb and fingers." + +Herman's arms dropped helplessly by his side. He was extended in the +capacious chair, a vivid picture of helpless fright. + +Dermoyne, whose broad chest and bold features, caught on one side the +glow of the light, as he stood erect by the table, gazed upon the +minister with a calm look, and continued-- + +"So, you see, I congratulate you, that you know nothing of the matter--" + +"Oh, I am shocked, shocked," and Herman made out to cover his face with +his hands, "I am shocked, at the vivid, viv-id," he stammered,--"vivid +picture which you have drawn of the crimes of this seducer." + +Dermoyne sank quietly into the chair on the opposite side of the table, +and shaded his eyes with his right hand. He also was _thinking_. + +For a long pause, there was profound stillness. The lamp on the table +shed its luxurious light over the vast room, peopled as it was, with +images of wealth, ease and voluptuousness, and upon the figures of +these men, seated opposite to each other, and each with his eyes shaded +by his hand. + +At length, Herman recovering a portion of his self-possession, +exclaimed without raising his hands from his face: + +"I trust you will end this interview at once. You have given my nerves +a severe shock. To-morrow,--to-morrow,--I will talk to you about the +Van Huyden estate, about which, I presume, you asked this interview." + +Dermoyne raised his hand to his forehead,--somewhat after the manner +of Herman,--and surveyed the clergyman with a keen, searching gaze. +Gradually a smile, so faint as to be scarcely perceptible, stole over +his features. + +Herman felt the force of that gaze and his smooth complexion turned +from deathly white to scarlet, and from scarlet to deathly white again. + +"What next?" he muttered to himself, "does _he_ know? Had I better call +for assistance?" + +Dermoyne, quietly left his seat, and advancing until he confronted +Herman, placed a small piece of paper on the table, and held it firmly +under his thumb, so that the words written upon it, were legible in the +lamp-light. + +"Read that," he said, and his flashing eye was fixed on Barnhurst's +face. + +Half wondering, half stupefied, Barnhurst bent forward and read:-- + + _Dec_. 24, 1844. + + MADAM:--Your _patient_ will come to-night. + + HERMAN BARNHURST. + +As he read, Herman looked like a man who has received his +death-warrant. The very effort,--and it was a mortal one,--which +he made to control himself, only gave a stronger agitation to his +quivering lineaments. + +"Can you tell where I found this?" whispered Dermoyne. "Near the +mangled body of the father of Alice,--at sunset, but a few hours ago, +and at the house half-way between New York and Philadelphia,--there +among the ashes, and half consumed by fire, I discovered this precious +document. Did you drop this paper from your pocket, my friend, when you +sought shelter in the house, after the accident on the railroad, last +night?" + +Herman had not the power to reply. His eyes were riveted by the +half-burned fragment. + +"What has the Rev. Herman Barnhurst, the clergyman, to do with MADAM +RESIMER, _the murderess of unborn children_?" continued Dermoyne; "and +the _patient_,--who is the _patient_? Is it Alice? This letter is dated +the 24th, and to-morrow night, Alice will cross the threshold of that +hell, where THE MADAM rules, as the presiding Devil!" + +A gleam of hope shot across Herman's soul. "He does not know, that +Alice is already in the care of Madam Resimer. Courage,--courage!" + +"Have you no answer?" Dermoyne's eye gleamed with deadly light; still +holding the paper, he advanced a step nearer to the clergyman. + +"Yes, I have an answer!" exclaimed Herman, sinking back in the chair: +"that letter is a forgery." + +Dermoyne was astonished. + +"You never wrote it?" + +"Never,--never!" Herman raised his hands to Heaven,--"it is the work of +some mortal enemy. Beside, were I guilty, is it reasonable to suppose, +that I, a clergyman, would sign my own name to a letter addressed to +Madam Resimer?" + +Dermoyne was puzzled; he glanced from the letter to Barnhurst's face, +and a look of doubt clouded his features. + +"A forgery?" he asked. + +"An infamous forgery!" cried Barnhurst, resuming his dignity. "Now, +that you have wrung my very soul, by an accusation so utterly infamous, +so thoroughly improbable, let me hope that you will--" he pointed to +the door. + +Dermoyne resumed his cap and cloak, first, carefully replacing the +letter in his vest pocket. + +"By to-morrow," he said, in a voice which rang low and distinct +through the apartment, "by to-morrow, I will know the truth of this +matter; and if I discover that this is, indeed, your letter,--if you +have, indeed, dishonored poor Alice, and consigned herself and unborn +babe, to the infernal mercies of Madam Resimer, why then,"--he moved +toward the door, "then there will be one man the less, on the 25th of +December." + +He opened the door, and was gone ere his words had ceased to echo on +the air. + +His parting words rung in the very soul of the clergymen, as his +footsteps died away on the stairs. + +"What an abyss have I escaped!" ejaculated Herman, "exposure, disgrace +and death!" He pressed his scented kerchief over his forehead, and +wiped away the cold sweat which moistened it. "Fool! he little knows +that Alice is already _there_. The Madam is a shrewd woman. Her rooms +are dark, her doors secured by double bolts; her secrets are given to +the keeping of the grave. This miserable idiot, this cobbler, cannot +possibly gain admittance into her mansion? No, no, this thought is +idle. And Alice, poor child, why can't I marry her? Her father's death +will leave her in possession of a handsome fortune,--why can't I marry +her?" + +Too well he knew the _only_ answer to this question. + +"We are all but mortal; she may _die_!" and an expression of remarkable +complacency came over his face. Joining his thumbs and fingers in front +of his breast, he reflected deeply. "But if she survives?" + +His brow became clouded, his lips compressed; all the _vulture_ of his +soul was written on his vulture-like countenance. + +"If she survives!" + +While the light disclosed his slender figure, centered in the scarlet +cushions of the arm-chair, and fell upon his countenance, revealing the +purpose which was written there, Herman still muttered between his set +teeth, the question, "IF she survives?" To him, it was a question of +life and death. + +But his meditations were interrupted by a burst of boisterous laughter. + +"Why Barnhurst! you are grave as an owl. What's the matter, my dear?" + +Herman looked up with a start, and a half-muttered ejaculation. The +Rev. Dr. Bulgin stood before him, his cloak on his arm, and a cap in +his hand. + +"I thought you was out of town?" cried Herman. + +"So I was; a convention of divines, speeches, resolutions, and so +forth, you know. But now I'm in town, and,--such an adventure, my dear +boy! I must tell you of it." + +Before Bulgin tells his adventure, we must look at him. A man of +thirty-five years, with broad shoulders, heavy chest and unwieldy +limbs; a portly man, some would call him, dressed in black, of +course, and with a white cravat about his neck, which was short and +fat. Draggled masses of brownish hair stray, in uneven ends, about +Bulgin's face and ears; that face is round and shiny,--its hue, a +greasy florid,--its brow, broad and low; its eyes large, moist and +oyster-like. In a word, the upper part of Bulgin's head indicates the +man of intellect; the face, the eyes, mouth, nose and all, tell the +story of a nature thoroughly animal,--bestial, would be a truer word. + +That head and face were but too true in their indications. + +Bulgin was, in intellect, something of a god; in real life; in the +gratification of appetite; in habits, strengthened by the growth +of years, he was a beast. It may seem a harsh word, but it is the +only one that suits Bulgin's case. He was a beast. Not a quiet ox, +cropping clover at his ease, nor yet a lordly bull, madly tossing his +horns in the center of a grassy field,--of course, we mean nothing of +the kind,--but a beast on two legs, gifted with a strong intellect +and an immortal soul, and devoting intellect and soul to the full +gratification of his beastly nature. He was, withal, a good-humored +beast. He enjoyed a joke. His laugh was jovial; reminding you of +goblets of wine and suppers of terrapin. His manner was off-hand, +free and easy--out of the pulpit, of course; in the pulpit, no one so +demure, so zealous and pathetic as the Rev. Dr. Bulgin. + +He regarded his ministerial office as a piece of convenient clock-work, +invented some years ago, for the purpose of supplying the masses with +_something to believe_; and men like himself, with a good salary, a +fine house, plenty to eat and drink, fair social position, and free +opportunity for the gratification of every appetite. + +His creed was a part of this clock-work. It was his living. Therefore, +everything that he wrote or uttered, in regard to religion, was true +to his creed; true, eloquent, and breathing the loftiest enthusiasm. +To doubt his creed, was to doubt his living. Therefore, the Rev. +Dr. Bulgin did not doubt his creed, but took it as he found it, and +advocated it with all the energy of his intellectual nature. + +As to any possible appreciation of the Bible, or of that Savior who, +emerging from the shop of a carpenter, came to speak words of hope +to all mankind, and, in especial, to that portion who bear all the +slavery, and do all the work of the world, the Rev. Dr. Bulgin never +troubled himself with thoughts like these; he was above and beyond +them; the Bible and the Savior were, in his estimation, convenient +parts of that convenient clock-work which afforded him the pleasant sum +of five thousand dollars per year. + +To look at the Rev. Dr. Bulgin; to see him stand there, with his +sensual form and swinish face, you would not think that he was the +author of one of the most spiritual works in the world, entitled "Our +Communion with the Spirit." + +To _know_ the Rev. Dr. Bulgin,--to know him when, his stage drapery +laid aside, he appeared the thing he was,--you could, by no means, +imagine that he was the author of an excellent work on "Private Prayer." + +And yet he was no hypocrite; not, at least, in the common sense of the +word. He was an intellectual animal whose utmost hopes were bounded +by the horizon of this world. Beyond this world there was NOTHING. He +was an Atheist. Not an Atheist publishing a paper advocating Atheistic +principles, but an Atheist in the pulpit, professing to preach the +Gospel of Jesus Christ. You may shudder at the thought, but the +Reverend Doctor Bulgin was such a man. + +And just such men, in churches of all kinds,--Protestants and +Catholics, Orthodox and Heterodox,--have these eighteen hundred years +been preaching a clock-work Gospel, leaving unsaid, uncared for, the +true Word of the Master--a Word which says, in one breath, temporal +and spiritual prayers--a Word which enjoins the establishment of the +kingdom of God, _on earth_, in the physical and intellectual welfare of +the greatest portion of mankind. + +Too well these Atheists know that were that Word once boldly uttered, +their high pulpits and magnificent livings would vanish like cobwebs +before the sweeper's broom. + +How much evil have such Atheists accomplished in the course of eighteen +hundred years? + +It will do no harm to think upon this subject, just a little. + +"Herman, my boy, I must tell you of my last adventure," said Bulgin, +dropping into the seat which Dermoyne had lately occupied; "it will +make your mouth water!" He smacked his lips and clapped his hands; the +lips were _oily_, and the hands fat and dumpy. "But, first, you must +tell me what's the matter with you? Anything wrong in your church?" + +"That doesn't trouble me," responded Herman. "True, there is the trial +of the Bishop, and the wrangling of these Low Church fellows, about our +gowns and altars; our views of the sacrament, and our high notions of +the priesthood. These Low Church people are actually _Methodists_. They +would rob the church of all dignity, and turn the priest of the altar +into the ranter of the conventicle,--" + +"We are not troubled with bishops, nor apostolic successions," +interrupted Bulgin: "High and Low Church don't trouble us.--Our +deacons want a minister; they _call_ him and _pay_ him. Now, if our +church admitted of a bishop, I think that--" he put his thumbs in +the arm-holes of his vest, and surveyed his heavy limbs with great +complacency, "that your humble servant would make a--" + +"Bishop?" cried Herman, with a laugh. + +"Ay, and a capital bishop, too, if all be true that these Low Church +fellows say of the Bishop of your church. I am a man of _feeling_, eh, +my boy?" + +This was a home thrust. Notwithstanding his intimacy with Bulgin, +Herman did not regard him as a _real_ priest of _the_ church, but +only as the called teacher of a congregation. Therefore, he felt the +allusion to his bishop the more heavily. + +"You were speaking of an adventure?" suggested Herman, anxious to +change the subject: "What about it?" + +Bulgin flung back his head, and burst into a roar of laughter. + +"I'm laughing at my adventure, not at you, my dear Herman. Just imagine +my case. I have a patient on my hands, who is rich, crippled with a +dozen diseases, and troubled in his mind on some _doctrinal_ point. In +the morning I visit the old gentleman, and after hearing afresh the +list of his diseases, I _soothe_ him on the doctrinal point.--Soothe +him, and quote the Fathers, and fire him up with a word or two about +the Pope. And in the afternoon--" he closed one eye, and looked at +Herman in such a manner, that the latter could not avoid a burst of +laughter, "in the afternoon, while the old man is asleep, I visit his +wife,--young and handsome, and such a love of a woman--and soothe her +mind on another doctrinal point. Sometimes my lessons are prolonged +until evening, and--ha, ha!--I have my hands full, I assure you." + +"You called there to-night, on your way home?" asked Herman, with a +smile. + +"Just to see if the old gentleman was better, and,--but wait a moment," +he rose from his chair, and hurried into the shadows of the room, +turned one of the recesses, between the western windows. There he +remained, until Herman grew impatient. + +"What are you doing," he exclaimed, and as he spoke, Bulgin returned +toward the light, "what is this!" and his eyes opened with a wondering +stare. + +"I'm a cardinal; that is all. The dress of Leo the Tenth, before he +became Pope. Don't you think I _look_ the character?" + +He was attired in a robe of scarlet velvet, which covered his unwieldy +form from the neck to the feet, and enveloped his arms in its +voluminous sleeves. His florid face appeared beneath the broad rim of +a red hat, and upon his broad chest hung a golden chain, to which was +appended a huge golden cross. The costume was of the richest texture, +and gave something of a lordly appearance to the bulky form of the +reverend doctor. + +"I'm a cardinal," said Bulgin with a wink; "There is a nice party of +us, who meet to-night, between twelve and one, to confer upon _grave_ +matters. Every one wears a mask and costume. Will you go with me? There +is the robe of a Jesuit yonder, which will fit you to a hair." + +Herman's eyes flashed, and he started from his chair. + +"The wife of your old _patient_,"--he began. + +"Goes as the cardinal's niece, you know! we didn't know the costume +of a cardinal's niece, and so I told her to wear a dress-coat and +pantaloons. Will you go?" + +Herman's face glowed with the full force of his MONOMANIA. + +"For wine and feasting, I care not," he cried, "but a scene where +beautiful women--" he paused, and fixed his eyes on vacancy, while that +singular monomania shone from his humid eyes, and fired his cheeks with +a vivid glow. "Where are we to go?" he asked. + +"To the TEMPLE," said the Rev. Dr. Bulgin, with his finger on his +light: "You remember the night when we were there?" + +"Remember?" echoed the Rev. Herman Barnhurst, with an accent of +inexpressible rapture: "Can I ever forget?" He strode hastily toward +the recess. "Where is the Jesuit robe?" + +But as he touched the curtain of the recess, he was palsied by a sudden +thought. + +"Ah, this cobbler, this Dermoyne! He will go to Madame Resimer's with +my note in his hand, and pretend to come in my name. He will, at least, +induce her to open the doors, and then force his way into her house. If +he enters there, I am lost." + +Turning to Bulgin, he flung his cloak around him, and took up his cap. +"No, sir, I cannot go with you. Excuse me--I am in a great hurry." + +He hurried to the door, and disappeared ere Bulgin could answer him +with a word. + +"Dermoyne has a half an hour's start of me," muttered Herman, as he +disappeared, "I must be quick, or I am lost." + +"That is cool!" soliloquized Bulgin: "some difficulty about a woman, I +suppose: our young friend must be cautious: _exposure_ in these matters +is fatal." + +Without bestowing another word upon his friend, the Rev. Dr. Bulgin, +attired in the cardinal's hat and robe, sank in the arm-chair, and put +his feet upon the table, and flung back his head, thus presenting one +of the finest pictures of ecclesiastical ease, that ever gratified the +eyes of mortal man. + +He suffered himself to be seduced into the mazes of an enchanting +reverie: + +"Ah, that's my ideal of a man," he suffered his eye to rest upon the +head of Leo the Tenth: "Without a particle of religion to trouble him, +he took care of the spiritual destinies of the world, and at the same +time enjoyed his palace, where the wine was of the choicest, and the +women of the youngest and most beautiful. He _was_ a gentleman. While +poor Martin Luther was giving himself a great deal of trouble about +this worthless world, Leo had a world of his own, within the Vatican, a +world of wit, of wine and beauty. That's my ideal of an ecclesiastic. +Religion, its machinery, and its terrors for the masses,--for +ourselves," he glanced around his splendid room, "something like +_this_, and five thousand a year." + +And the good man shook with laughter. + +"I must be going,"--he rose to his feet--"It's after twelve now, and +before one, I must be at THE TEMPLE." + + * * * * * + +And while Barnhurst, Bulgin and Dermoyne go forth on their respective +ways, let us--although the TEMPLE is very near--gaze upon a scene, by +no means lighted by festal lamps, or perfumed with voluptuous flowers. +Let us descend into the subterranean world, sunken somewhere in the +vicinity of Five Points and the Tombs. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +BELOW FIVE POINTS. + + +It is now the hour of twelve, midnight, on the 23d of December, 1844. + +We are in the region of the Five Points, near the Tombs, whose sullen +walls look still more ominous and gloomy in the wintery starlight. + +Enter the narrow door of the frame-house, which seems toppling to +the ground. You hear the sound of the violin, and by the light of +tallow candles, inserted in tin sconces which are affixed to the +blackened walls, you discover some twenty persons, black, white and +chocolate-colored, of all ages and both sexes, dancing and drinking +together. It is an orgie--an orgie of crime, drunkenness and rags. + +Pass into the next room. By a single light, placed on a table, you +discover the features of three or four gamblers,--not gamblers of the +gentlemanly stamp, who, in luxurious chambers, prolong the game of +"poker" all night long, until the morning breaks, or the champagne +gives out,--but gamblers of a lower stamp, ill-dressed fellows, whose +highest stake is a shilling, and whose favorite beverage is whisky, and +whisky that is only whisky in name, while in fact, it is poison of the +vilest sort--whisky classically called "red-eye." + +Open a scarcely distinguishable door, at the back of the ruffian who +sits at the head of the table. Descend a narrow stairway, or rather +ladder, which lands you in the darkness, some twenty feet below the +level of the street. Then, in the darkness, feel your way along the +passage which turns to the right and left, and from left to right +again, until your senses are utterly bewildered. At length, after +groping your way in the darkness, over an uneven floor, and between +narrow walls; after groping your way you know not how far, you descend +a second ladder, ten feet or more, and find yourself confronted by a +door. You are at least two stories under ground, and all is dark around +you--the sound of voices strikes your ear; but do not be afraid. Find +the latch of the door and push it open. A strange scene confronts you. + +The Black Senate! + +A room or cell, some twenty feet square, is warmed by a small coal +stove, which, heated to a red heat, stands in the center, its pipe +inserted in the low ceiling, and leading you know not where. Around the +stove, by the light of three tallow candles placed upon a packing-box, +are grouped some twenty or thirty persons, who listen attentively to +the words of the gentleman who is seated by the packing-box. + +This gentleman is almost a giant; his chest is broad; his limbs brawny; +and his face, black as the "ace of spades," is in strong contrast with +his white teeth, white eyeballs, white eyebrows, and white wool. He +is a negro, with flat nose, thick lips, and mouth reaching from ear to +ear. His almost giant frame is clad in a sleek suit of blue cloth, and +he wears a cravat of spotless whiteness. + +His auditors are not so fortunate in the way of dress. Of all colors, +from jet black to chocolate-brown, they are clad in all sorts of +costumes, only alike in raggedness and squalor. + +This is the Black Senate, which has met for business to-night, in +this den, two stories under ground. Its deliberations, in point of +decorum, may well compare with some other senates,--one in especial, +where 'Liar!' is occasionally called, fisticuffs exchanged, knives +and pistols drawn; and it embraces representatives from all parts +of the Union. Whether, like another senate, it has its dramatic +characters,--its low clown, melodramatic ruffians, genteel comedian, +and high tragedy hero, remains to be seen. + +The very black gentleman, by the packing-box--book in one hand and +paper and pencil before him--is the speaker of the house. It is our old +acquaintance "ROYAL BILL," lately from South Carolina. + +"The genelman frum Varginny hab de floor," said the speaker, with true +parliamentary politeness. + +The gentleman from Virginia was a six-foot mulatto, dressed in a +ragged coat and trowsers of iron gray. As he rose there was an +evident sensation; white teeth were shown, and "Go in nigga!" uttered +encouragingly by more than one of the colored congressmen. + +"Dis nigga rise to de point ob ordah. Dis nigga am taught a great many +tings by philosopy. One day, in de 'baccy field, dis nigga says to +hisself, says he. 'Dat are pig b'longs to massa, so does dis nigga. Dis +nigga kill dat pig un eat 'um--dat be stealin'? Lordy Moses--no! It +only be puttin' one ting dat b'longs to massa into anoder ting dat also +b'longs to massa:'--dat's philosopy--" + +"S'pose de nigga be caught?" interrupted a colored gentleman, lighting +his pipe at the red-hot stove. + +"_Dat_ wouldn't be philosopy," responded the gentleman from Virginia. +"It ain't philosopy to be caught. On de contrary it am dam foolishness." + +A murmur of assent pervaded the place. + +"Soh, reasonin' from de pig, dis nigga wor taught by philosopy to tink +a great deal--to tink berry much;--and soh, one day de nigga got a kind +o' absen' minded, and walked off, and _forgot to come back_.--Dis nigga +actooaly did." + +"Dat _wor_ philosopy!" said a voice. + +"An' as de nigga is in bad health, he am on his way to Canada, whar +de climate am good for nigga's pulmonaries. An' fur fear de nigga +mought hurt people's feelin', he trabels by night; an' fur fear he +mought be axed questi'n which 'ud trubble him to ansaw, he carries dese +sartificats--" + +He showed his certificates--a revolving pistol and a knife. And each +one of the colored congressmen produced certificates of a similar +character from their rags. + +"Lor', philosopy am a dam good ting!" + +"Don't sweah, nigga!--behabe yesself!" + +"Read us nudder won ob dem good chap'er from de Bible, Mistaw Speakaw," +cried a dark gentleman, addressing old Royal.-"'_Ehud, I hab a message +from God to dee!_' Yah-hah-hah!" + +"Yah-hah-a-what!" chorused the majority of the congress, showing their +teeth and shaking their woolly heads together. + +"Jis tell us som'thin' more about yer ole massa, dat you lick last +night," cried a voice. + +"Dat am an ole story," said old Royal, with dignity. "Suffis it to say, +dat about five o'clock last ebenin', I took massa Harry from de house +whar he'd been licked, de night afore, and tuk him in a carriage and +put 'im aboard de cars at Princeton. I gib him some brandy likewise. +His back was berry sore--" + +Here one of the gentlemen broke in with a parody of a well-known song-- + + "Oh, carry me back to ole Varginny-- + My back am berry sore--" + +He began, in rich Ethiopian bass. + +"Silence nigga!" said old Royal, sternly, yet, showing his white teeth +in a broad grin. "He am in New York at the present time, at de Astor +House, I 'spec'; an' de Bloodhoun' am with him--" + +"De kidnapper!" + +"De nigger-catcher!" + +Cries like these resounded from twenty throats; and by the way in which +knives and pistols were produced and brandished, it was evident that +there was a cordial feeling--almost too cordial--entertained by the +congress, toward our old friend, Bloodhound. + +"To business," said old Royal, surveying the motley crowd. "I hab come +to visit you to-night by d'rection ob _somebody dat you don't know_. It +am ob de last importance dat you all get yesselves out o' dis town to +Canada as quick as de Lord 'ill let you. Darfore I hab provided you wid +dem revolvers,"--he pointed to the pistols, "and derfore I am here, to +send you on yer ways, for de kidnappers am about." + +"Oh, dam de kidnappers!" was the emphatic remark of a dark gentleman; +and it was chorused by the congress unanimously. + +"It am berry easy to say 'dam de kidnappers,'--berry easy to say +dam--dam's a berry short word; but s'pose de kidnapper hab you, and tie +you, and take you down south--eh, nigga? w'at den?" + +But before the gentlemen could reply to this pointed question of old +Royal's, a circumstance took place which put an entire new face upon +the state of affairs. + +The door was burst open, and two persons tumbled into the room, heels +over head. Descending the stairs in the darkness, these persons had +missed their footing, and fell. The door gave way before their united +weight, and they rolled into the room in a style more forcible than +graceful. + +When these persons recovered themselves and rose to their feet, they +found themselves encircled by some thirty uplifted knives,--every knife +grasped by the hand of a brawny negro. And the cry which greeted them +was by no means pleasant to hear:-- + +"Death to the kidnappers!" + +"We're fooled. It's a trap," cried one of the persons--our old friend +Bloodhound. + +"Trap or no trap, I'll cut the heart of the damned nigger that comes +near me," cried the other person, who was none other than our friend +Harry Royalton, of Hill Royal, South Carolina. + +The cloak had fallen from his shoulders, the cap from his brow. He +stood erect, his tall form clad in black, with a gold chain on the +breast, dilating in every muscle. His face, with its large eyes and +bushy whiskers--a face by no means unhandsome, as regards mere _animal_ +beauty--was convulsed with rage. And even as he started to his feet, he +drew a revolver from his belt, and stood at bay, the very picture of +ferocity and desperation. While his right hand grasped the revolver, +his left hand flourished a bowie-knife. Harry Royalton was dangerous. + +By his side was the short, stout figure of the Bloodhound, encased +to his chin in a rough overcoat, and, with his stiff, gray hairs +straggling from beneath his seal-skin cap over his prominent +cheek-bones. His small gray eyes, twinkling under his bushy brows, +glanced around with a look half desperation, half fear. + +And around the twain crowded the negroes, every hand grasping a knife; +every face distorted with hatred; and old Royal, in his sleek blue +dress and white cravat, prominent in that group of black visages and +ragged forms. + +"They've got us! Judas Iscar-i-ot! It's a trap, my boy. We'll have to +cut ourselves loose." + +"Back, you dogs!" shouted Harry, with the attitude and look of command. +"The first one that lays a finger on me I'll blow him to ----!" + +There was a pause of a moment, ere the conflict began. Thirty uplifted +knives, awaited only a look, a gesture, from old Royal. + +That gentleman, grinning until his white teeth were visible almost from +ear to ear, said calmly--"Dis am a revivin' time, wid showers of grace! +Some nigga shut dat door and make 'um fast." + +His words were instantly obeyed; one of the thirty closed the door and +bolted it. + +"Now, massa Harry," said old Royal, grinning and showing the whites +of his eyes, "dis am a fav'oble opportunity fur savin' your poor lost +soul. How you back feel, ole boy? Want a leetle more o' de same sort, +p'raps? S'pose you draw dat trigger? Jis try. Lor a massa, why dere's +enough niggas here to eat you up widout pepper or salt." + +Harry laid his finger on the trigger and fired, at the same moment +stepping suddenly backward, with the intention of planting himself +against the wall. But he forgot the negroes behind him. As he fired, +his heels were tripped up; his ball passed over old Royal's head. Harry +was leveled to the floor, and in an instant old Royal's giant-like +gripe was on his throat. And by his side, wriggling in the grasp +of a huge negro, black as ink, and strong as Hercules, our friend +Bloodhound, rubbed his face against the floor. + +Over and around these central figures gathered the remainder of the +band, filling the den with their shouts-- + +"Death to the dam kidnappers!" + +"Yah-hah! Cut their dam throats!" + +Cries like these, interspersed with frightful howls, filled the place. + +The Bloodhound moaned pitifully; and Harry, with the suffocating gripe +of old Royal on his throat, and his back yet raw from the lashes of the +previous night, could not repress a groan of agony. + +It was a critical moment. + +"Do you know, massa Harry,"--and old Royal bent his face down until +Harry felt his breath upon his cheek--"Do you know, massa Harry, dat +you are not berry far from glory? Kingdom-come am right afore, ole +boy--and you am booked--hah! yah!--wid a through ticket." + +Old Royal, (who had laid down his pistol,) took a knife from one of the +negroes, and, tightening his gripe and pressing his knee more firmly on +Harry's breast, he passed the glittering blade before his eyes. + +"Oh!" groaned Royalton. The groan was wrung from him by intolerable +agony. + +"Let me up--a-h!" cried Bloodhound, in a smothered voice, as his face +was pressed against the hard boards. + +"Death to the dam kidnappers!" + +Old Royalton clenched the knife with his left hand, and placed its +point against Harry's breast. + +"You am bound for glory, massa--" and a negro held a candle over +Harry's face, as old Royal spoke. + +At this critical moment, even as Harry's life hung on a thread, a +violent knocking was heard at the door, and a voice resounded through +its panels-- + +"Old Royal, old Royal, I say! Let me in, quick! quick!" + +"Open the door, nigga. It's massa Harry's brack brudder. Let um in, so +he can see his brudder bound for glory!" + +The door was opened, and Randolph, pale as death, came rushing to the +light. Wrapped in the cloak, which concealed his pistols and knives, +and which hung about his tall form in heavy folds, he advanced with a +footstep at once trembling and eager. + +His pale face was stamped with hatred; his blue eyes shone with +vengeance, as he at a glance beheld the pitiful condition of his +brother. + +"Soh, brother of mine, we have met again!" he cried, in a voice which +was hoarse and deep with the thirst of vengeance. + +"Why, he's whitaw dan his white brudder!" cried the negro who held the +light. + +"Release him," cried Randolph--"Release him, I say! Tie that fellow +there;" he touched Bloodhound with his foot; "close the door. You'll +see a fight worth seeing; a fight between the master and slave, between +brother and brother. Do you hear me, Royal? Let him get up,--" + +"But massa 'Dolph!" hesitated old Royal. + +"Up, I say!" and Randolph flung his cap and cloak to the floor, and +drew two bowie-knives from his belt. "Up, I say! You have heard my +history from old Royal?" he glanced around among the negroes. + +"Yah-hah! an' ob de lashes dat you gib dis dam kidnapper!" said the +negro who held the candle. + +"Then stand by and see us settle our last account," cried Randolph. +"Let him get up, old Royal." + +Old Royal released his hold, and Harry slowly arose to his feet, and +stood face to face with his brother. + +"Good evening, brother," said Randolph. "We have met again, and for the +last time. One of us will not leave this place alive. Take your choice +of knives, brother. I will fight you with my left hand; I swear it by +my mother's name!" + +Harry looked around with a confused glance-- + +"It is easy for you to talk," he said, brushing his hand over his +forehead and eyes, as if in effort to collect his scattered senses. +"Even if I kill you, these niggers will kill me. They will not let me +leave the door alive, even if I master you." + +"Old Royal, you know my history; and you know how this man has treated +me and my sister--his own flesh and blood. Now swear to me, that in +case he is the victor in the contest that is about to take place, you +will let him go from this place free and unharmed?" + +"I--I--swear it massa 'Dolph; I swear it by de Lord!" + +"And you?" Randolph turned to the negroes. + +"We does jist as old Royal says," cried the one who held the candle; +and the rest muttered their assent. + +"Take your choice of knives, brother," said Randolph, as his eyes +shone with deadly light, and his face, already pale, grew perfectly +colorless: "The handles are toward you; take your choice. Remember I am +to fight you with my left hand. You are weak, brother, from the wounds +on your back. With my left hand I will fight and kill you." + +Harry Royalton took one of the knives--they were ivory handled, silver +mounted, and their blades were long, sharp and glittering--and at the +same time surveyed his brother from head to foot. + +"I can kill him," he thought, and smiled; and then said aloud, "I am +ready." + +The negroes formed a circle; old Royal held the light, and the brothers +stood in the center, silently surveying each other, ere the fatal +contest began. Every eye remarked the contrast between their faces. +Harry's face flushed with long-pent-up rage, and Randolph's, pallid as +a corpse, yet with an ominous light in his eyes. Both tall and well +formed; both clad in black, which showed to advantage, their broad +chests and muscular arms; there was, despite the color of their eyes +and hair, some trace of a family likeness in their faces. + +"Come, brother, begin," said Randolph, in a low voice, which was +heard distinctly through the profound stillness. "Remember that +I am your slave, and that when I have killed you, I, with sister +Esther, also your slave, will inherit one seventh of the Van Huyden +estate,--remember how you have lashed and hounded us,--remember the +dying words of our father--and then defend yourself: for I must kill +you, brother. Come!" + +Raising the knife with his left hand, he drew his form to its full +height, and stood on his defense. + +You might have heard a pin drop in that crowded cellar. + +"You damned slave!" shouted Harry, and at the same time, rushed +forward, clutching his knife in his right hand. His face was inflamed +with rage, his eye steady, his hand firm, and the point of his knife +was aimed at his brother's heart. + +The intention was deadly, but the knife never harmed Randolph's heart. +Even as Harry rushed forward, his knees bent under him, and he fell +flat on his face, and the knife dropped from his nerveless fingers. +Overcome by the violence of his emotions, which whirled all the blood +in his body, in a torrent to his head, he had sunk lifeless on the +floor, even as he sprang forward to plunge his knife into his brother's +heart. + +Randolph, who had prepared himself to meet his brother's blow, was +thunderstruck by this unexpected incident. + +"De Lord hab touck him," cried old Royal; "he am dead." + +Dead! At that word, revenge, vengeance, the memory of his wrongs, and +of his brother's baseness, all glided from Randolph's heart, like snow +before the flame. In vain he tried to combat this sudden change of +feeling. Dead! The word struck him to the soul. He dropped his knife, +and sinking on one knee, he placed upon the other the head of his +lifeless brother. Harry's eyes were closed, as if in death; his lips +hung apart, his face was colorless. + +"De Lord hab touck him," again cried old Royal; and his remark was +welcomed by a burst of laughter from the thirty negroes, which broke +upon the breathless stillness, like the yell of so many devils. + +"He is not dead: he has only fainted. Water! water!" cried Randolph. +But he cried in vain. + +"Dis nigga am not agoin' to gib him one drop to cool him parched +tongue," said old Royal, showing his teeth. "What say, niggas?" + +"Not a drop! not a dam drop!" + +Reaching forth his hand, Randolph seized his cap and cloak, and then +started to his feet, with the insensible form of Harry in his arms. +Without a word, he moved to the door. + +"Massa 'Dolph, massa 'Dolph!" shouted old Royal. "By de Lord, you don't +take him from dis place;" and he endeavored to place himself between +Randolph and the door. + +Randolph saw the determination which was written on his face, and saw +the looks and heard the yells of the thirty negroes; and then, without +a word, felled old Royal to the floor. One blow of his right hand, +planted on the negro's breast, struck him down like an ox under the +butcher's ax. When old Royal, mad with rage, rose to his feet again, +Randolph had disappeared--disappeared with his brother, whom he bore in +his arms to upper air. + +"Let's after um," shouted the foremost of the negroes. + +Old Royal stepped to the door, (which Randolph had closed after him,) +but stopped abruptly on the threshold, as if arrested by a sudden +thought. + +"Dis nigga meet you 'gin, massa 'Dolph," he muttered, and then, +pointing to something which was folded up in one corner, he said, +"Dar's game fur you niggas!" + +He pointed to the form of poor Bloodhound, who, tied and gagged, lay +helpless and groaning on the floor. + +It was, perhaps, the most remarkable hour in Bloodhound's life. His +hands and feet tightly bound, a coarse handkerchief wound over his +mouth, and tied behind his neck, he was deprived of the power of speech +or motion. But the power of vision remained. His small gray eyes +twinkled fearfully, as he beheld the faces of the thirty negroes--faces +that were convulsed with rage, resembling not so much the visages of +men as of devils. And he could also hear. He heard the yell from thirty +throats, a yell which was chorused with certain words, mingling his own +name with an emphatic desire for his blood--his life. + +Bloodhound was an old man; his hair was gray with the snows of sixty +years, spent in the practice of all the virtues; but Bloodhound felt +a peculiar sensation gather about his heart, at this most remarkable +moment of his life. + +"Bring forrad de pris'ner," said old Royal, resuming his seat by the +packing-box. "Put 'um on him feet. Take de kankercher from him jaw." + +He was obeyed. Bloodhound stood erect in the center of the group, +his hands and feet tied, but his tongue free. The light, uplifted in +the hand of a brawny negro, fell fully upon his _corded_ face, with +its gray hair, bushy eyebrows, and wide mouth. Bloodhound's hands +shook,--not with cold, for the place was suffocatingly warm,--and +Bloodhound trembled in every atom of his short thick-set body. Glancing +before him, then to the right and left, and then backward over each +shoulder, he saw black faces everywhere, and black hands grasping sharp +knives, confronted him at every turn. + +"You am a berry handsum man," said old Royal, encouragingly. "Jist look +at um, niggas. Do you know de pris'ner?" + +The replies to this query came so fast and thick, that we are unable to +put them all upon paper. + +"He stole me fader!" + +"He took me mother from Fildelfy and sold her down south." + +"He kidnapped my little boy." + +"Dam kidnapper! he stole my wife!" + +"I knows him, I does--he does work for da man dat sells niggas in +Baltimore." + +"Don't you know how he tuk de yaller gal away from Fildelfy, making +b'lieve dat her own fader was a-dyin', and sent for her?" + +Such were a few of the responses to old Royal's question. It was +evident that Bloodhound was _known_. And, although his hair had grown +gray in the practice of all the virtues, it did not give him much +pleasure to find that he was known; for he felt that he was in the +hands of the wicked. + +"Don't hurt me, niggers, don't hurt me! I wasn't after any of you, upon +my word, I wasn't. I've allays been good to the niggers, when I could +get a chance,--don't hurt me!" + +"Oh! we won't go fur to hurt massa, will we niggas?" replied old Royal. + +"O' cos not. Don't tink of sich a ting!! Yah-hah!" + +"You see I've got a child at home," faltered Bloodhound, "that is to +say, two or three of 'em. You wouldn't go to hurt the father of a +family, would you?" + +"Does you know massa, dat you mos' make dis nigga cry," cried old +Royal, with an infernal grin. "Niggas, 'scure dis tear! He am de fader +ob a family, dis good man am." + +Old Royal wiped away a tear,--that is, an imaginary tear,--and then +surveyed the faces of his colored brethren, with a look that turned +Bloodhound's heart to ice. He felt that he was lost. + +"Don't, don't, d-o-n-'-t!" he shrieked, in agony of fear, "d-o-n-'-t!" + +"Why, who's a-touchin' you? Dar am not a single, solitary, blessed +soul, layin' a fingaw on you." + +As old Royal spoke, he made a sign with the thumb and forefinger +of his right hand. It was obeyed by a huge negro who stood behind +Bloodhound,--he struck the wretched man on the back of the head, with +the stock of a revolver,--struck him with all the force of his brawny +arm,--and the hard, dull sound of the blow, was heard distinctly, even +above the fiendish shouts of the negroes. + +"Oh! don't, d-o-n-'-t!" shrieked Bloodhound, as the blood spurted over +his hair and forehead, and even into his eyes; "don't, d-o-n-'-t!" + +Another blow.--from behind,--brought him to his knees. And then the +thirty, or as many as could get near him, closed round him, shouting +and yelling and striking. Every face was distorted with rage; every +hand grasped a knife. Old Royal, who calmly surveyed the scene, saw the +backs and faces of the negroes; saw the knives glittering, as they rose +and fell; but Bloodhound was not to be seen. But his cries were heard, +as he madly grappled with the knives which stabbed him,--for his bonds +had been cut by one of the band,--and these cries, thick and husky, as +though his utterance was choked by blood, would have moved a heart of +stone. But every shriek only seemed to give new fire to the rage of +the negroes; and gathering closer round the miserable man, they lifted +their knives, dripping with his blood, and struck and struck and struck +again, until his cries were stilled. As he uttered the last cry, he +sprang madly into light, for a moment, shook his bloody hands above his +head, and then fell to rise no more. + +You would not have liked to have seen the miserable thing which was +stretched on the floor, in the center of that horrible circle, a +miserable, mangled, shapeless thing, which, only a moment ago, was a +living man. + +"Now genelmen," said old Royal, calmly, "de business bein' done, dis +meetin' stand adjourn till furder ordaw. Niggas, I tink you'd bettaw +cut stick." + + + + +PART THIRD. + +"THROUGH THE SILENT CITY." + +DECEMBER 24, 1844. + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE DEN OF MADAM RESIMER. + + +Yonder, in the still winter night, THE TEMPLE stands, all dark and +sullen without, but bright with festal lights within. Stand here in +the dark, and you will see the guests of the temple come,--now one +by one,--now two by two,--sometimes in parties of four,--and all are +carefully cloaked and masked. They come noiselessly along the dark +street: they glide stealthily up the steps, and beneath the arch of the +gloomy door. A gentle knock,--the door is slightly opened,--a password +is whispered,--and one by one, and two by two, and sometimes in parties +of four, the guests of THE TEMPLE glide over its threshold, and pass +like shadows from the sight. + +Shall we also enter? Not yet. We will wait until the revel is at its +height, and until the masks begin to fall. + +Meanwhile, we will follow the adventures of ARTHUR DERMOYNE. + +About half-past twelve o'clock, Arthur Dermoyne stood in the street, +in front of the house of MADAM RESIMER. Wrapped in his cloak, and with +his cap drawn over his eyes, he stood in the shadows, and gazed fixedly +upon the mansion opposite. It stood in the midst of a crowded street, +joined with houses on either side, and yet it stood alone. Black and +sullen with its closed shutters and somber exterior, it seemed to bear +upon its face the stamp of the infernal crimes which had been committed +within its walls. Lofty mansions lined the street, but their wealthy +occupants little knew the real character of the woman (woman!--fiend +would be a better name) who tenanted the gloomy house. + +With great difficulty,--it matters not how,--Arthur had discovered the +haunt of this murderess. Her name was one of those names which creep +through society like the vague panic which foretells the pestilence; +there were few who did not know that such a person existed, and few +whose hearts did shrink in loathing, from the very mention of her name. +But her haunt, centered in an aristocratic quarter, was comparatively +unknown; only her customers and some of the publishers of newspapers, +with whom she advertised, were aware that the sullen house which stood +in a fashionable street, was the den of MADAM RESIMER. + +That such a creature should exist, and grow rich in the city of New +York, in the middle of the nineteenth century, by the pursuit of a +traffic which, in its incredible infamy, has no name in language, may +well excite the horror of every man and woman with a human heart within +their bosom. + +We read of the female poisoner, and shudder; but console ourselves with +the thought, "These things happened in the dark ages, long ago, when +knowledge was buried, and the human heart was utterly depraved." + +We read in the daily papers the announcement of a wretch that, for a +certain price, she will kill the unborn child,--an announcement made in +plain terms, and paid for as an advertisement,--and we are dumb. It is +the nineteenth century: will not future ages, raking the advertisement +of this infamous woman from some dark corner, guess the awful secrets +of the nineteenth century from that one infernal blot? + +We see a carriage drawn by blooded steeds, whirling through +Broadway; its only occupant a handsomely-attired female. And we +say to ourselves, "There goes the murderess of mother and of the +unborn child--there goes the wretch who thrives by the slaughter +of lost womanhood; who owns a splendid carriage, a fine mansion, +and a magnificent fortune, in the very vortex of a depraved social +world--there goes the instrument of the very vilest crime known in the +annals of Hell." + +These words none of us dare say aloud; we only think of them; and we +shudder as we see them written on paper,--they are so horribly true. + +And as we ask--Why is such a creature _needed_ in the world? Why does +she find _employment_? Why do a hundred such as her, thrive and grow +rich in the large cities? we are forced to accept one of these two +answers: + +1. A bad social state, based upon enormous wealth and enormous +poverty,--a social state which gives to the few the very extravagancies +of luxury, and deprives the countless many of the barest rights and +comforts of life,--finds its natural result in the existence of this +Madam Resimer. + +Or,-- + +2. Human nature is thoroughly depraved. A certain portion of the race +are born to be damned in this world, as well as in the next. Such +creatures as Madam Resimer, are but the proper instruments of that +damnation. + +Upon my soul, good friend, who read this book, these answers are worthy +of some moments of attentive thought. + +Arthur Dermoyne stood in the gloom of that winter midnight,--a midnight +awful and profound, and only deepened in its solemnity, by the clear, +cold light of the wintery stars. A thousand thoughts flitted over his +brain, as he gazed upon the fatal house. Was Alice already a tenant +of that loathsome den? Again and again, he rejected the thought, but +still, it came back upon him, and crept like ice through his veins. +If she was, indeed, _within_ these walls, what might be her fate ere +the morrow's dawn? Arthur could not repress a cry of anguish. A vague +picture of a lost woman, put to death in the dark, by the gripe of a +fiend in human shape, seemed to pass before him, like a shadow from the +other world. + +He surveyed the house. A street-lamp, which stood some paces from it, +shed a faint gleam over its walls, and served to show, that from cellar +to garret, it was closed like a tomb. + +The wealthy tenants of the houses on either hand, had evidently retired +to their beds. Not a gleam of light shone from their many windows. + +The street was profoundly still; a solitary footstep was heard in the +distance; above the roof was the midnight sky and the wintery stars. + +Arthur crossed the street. + +"I remember what the policemen told me, who showed me the way to this +place. Three cellar windows protected by sheet-iron bars; they are +before me. Beyond these windows a cellar filled with rubbish; then a +basement room, where one of the Madam's bullies is in waiting, day and +night, ready to do her bidding." + +The Madam was provided with two bullies, whom she had raked from the +subterranean regions of New York. They were men of immense muscular +strength, with the print of their depraved nature upon their brutal +faces. One was six feet two inches in height; he was known among his +familiars by the succinct name of "DIRK." He used a dirk-knife in his +encounters. The other, short, bony, with broad chest and low legs, was +known as "SLUNG-SHOT." His favorite weapon was a leaden ball attached +to a cord by net-work, with a loop for his wrist. One blow with this +"Slung-Shot," rightly administered, on the temple, would kill the +strongest man. + +These were the Madam's watch-dogs. They formed the police of the +mansion. One slept while the other watched, and when any little +difficulty occurred, they settled the matter _without noise_. Whether +they knew all the secrets of the Madam's mansion, or only regarded it +as one of the many haunts of vulgar infamy, which infest New York, does +not yet appear. + +"Slung-Shot or Dirk, is now on the watch, in the basement room, +next the cellar. Suppose I manage to force the bars of one of these +windows,--I enter the basement room,--am confronted by one of the +bullies. If I escape the dirk and the slung-shot, I may be handed over +to the police, and sent to the Penitentiary on a charge of burglary. In +the latter case, I will remain in the Tombs while the 25th of December +passes, and thus escape all hope of participation in the settlement of +the Van Huyden estate." + +It did not take long for Dermoyne to come to a determination. + +"True, after all, Barnhurst may be innocent, and Madam Resimer may have +nothing to do with the affair. But I cannot remain any longer in this +state of harrowing suspense. I will to work,--and at once." + +For a moment, he surveyed the street, and you may be sure, that his +gaze was keen and anxious. No one was in sight; all was breathlessly +still. + +Arthur drew from beneath his cloak an iron bar, with which he had +provided himself. It was a square bar, about two inches in thickness, +and as many feet in length. Next, fixing his gaze on the central window +of the cellar, he ascertained that it was protected by three upright +bars, separated from each other, by a space of six inches. These bars, +scarcely more than an inch in thickness, were inserted into solid +pieces of granite, which formed the top and base of the window-frame. +Could he displace them from their sockets, by means of the bar which he +carried? + +Again, he glances up and down the street. Not a soul in sight. He +cast an upward glance, over the wall of the house,--still closed in +every shutter, and sullen as a vault. He crouched beside the window +and began to use his iron bar. It required all the force of his almost +supernatural strength, to bend the central bar, but presently it was +accomplished. It yielded and was forced from its sockets. Then, resting +the iron bar which he grasped, against the wall on the left, he forced +the second bar from its socket, and in a few minutes, in a similar +manner, the third yielded to the force of his powerful sinews. The +three fell into the cellar, and produced a crashing sound as they came +into contact with some loose boards. + +Arthur did not hesitate a moment. Grasping the iron bar, and folding +his cloak about his left arm, he crept through the window and descended +into the cellar. All was thick darkness there, but a faint ray came +from the door which opened into the basement room. Trampling over +heaps of rubbish and loose piles of boards, Arthur made his way toward +the door, and did not pause a single moment, but flinging his weight +against its rough boards, he forced the staple which secured it, and +burst it open with a crash. + +Then his features were fixed, his eyes flashed, he clutched the iron +bar, and advancing one step into the basement room, stood ready for the +worst. + +A candle, burning fast toward its socket, stood on a pine table, and +flung its uncertain light over a small room, with cracked ceiling and +rough walls, smeared with whitewash. A coal fire smouldered in a narrow +grate. + +Slung-Shot was there,--not on the watch precisely,--but with his brawny +arms resting on the table, and his head bent on his arms. He was fast +asleep, and snoring vigorously. An empty brandy bottle which stood near +the light, explained the cause of his sleep. Arthur glanced at the +door, which opened on the stairway, and then--"Can I cross the room and +open the door without waking this wretch?" was his thought. + +Slung-Shot, although by no means tall, was evidently a fellow of +muscle, as his broad shoulders, (inclosed in a red flannel shirt) and +his half-bared arms, served to show. His face was buried against the +table, and Arthur could only see the back of his head; his hair closely +cut, his long ears, and the greasy locks which draggled in front of +each ear, were disclosed in the flickering light. + +Arthur, after a moment of hesitation, advanced,--the boards creaked +under his tread,--still the ruffian did not move, but snored on, in a +deep, sonorous bass. Arthur placed his hand on the latch of the door-- + +The ruffian then moved. He raised his sleepy head, and Arthur beheld +that brutal face, with its low forehead, broken nose and projecting +under-jaw. + +"S-a-y," he cried, in that peculiar dialect, which, accompanied by an +elongation of the lower-jaw, forms the _patois_ of a class of ruffians +which infests the large cities, "what de thunder you 'bout?" + +Arthur grasped his iron bar, but stood motionless as stone, awaiting +the assault of the ruffian. + +"Dat you Dirk?" continued Slung-Shot, rolling his eyes with a drunken +stare; "why de thunder don't you let a feller sleep?--" and then came +a round of oaths, uttered in that peculiar dialect, with the lower-jaw +elongated and the head shaking briskly, from side to side. After which +Slung-Shot sank to sleep again. He had mistaken Arthur for his comrade. + +Arthur lifted the latch, and in a moment was ascending the narrow +staircase, which led to the hall on the first floor. At the head of +the stair was a door, which he opened, and found himself on a carpeted +floor, but in utter darkness. + +He could hear the beating of his heart, as pausing in the thick +darkness, he bent his head and listened. + +Not a sound was heard throughout the mansion. + +What should be his next step? Enter the parlor on the first floor or +ascend the stairway? + +"If Alice is concealed within these walls, she must be in one of the +rooms up-stairs," he thought, and felt his way toward the staircase. +Presently, his hand encountered the banisters, and he began cautiously +to ascend to the second floor. Arrived at the head of the stairs, he +stopped again and listened: not a sound was heard. Torn as he was by +suspense, the cold sweat started upon his forehead: he folded his cloak +carefully around his left arm, and grasping the iron bar with his right +hand, he listened once more. The house was as soundless, as though a +human voice or footstep had never been heard within its walls. + +At this moment Arthur was assailed by a terrible doubt-- + +"What if it should be all a dream?--Barnhurst may be innocent, and as +for Alice, she may be at this moment, a hundred miles away! Nay, this +house may be the residence of a peaceful family, and have nothing to do +with Madam Resimer or her crimes--" + +He was shaken by the doubt. Turning in the darkness, he began to +descend the stairs-- + +"Ha! The ruffian in the cellar confirms the story of the policeman who +led me here, and who stated that this was the house of Madam Resimer;" +this thought flashed over him and arrested his steps. "I'll not retreat +until my suspicions are confirmed or put to rest." + +He turned again, and feeling his way up the stairs, and along the hall +of the second floor, he began to ascend the second stairway. At the top +he paused and listened--all was silent--not a whisper, nor the echo of +a sound. Then stretching forth his hand he discovered that at a short +distance beyond the stairway, another staircase led upward to the +fourth floor. He also came to the conclusion, that from near the top of +the stairway, even where he stood, a long and narrow passage led into +some remote part of the mansion. For a moment he was at fault. Should +he ascend the third stairway to the fourth floor, or should he traverse +the long and narrow passage? + +"I will ascend to the fourth floor," he thought, when he was arrested +by a sound. + +Low, very faint, ambiguous in its character, it seemed to proceed from +the extremity of the passage, which branched from the head of the +second staircase. Was it a faint cry for help--a moan of anguish--or +the echo of voices, muffled by thick cowls? + +He had no chance to determine. + +For at the very moment when this sound reached his ears, it was drowned +by another sound. The bell rang through the house, peal after peal, and +died away in a dismal echo. There was a pause; it rang again, and this +time more violently, as though an angry or frenzied hand grasped the +bell-rope.--Another pause, and a light flashed in the face of Dermoyne. +It came from the extremity of the passage at the head of the stairs, +and was held in the hand of a woman, clad in a flowing wrapper, who +advanced along the passage with rapid strides.--Standing at the head of +the second stairway, Dermoyne surveyed her as she approached, and at +a glance, as she came rapidly toward him, beheld her portly form and +florid face. + +That face wore a look of unmistakable chagrin. + +"No time is to be lost--in a moment she will be here," thought +Dermoyne--"can it be Madam Resimer?" + +He advanced and shrouded himself in the darkness of the third stairway. +Near and nearer grew the sound of footsteps-- + +"If she looks this way, as she descends the stairs, I am discovered," +and Dermoyne could distinctly hear the beating of his heart. + +The next moment the rustling of her dress was heard; her heavy strides +resounded as she advanced; and then emerging from the passage, she +reached the top of the second stairway. Her dress brushed Dermoyne, as +he crouched on the first steps of the uppermost stairs; her face was +visible in profile for a single instant. + +"Curse this light, how it flares, and curse that bell--will it never +cease ringing? At such a moment too,--" + +And without once looking behind her, she hurriedly descended the second +stairs. Dermoyne watched her tall form, with its loose gown, flowing +all about her bulky outlines, until she turned the angle of the stairs +and disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +"HERMAN, YOU WILL NOT DESERT ME?" + + +"Now is my time," muttered Dermoyne to himself, and at once he entered +the passage, which branched from the head of the stairs, and led to the +eastern wing of the mansion. How his heart beat, how his blood bounded +in his veins, as he drew near the open door at the extremity of the +passage! + +On the threshold he paused--his form shrouded by the darkness, but the +light from within the room shining upon his forehead--he paused and +took a single glance at the scene which was disclosed to his vision. + +Never till his dying hour shall he forget that scene. + +A small apartment, with windows shut and sealed like the doors of a +sepulcher.--On a small table, amid vials and surgical instruments, +stands a light, whose rays tremble over the bed, which occupied the +greater part of the room. Above the bed, from the darkly papered walls, +smiles a picture of the Virgin Mary, while beneath, by the folds of the +coverlet, you may trace the outlines of a human form. + +Beside the bed stands a slender man dressed in black, with a heavy +pair of gold spectacles on his hooked nose. It is Corkins, the +familiar spirit of the Madam. Corkins, whose slender frame, incased in +black, reminds you of the raven, while his face with top-knot, gold +spectacles, ferret-like eyes, and pointed beard, reminds you of the owl. + +"Bad!" mutters Corkins, "bad!" and he gazes upon the occupant of the +bed, knotting his fingers together like a man who is exceedingly +perplexed. + +The bed and its occupant? Ask us not to picture the full horror of the +sight which Arthur saw (from his place of concealment), as Corkins +gently drew the coverlet aside. + +"Alice!" he did not pronounce the word with his lips, but his heart +uttered it--it was echoed in the depths of his soul. + +He saw the pale face, and the sunny hair, which fell in a flood upon +her bared shoulders. He saw the arms outspread, with the fingers +trembling and working as with the impulse of a spasm. He saw the eyes +which opened with a dead stare, and fixed vaguely upon the ceiling, had +no look of life in their leaden glance. He saw the lips, which were +colorless and almost covered with white foam. And as the sufferer moved +her head, and flung it back upon the pillow, he saw her throat--no +longer white and beautiful--but with swollen veins, writhing with +torture, and starting from the discolored skin. + +Never, never until his last hour can Arthur forget that sight. + +And poor Alice, writhing thus between life and death, talked to herself +in a voice husky and faint, and said certain words that made Arthur's +blood gather in a flood about his heart: + +"Herman, you will not desert me!" she said, and then while the foam was +on her lips, she babbled of her father and home--writhing all the while +in every nerve and vein. + +Arthur entered the room. Corkins turned and beheld him, and uttered a +cry of fright. For at that moment Arthur's face was not a pleasant face +for any man to look upon, much less Corkins. And the iron bar which +Arthur held in his clenched hand, taken into connection with the look +on his face, reminded Corkins of stories which he had read--stories +which told of living men, bruised suddenly to death by such a hand and +such an iron bar. Corkins, therefore, uttered a cry of fright, and in +his terror shook his gold spectacles from his parrot nose. + +"Down," said Arthur, in a low voice, "on your knees,"--he pointed to a +nook of the room, between the foot of the bed and the wall. "Stay there +with your face to the wall." + +Corkins obeyed. Trembling to the corner, he sank on his knees, and +turned his face away from the door and turned toward the wall, there +was such a persuasive eloquence in Arthur's look. + +Then Arthur, still clutching the iron bar, drew near the head of the +bed, and gazed upon Alice. + +Stretching forth her arms, and opening and closing her little hands; +flinging back her head, her eyes fixed upon the same point of the +ceiling, no matter how she writhed--babbling with foaming lips about +her father and her home,--it was one of the saddest sights that ever +man beheld. + +Arthur could not stand it. He turned his face away, and there was a +choking sensation in his throat, and a painful heaving of his chest. +His eyeballs were hot and tearless.--He would have given his life to +shed a single tear. + +But that moment of intolerable anguish was interrupted by the sound of +footsteps resounding from the lower part of the mansion. Madam Resimer +was returning to the room of Alice. + +Arthur at once shrank into the corner where Corkins knelt, and touched +the creature with his foot by way of warning. Then placing himself +against the wall in such a manner that he could not be seen until the +Madam entered the room, he awaited her return. + +Her footsteps are on the stairs, and presently they are heard in the +passage. Arthur, standing bolt upright against the wall, with the +trembling Corkins at his feet, heard the rustling of her dress, as +she came brushing along, with her heavy stride. Then he heard her +voice--she was speaking to some one who accompanied her. + +"There are two," he muttered, and bent his head to listen. He could +distinguish her words: + +"What a foolish fancy!" this was the voice of the Madam, "to think that +any one could gain admittance to my house against my will. Why, my +dear, the idea makes me laugh." + +"Yes, but he's such a desperate ruffian," answered a second voice. + +It was the voice of Rev. Herman Barnhurst. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +HERMAN, ARTHUR, ALICE. + + +"Oh! my God, I thank thee," muttered Arthur, and clutched the iron bar +and crouched closer to the wall. + +And ere a moment passed, the Madam entered the room, followed by +Barnhurst. She held the light, and he advanced toward the bed. + +"It looks rather bad," cried Barnhurst, as he caught sight of the face +of Alice. + +"Why, where has Corkins gone?" cried the Madam, and turning abruptly +she sought for Corkins, and uttered a shriek. At the same instant +Barnhurst raised his eyes from the face of Alice, and fell back against +the wall, as though a bullet had pierced his temple. + +They had at the same instant discovered Dermoyne, who, motionless as +stone, stood against the wall, beside the door, his arms folded, and +his head sunk on his breast. Thus, with his head drooped on his breast, +he raised his eyes and silently surveyed them both, and with the same +glance. + +Not a word was spoken. The Madam, unable to support herself, sank on +the foot of the bed, and Barnhurst, staggered to his feet again, looked +around the room with a visage stamped with guilt and terror. + +Arthur quietly advanced a step, and closed the door of the room. Then +he locked it and put the key in his pocket. + +"What do you mean?" cried the Madam the color rushing into her face. + +"No noise," whispered Arthur, "unless indeed,"--and he smiled in a +way which she understood,--"unless, indeed, you mean to alarm the +neighborhood, and bring the police into the room. Would you like to +have the police examine your house?" + +The Madam bit her red lip, but did not answer. Arthur passed her, and +approached the Rev. Herman Barnhurst. + +"Nay, don't be afraid; I will not hurt you," he whispered, as the +clergyman stretched forth his hands and retreated toward the wall. +"Come, take courage, man,--look there!" + +He pointed to the face of Alice. + +Herman, ashy pale, and shaking in every limb, followed the movement of +Arthur's hand, but did not utter a word. + +"A 'man of your cloth' to be 'suspected'--eh, my friend?" and Arthur, +laughed. "A minister of THE Church, to be suspected of seduction and of +murder? Is it not a lying tongue that dare charge you, Reverend sir, +with such crimes?" + +Here, poor Alice, writhing in the bed, spoke a faint word about father, +and home. + +Barnhurst, cringing against the wall, his smooth complexion changed to +a livid paleness, muttered an incoherent word about "reparation." + +"Oh, you _shall_ make reparation,--never fear; you _shall_ make +reparation," whispered Dermoyne, his eyes fairly blazing with light. +"And you visited her father's house as a minister of God. She heard you +preach in the church, and you talked to her in her home. What words you +said, I know not; but some forty-eight hours ago you took her from her +home; but a few hours have passed since then. The father lies a mangled +corpse somewhere between this house and Philadelphia; and Alice, the +daughter, is before you. Are you not proud of your work, my reverend +friend?" + +Herman's eye glanced from the ominous face of Dermoyne, and then to the +iron bar which he held in his clenched hand,-- + +"You will not--kill--me?" he gasped. + +Arthur was silent. The veins upon his forehead were swollen; his teeth +were locked; his eyes, deep sunken under his down-drawn brows, emitted +a steady and sinister light. He was _thinking_. + +"Kill you?" he said, in a measured voice, which seemed torn, word +by word, through his clenched teeth, from his heart. "Oh, if I +could believe your creed--that eternal vengeance is the only future +punishment for earthly crimes--why, I would kill you, before you could +utter another word. Do you believe that creed? No--wretch! you do not. +You have but preached it as a part of that machinery which manufactures +your salary. But now, wretch! as you stand by the death-bed of your +victim, with the face of her avenger before you, now search your heart, +and answer me--Do you not begin to feel that there is a GOD?" + +It was pitiful to see the poor wretch cringe against the wall, +supporting himself with his hands, which he placed behind his back, +while his head slowly sunk, and his eyes were riveted to the face of +Dermoyne. + +"You will not kill me," he faltered; and, with his left hand, tugged at +his white cravat, for there was a choking sensation at his throat. + +As for the Madam, who stood at the back of Dermoyne, she began to +recover some portion of her self-possession, as a hope flashed upon her +mind: "The handle of the bell is behind Barnhurst," she muttered to +himself; "if he would only touch it, it would resound in the basement, +and call Slung-Shot to our aid." + +And with flashing eyes, the Madam gazed over Dermoyne's shoulder, +watching every movement of the clergyman, and hoping that even in his +fright, he might touch the handle of the bell. That bell communicated +with the basement room; one movement of the handle, and Slung-Shot +would be summoned to the scene. + +However, as Barnhurst cringed against the wall, his hands strayed all +around the handle of the bell, but did not touch it. + +At this crisis, however, the Madam forming suddenly a bold resolution, +strode across the floor and placed her bulky form between Dermoyne and +the clergyman. + +"What do _you_ want _here_, any how?" she said, tossing her head and +placing her arms a-kimbo. "You are neither the brother nor the husband +of this girl. Supposin' you was, what have you to complain of? Haven't +I treated her like my own child? Yes, I've been a mother to her--and +_that is_ a fact." + +Dermoyne, for a moment, paused to admire the cool impudence which +stamped the florid visage of the madam. Her chin projected, her nose +upturned, and her nether lip protruded, she stood there in her flowing +wrapper, with a hand on each side of her waist. + +"Look there," he said quietly, and pointed to the bed, where the poor +girl was stretched in her agony; her hands quivering and her lips +white with foam: "When that poor child entered your house, she was in +the enjoyment of good health. What is she now? Shall I go forth from +this place and bring a physician to testify as to the nature of your +_motherly_ treatment?" + +The Madam retreated from the gaze of the young man, and felt the force +of his words. + +Too well she knew what verdict a physician would pass upon her +treatment of the young girl. + +"The bell-handle is behind you," she whispered, as she passed the +cringing Barnhurst. He did not seem to heed her; but the moment that +she passed him and resumed her former place, he fixed his stupefied +gaze once more upon the visage of Dermoyne. + +As for Dermoyne, for a moment he stood buried in profound thought. The +clergyman trembled closer to the wall as he remarked the livid paleness +of Arthur's face,--the peculiar light in Arthur's eyes. + +Dermoyne, after a moment, advanced and extended his hand--"Come," +he said, and sought to grasp Barnhurst's hands. But, shuddering and +half dead with fright, Herman _crouched_ away from the extended +hand,--crouched and cringed away as though he would bury himself in the +very wall. + +"Come," again repeated Dermoyne, his voice changed and husky. "Come!" +He grasped the hand of the clergyman and dragged him to the bedside. +"Oh, look upon that sight!" he groaned as the tortured girl writhed +before them--"Look upon that sight, and tell me, what fiend of hell +ever, even in thought, planned a deed like this?" + +"Don't kill me, don't, don't!" faltered Herman. + +"This is a strange meeting," continued Dermoyne, with a look that made +Herman's blood run cold; "here we are together, you and I and Alice! +I that loved her better than life, and would have been glad to have +called her by the sacred name of wife. You, that without loving her or +caring for her, save as the instrument of your brutal appetite, have +made her what she is,--have made her what she is, and brought her here +to die in a dark corner, something worse than the death of a dog. And +Alice, poor Alice, who saw you first in the pulpit, and then listened +to you and yielded to you in the home,--her father's home,--Alice lies +before you now. Hark!" + +The poor girl stretched forth her hands, and with the foam still white +upon her livid lips, she said, in her wandering way-- + +"Oh! Herman, dear Herman! it was not _father_ that was hurt, was it? +Oh! are you sure, are you sure?" And then came wandering words about +father, Herman, home, and--her lost condition. There was something too, +about returning to father and asking his forgiveness when the _danger_ +was over. + +"And _you_ desire her death." In his agony, as he uttered these words, +Arthur clutched Herman with a gripe that forced a groan from his lips. +"You who have brought her to _this_,--" he pointed to the bed,--"while +I desire her to live; I, that by her death will become the sole +inheritor of her father's fortune." + +This was a revelation that astounded Herman, half dead as he was, with +terror. + +"The sole inheritor of her father's fortune!" he echoed. + +At this crisis, the Madam darted forward. Arthur saw her hand extended +toward the handle of the bell. + +"Oh! ring by all means," he exclaimed, "ring, my dear Madam; summon +your bullies; we will have as much noise as possible,--perchance, a +fight! And then the police will come and examine the little mysteries +of your mansion. Will you not ring?" + +The Madam's hand dropped to her side, and she slunk back to her former +position, her florid face impressed with an expression which was not, +altogether, one of serenity or joy. + +"You wondered, to-night, why Mr. Burney permitted the poor shoemaker +to visit his house. Let me enlighten you a little. Not many years +ago, an unknown mechanic called upon the rich merchant, in his +library, and proved to the merchant's satisfaction, that he,--the poor +mechanic,--had, in his possession, certain papers which established +the fact that the immense wealth of Mr. Burney had been obtained by a +gross fraud; a fraud which, in a court of law, would disclose itself +in the two-fold shape of _perjury_ and _forgery_. The father of the +mechanic was the victim; Burney, the criminal; the victim had died poor +and broken-hearted; but in the hands of the criminal, the property so +illy-gotten, had swelled into an immense fortune. It was the son of +the victim who, having lived through a friendless orphanage, now came +to Mr. Burney and proved that at any moment he might involve the rich +merchant in disgrace and ruin." + +"Impossible!" ejaculated Barnhurst. + +"The merchant made large offers to the mechanic to obtain his +silence,--believing in the true mercantile way, that every man has +his price, he offered a good round sum, and doubled it the next +moment,--but in vain. The image of his broken-hearted father was before +the mechanic,--he could not banish it,--he had but one purpose, and +that was, to bring the rich man to utter ruin. This purpose was strong +in his heart, when scorning all the offers of the merchant, he rose +from his seat and moved toward the door. But at the door his purpose +was changed. There he was confronted by the face of a happy, sinless +girl,--a girl with all the beauty of a happy, sinless heart, written +upon her young face. At the sight, the mechanic relented. Maddened by +the thirst for a full and bitter revenge, he could destroy the father, +but he had not the heart to destroy the father of that sinless girl. +For,--do you hear me,--it was Alice,--it was Alice,--Alice." + +The long-restrained agony burst forth at last. With her name upon his +lips, he paused,--he buried his face in his hands. + +"Alice, Alice, who lies before you now!" He raised his face again; it +was distorted by agony; it was bathed in tears. + +The clergyman fell on his knees. + +"Don't harm me," he faltered, "I will make reparation." + +"Up! up! don't kneel to me," shrieked Dermoyne, and he dragged the +miserable culprit to his feet. "There's no manner of kneeling or +praying between heaven and hell, that can help you, if that poor +girl dies. I spared her father for her sake, (and to make my silence +perpetual, he made a will, in which he names me as his sole heir, in +case of his daughter's death); I spared her father for her sake, and +can you think that I will spare you,--you who have brought her to a +shame and death like this?" + +He pointed to the bed, and once more the poor girl, writhing in pain, +uttered, in a low, pleading voice, "Herman, Herman, do not, oh! do not +desert me!" + +Dermoyne, at a rapid glance, surveyed the culprit cringing against +the wall,--the florid Madam, who stood apart, her face manifesting +undeniable chagrin,--and then his gaze rested upon Corkins, who, +kneeling in the corner, seemed to have been suddenly stricken dumb. And +as he took that rapid glance, his eyes flashed, his face grew paler, +his bosom heaved, and a world of thought rushed through his brain; and, +in a moment, he had decided upon his course. + +He drew near to the Madam: she could not meet the look which he fixed +upon her face. + +"To-morrow morning, at ten o'clock, I will return to this house," he +said, in a low voice; "I hold you responsible for the life of this +poor girl. Nay, do not speak; not a word from your accursed lips. +Remember!--he drew a step nearer,--to-morrow morning, at ten o'clock, +and--I hold you responsible for the life of Alice Burney." + +The Madam quailed before his glance; for once, her florid face grew +pale. "But how will you obtain entrance into my house?" she thought; +and a faint smile crossed her countenance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE RED BOOK. + + +Dermoyne flung his cloak over his arm, drew his cap over his forehead, +and grasped the iron bar with his right hand. + +"Come with me," he said, in a low voice, to Barnhurst. He drew the key +from his pocket, and led the way to the door. As though fascinated by +his look, Herman followed him,--followed him trembling and with terror +stamped on every line of his face. + +"At ten o'clock, to-morrow morning, remember!" said Dermoyne, turning +his face over his shoulder. He turned the key in the lock, and stood +upon the threshold. "Come with me," he said, quietly, to Barnhurst. +"Nay, take the light and walk before me." + +Herman, with a quivering hand, seized a lighted lamp and led the way +from the room, along the passage. He dared not turn his head. He +heard Dermoyne's footsteps at his back, and shook with fright. "Does +he intend to murder me?" and then he thought of the iron bar; of the +strong hand of Dermoyne; and of his own defenseless head. + +"Herman, don't, don't desert me," muttered Alice, in her delirium, as +they crossed the threshold. + +Dermoyne turned and saw the fixed eyes, the sunny hair, the lips white +with foam; saw the writhing form and the hands clasped madly over the +half-bared bosom; and then he looked no more. + +Along the passage, Herman led the way and down the stairs, Dermoyne +following silently at his heels. Thus they descended to the second +floor. + +"The Madam has a room where she keeps her papers and arranges her most +important affairs. Conduct me there." + +And Herman, scarce knowing what he did, led the way to the small room +in the rear of the second floor,--the small room in which we first +beheld the Madam. He entered, followed by Dermoyne, who carefully +closed the door, and then, at a glance, surveyed the place. It looked +the same as when we first beheld the Madam. The shaded lamp stood on +the desk, describing a brief circle of light around it, while the rest +of the place was vailed in twilight. On the desk was the seal and the +pearl-handled pen, and beside it, was the capacious arm-chair. + +"Come here," said Arthur, still in that low voice, but with the face +unnaturally pale, and the eyes flashing with steady and ominous light; +and he led the way to the desk. Barnhurst obeyed him without a word. + +"To-morrow, at ten o'clock, we will return to this mansion," said +Dermoyne, fixing his eyes upon the affrighted visage of Barnhurst. "We +will return together, and if Alice yet lives, we will go away together; +but," he laid his right hand upon the forehead of the wretch,--or +rather placed his thumb upon the right temple, and his fingers on the +left,--"but, if Alice is dead, I will kill you at her bedside." + +There was a determination in his tone,--in his look,--nay, in the very +pressure of the hand which touched Barnhurst's forehead; which gave a +force to his brief words, that no pen can depict. + +Barnhurst fell on his knees, and his head sank on his breast. He had no +power to frame a word. He appeared conscious that he was in the hands +of his fate. + +"Get up, get up, _my friend_!" and Arthur raised him from his knees and +placed him in a chair. (Now well we know that it would have been more +in accordance with the rules provided for novel writers, for Arthur +to have said, "Arise! villain!" but as he simply said, "Get up, _my +friend_!" applying a singular emphasis to the italicized words: we feel +bound to record his words just as he spoke them). + +"I have a few words to say to you," said Arthur; "there's no use of +your shuddering when I speak to you, and of crying when I touch you. +You must listen to me and listen with all your senses about you. Why, +you were courageous enough to blaspheme God, when you used his religion +as the instrument of that poor girl's ruin: don't be afraid of me." + +"When you leave this place, _my friend_, I will go with you. I will +put no restraint upon your actions; you can go where you please, +but wherever you go, I will go with you. I will not lose sight of +you, until the life or death of Alice Burney is assured. Yes, you +can go where you please, talk with whom you please, sleep, eat, +drink where it suits you, but everywhere _I will go with you_. We +will be together, side by side, until the life or the death of Alice +is certain,--together, always together, like twin souls,--do you +understand, my friend? Until we are assured of the fate of Alice, I +will be your _shadow_? Do you comprehend?" + +Herman _did_ comprehend. The full force of Arthur's determination +crowded upon him, impressing every fiber of his soul. + +"No,--no,--this cannot be," he faltered,--"If you must wreak your +vengeance on me, kill me at once. But, to be thus accompanied, I will +not consent--" + +"Kill you?" and there was a sad smile on Dermoyne's face; "do you +suppose that the mere act of physical death can atone for the moral and +physical death of poor Alice? You commit a wrong, that is murder in a +sense, that the basest physical murder can never equal; and you think +the sacrifice of your life will atone for that wrong? Faugh! If Alice +dies, I will kill you,--be assured of that--I will crush the miserable +life which now beats within your brain,--but, first, I will make you +die a thousand deaths--I will kill you in soul as well as in body--for +every throb which you have made her suffer, you shall render an exact, +a fearful account--yes, before I kill your miserable body, I will kill +you in reputation, in all that makes life dear, in everything that you +hold sacred, or that those with whom you are connected by all or any +ties, hold sacred. To do this, I must _know all about you_, and to know +all about you, I must go with you and be your shadow." + +"Oh, this is infernal!" groaned Barnhurst, dropping his hands +helplessly on his knees, while his head sank back against the chair, +"Have you no mercy?" + +"A preacher appeared as a demi-god, to the eyes of a sinless +girl,--clad in the light of religion, he appeared to her as something +more than mortal--aware of this fact, he passed from the pulpit where +she heard him preach to her father's home, and there dishonored her. +When her dishonor was complete, and a second life throbbed within +her, so far from thinking of hiding her shame under the mantle of an +honorable marriage, he calmly plotted the murder of his victim and her +unborn child. And this preacher now crouches before his executioner, +and falters, 'Have you no mercy?'" + +"But I could not marry her," groaned Barnhurst, "it was impossible! +impossible!" + +"Why?" + +Barnhurst buried his face in his hands, but did not answer. + +"You killed her to save your _reputation_," whispered Arthur, "and now +I have your life and reputation in my grasp. In the name of Alice, I +will use my power. Come! Let us be going. I am ready to attend you." + +He took the hat and cloak of the clergyman, from a chair, (where +Barnhurst had left them before he ascended to the chamber of Alice) and +exclaimed with a low bow-- + +"Your hat and cloak, sir. I am ready." + +Barnhurst rose, trembling and livid,--he placed the hat upon his +sleeked hair, and wound the cloak about his angular form. For a moment +his coward nature seemed stirred, by the extremity of his despair, into +something like courage. His eyes (the dark pupils of which you will +remember covered each eyeball) flashed madly from his _blonde_ visage, +and he gazed from side to side, as if in search of some deadly weapon. +At that moment he was prepared for combat and for murder. + +Dermoyne caught his eye: never lunatic cowered at the sight of his +keeper, as Barnhurst before Dermoyne. + +"It won't do. You haven't the 'pluck,'" sneered Arthur,--"if it was a +weak girl, there's no knowing what you might do; but as it is a man and +an--_executioner_." + +"I am ready," was all that Barnhurst could reply. + +"One moment, dear friend, and I'll be with you," as he spoke, Dermoyne +advanced toward the Madam's Desk. "_I must have a_ PLEDGE _before I +go_." + +Before the preacher had time to analyze the meaning of these words, +Dermoyne, with one blow of the iron bar, had forced the lock of the +Madam's desk. He raised the lid and the light fell upon packages of +letters, neatly folded, and upon a large book, square in shape and +bound in red morocco. + +"The red book!" the words were forced from Barnhurst's lips, as he saw +Arthur raise the volume to the light and rapidly examine its contents. +THE RED BOOK! Well he knew the character of that singular volume! + +"Yes, this will do," said Arthur, as he placed the book under his +cloak. "I wanted a pledge,--that is to say, a _sure hold_ upon the +Madam and her friends. And I have one!" + +He took the clergyman by the arm and they went forth together from the +private chamber,--the holy place--of the Madam. Went forth together, +and descending the stairs, passed in the darkness along the hall. The +key was in the lock of the front door. Arthur turned it, and in a +moment, they passed together over the threshold of that mansion of +crime, and stood in the light of the wintery stars. + +"Who," whispered Arthur, as side by side, and arm in arm, they went +down the dark street, "who to see us walk so lovingly together, would +imagine the real nature of those relations which bind us together?" + +He felt Barnhurst shudder as he held him to his side-- + +"The red book!" ejaculated the clergyman, with accent hard to define, +whether of fear, or wonder, or of horror. + +And by the light of the midnight stars, they went down the dark street +together. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +"WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH HER?" + + +Scarcely had the echo of the front door, ceased to resound through +the mansion, when the Madam entered the holy place from which Arthur +and Herman had just departed. Her step was vigorous and firm, as she +crossed the threshold; her face flashed with mingled rage and triumph. + +"He will return to-morrow at ten o'clock!" she cried, and burst into a +fit of laughter, which shook her voluminous bust,--"there's two ways +of tellin' that story, my duck." (The Madam, as in all her vivacious +moments, grew metaphorical.) "Catch a weasel asleep! Fool who with your +tin 'fip!' I guess I haven't been about in the world all this while, to +be out-generaled by a snip of a boy like that!" + +Louder laughed the Madam, until her bust shook again--and in the midst +of her calm enjoyment she saw--the desk and the broken lock. Her +laughter stopped abruptly. She darted forward, like a tigress rushing +on her prey. She seized the lamp and raised the lid, and saw the +contents of the desk,--packages of letters, mysterious instruments and +singular vials, all,--all,--save the red book. + +The Madam could not believe her eyes. Rapidly she searched the desk, +displacing its contents and researching every nook and corner, but her +efforts were fruitless. There were packages of letters, mysterious +vials, and instruments as mysterious, but,--the red book was not there. + +For the first time in her life, the Madam experienced a sensation of +fear,--unmingled fear,--and for the first time saw ruin open like +a chasm at her very feet. She grew pale, sank helplessly in her +arm-chair, and sat there like a statue,--rather like an image of +imperfectly finished wax-work,--her visage blank as a sheet of paper. + +"Gone,--gone," the words escaped from her lips, "ruined, undone!" + +This state of "unmasterly inactivity" continued, however, but for a +few moments. All at once she bounded from her chair, and a blasphemous +oath escaped--more strictly speaking--shot from her lips. She crossed +the floor, with a heavy stride, gave the bell-rope a violent pull, and +then, hurrying to the door screamed "Corkins! Corkins!" with all her +might. + +"Why don't they come! Fools, asses!" and again, she attacked the +bell-rope, and again, hurried to the door,--"Corkins, Corkins, I say! +Halloo!" + +In a few moments Corkins appeared, his spectacles awry and his +right-hand laid affectionately upon his "goatee." + +"The matter?" + +"Don't stand there starin' at me like a stuck-pig!" was the elegant +reply of the Madam,--"down into the cellar,--quick,--quick! Tell Slung +to come here. Not a word. Go I say!" + +She pushed Corkins out of the room. Then pacing up and down the small +apartment, she awaited his return with an anxiety and suspense, very +much like madness, uttering blasphemous oaths at every step she took. + +Footsteps were heard, and at length, Corkins, dressed in sober black, +appeared once more, leading Slung-Shot by the hand. The ruffian +stumbled into the room, his brutal visage, low forehead, broken nose +and elongated jaw, bearing traces of a recent debauch. Folding his +brawny arms over his red flannel shirt, he gazed sleepily at the Madam, +politely remarking at the same time-- + +"What de thunder's de muss,--s-a-y?" + +"Are you sober?" and the Madam gave Slung a violent shake; "are you +awake?" + +"Old woman," responded Slung, "you better purceed to bisness, and give +us none o' yer jaw. What de yer w-a-n-t? s-a-y!" + +The Madam seized him by the arm. + +"Two men have just left this house. One wears a cap,--the other, a hat. +The one with the cap and cloak is the shortest of the two; and the one +with a cap carries under his cloak a book, bound in red morocco, which +he has just stolen from yonder desk. D'ye hear? I want you to track him +and get back that book at any price; even if you have to--" + +"Fech him up wid dis?" and the ruffian drew a "slung-shot" from the +sleeve of his right arm. + +"Yes, yes; anyhow, or by any means," continued the Madam; "only bring +back the book before morning, and a hundred dollars are yours. D'ye +hear?" + +"A shortish chap with a cap an' cloak," exclaimed Slung; "there's a +good many shortish chaps with caps in this 'ere town, old woman." + +"I have it! I have it!" cried the Madam; and then she conveyed her +instructions to Slung in a slow and measured voice. "Don't you think +you'd know him now?" she exclaimed, when her instructions were complete. + +"Could pick 'im out among a thousand." And the ruffian closed one eye, +and increased the boundless ugliness of his face, by an indescribable +grimace. + +"Go then,--no time's to be lost,--a hundred dollars, you mind;" and she +urged him to the door. He clutched the slung-shot and disappeared. + +Corkins approached and looked the Madam in the face. + +"The red book gone?" he asked, every line of his visage displaying +astonishment and terror. + +"Gone," echoed the Madam, "to be sure it is. Our only hope is in +that ruffian. One well-planted blow with a slung-shot, will kill the +strongest man." + +"The red book gone!" Corkins fairly trembled with affright. Staggering +like a drunken man, he managed to deposit himself in a chair. He took +the gold spectacles from his nose, and wiped them, in an absent way. +"Bad," he muttered. Then passing his hand from his "goatee" to his +top-knot, and from top-knot to "goatee," again he muttered, "The red +book gone! what will become of us?" + +"If it is not recovered before morning, we are done for," cried the +Madam; "that's all. But this is no time for foolin'? Come, sir! stir +your stumps!" + +She took the light and led the way up-stairs, followed by Corkins, who +shook in every fiber; murmuring, at every step, "Gone! gone! The red +book gone!" + +Entering the passage which led to the chamber of Alice, the Madam +paused at the door of that chamber, and pointed to the door of the +closet which (you will remember) was buried under the stairway that led +to the fourth story. + +A faint moan was heard; it came from the chamber of Alice. The Madam +did not heed that moan, but opening the closet door, crossed its +threshold, followed by Corkins. The light disclosed the details of that +small and gloomy place; and glittered brightly upon a mahogany chest or +box which rested on the floor. A mahogany box, with surface polished +like a mirror, and a shape that told at sight of death and the grave. +It was a coffin; and the coffin of that nameless girl who had been +removed from the bed, in the adjoining chamber, in order to make room +for Alice. + +"What,--what--is--to--be--done--with--her?" said Corkins, as he touched +the coffin with his foot. + +Here, for one moment, while Corkins and the Madam stand beside the +coffin, in the lonely closet of the accursed mansion; here, for one +moment, turn your gaze away. Look far through the night, and let your +gaze rest upon the fireside light of yonder New England home. It is a +quiet fireside, in the city of Hartford; and a father and a mother are +sitting there, bewailing the singular absence of their only daughter, +a beautiful girl, the hope and the light of their home; she strangely +disappeared a week ago, and since then, they have heard no signs nor +tidings of her fate. + +And now they are sitting by their desolate fireside; the father choking +down his agony in silent prayer; the mother giving free vent to her +anguish in a flood of tears. And the eyes of father and mother turn +to the daughter's place by the fireside; it is vacant, and forever. +For while they bewail her absence,--while they hope for her return +by morning light,--their daughter rests in the coffin, here, at the +feet of Madam Resimer. Weep, fond mother; choke down your agony with +silent prayer, brave father: but tears nor prayers can never bring your +daughter back again. To-night, she rests in the coffin, at the feet +of Madam Resimer; to-morrow night--Look yonder! A learned doctor is +lecturing for the instruction of his students, and his "subject" lies +on the table before him. That "subject," (Oh! do you see it, father and +mother of the distant New England home,) that "subject" is your only +daughter. + +Verily, the tragedies of actual, every-day life, are more improbable +than the maddest creations of romance. + +"What shall we do with _her_?" again exclaimed Corkins, touching the +coffin with his foot. + +The Madam was troubled. "The red book!" she muttered, in an absent way, +"the red book!" Her mind was evidently wandering. "It must be regained +at any price." + +"But--this--body," interrupted Corkins, tapping the coffin with his +foot. + +"Oh! _this_!" exclaimed the Madam, and a pleasant smile stole over her +face. + +"Oh! as to _this_! we can easily dispose of it. I tell you, Corkins, we +will--" + +But she did not tell Corkins. For, from the adjoining room, came a cry, +so ringing with the emphasis of mortal agony, that even the Madam was +struck with terror, as she heard it. + +Without a word, she led Corkins into the chamber of Alice. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A BRIEF EPISODE. + + +Away from these scenes of darkness and of crime, let us, for a moment, +turn aside and dwell, for a little while, on the fireside ray of a +quiet home. Yes, leaving Arthur and Herman to pursue their way, let us +indulge in a quiet episode: + +It is a neat two-storied dwelling, standing apart from the street, +somewhere in the upper region of the Empire City. Through the drawn +window-curtains, a softened light trembles forth upon the darkness. +Gaze through the curtains, and behold the scene which is disclosed by +the mingled light of the open fire, and of the lamp whose beams are +softened by a clouded shade. + +A young mother sitting beside a cradle, with her baby on her +breast, and a flaxen-haired boy, some three years old, crouching on +the stool at her feet. A very beautiful sight,--save in the eyes +of old bachelors, for whom this work is not written, and who are +affectionately requested to skip this chapter,--a very beautiful +sight, save in the eyes of that class of worn-out profligates, who +never having had a mother or sister, and having spent their lives in +degrading the holiest impulse of our nature, into a bestial appetite, +come, at last, to look upon woman as a mere animal; come, at last, to +sneer with their colorless lips and lack-luster eyes, at the very idea +of a holy chastity, as embodied in the form of a pure woman. Of all the +miserable devils, who crawl upon this earth, the most miserable is that +lower devil, whose heart is foul with pollution at the very mention of +woman. Take my word for it, (and if you look about the world, you'll +find it so,) the man who has not, somewhere about his heart, a high, a +holy ideal of woman,--an ideal hallowing every part of her being, as +mother, sister, wife,--is a vile sort of man, anyhow you choose to look +at him; a very vile man, rotten at the heart, and diffusing moral death +wherever he goes. Avoid such a man;--not as you would the devil, for +the devil is a king to him,--but as you would avoid the last extreme of +depravity, loathsome, not only for its wretchedness, but for its utter +baseness. It's a good rule to go by,--never trust that man who has a +low idea of woman,--trust him not with purse, with confidence, in the +street or over your threshold,--trust him not: his influence is poison; +and the atmosphere which he carries with him, is that of hell. + +It is a quiet room, neatly furnished; a lamp, with a clouded shade, +stands on the table; a piano stands in one corner; the portrait of +the absent father hangs on the wall; a wood fire burns briskly on the +hearth. A very quiet room, full of the atmosphere of home. + +The mother is one of those women whose short stature, round development +of form and limb, clear complexion and abounding joyousness of look, +seem more lovable in the eyes of a certain portion of the masculine +race, than all the stately beauties in the world. Certainly, she was +a pretty woman. Her eyes of clear, deep blue, her lips of cherry red, +harmonized with the hue of her face, her neck and shoulders,--a hue +resembling alabaster, slightly reddened by a glimpse of sunshine. Her +hair rich and flowing, was neatly disposed about the round outlines of +her young face. And in color,----ah, here's the trouble. I see the curl +of your lip and the laugh in your eyes. And in color, her hair was not +black, nor golden, nor brown, nor even auburn. Her hair was red. You +may laugh if it suits you, but her red-hair became her; and this woman +with the red-hair, was one of the prettiest, one of the most lovable +women in the world. (Why is it that a certain class of authors, very +poverty stricken in the way of ideas, always introduce a red-haired +woman in the character of a vixen,--always expect you to laugh at the +very mention of red-hair--in fact, invest the capital of what little +wit they have, in lamentably funny allusions to red-heads, red-hair, +and so forth? Or if they fall in love with a sweet woman, with bright +red-hair, why do these authors, when they make sonnets to the object +of their choice, persist in calling red-hair by the ambiguous name of +_auburn_?) + +And thus, in her quiet home, with her baby on her breast and her boy +at her knee, sat the beautiful woman, with red hair. Sat there, the +very picture of a good mother and a holy wife, lulling her babe to +sleep with a verse from some old-fashioned hymn. Somehow this mother, +centered thus in her quiet home--the blessing of motherhood around and +about her like a baptism,--seems more worthy of reverence and love, +than the entire first circle of the opera, blazing with bright diamonds +and brighter eyes, on a gala night. + +The boy resting one hand on his mother's knee, and looking all the +while into her face, asks in his childish tones, "When will father come +home?" + +"Soon, love, very soon," the mother answers, and resumes the verse of +the old hymn. + +Now, doesn't it strike you that the husband of such a wife, and the +father of such children must be altogether a good man? + +We will see him after awhile, and judge for ourselves. + +Meanwhile, sit alone with your children, and watch for his +coming,--you, simple hearted woman, that know no higher learning, than +the rich intuitions of a mother's love. Your chastity is like a vail of +light, making holy the room in which you watch, with your boy at your +knee, and your baby on your bosom. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THROUGH THE SILENT CITY. + + +It was a strange march which Arthur and Barnhurst, arm in arm, took +through the streets of the Empire City. + +"I am ready to attend you wherever you go," whispered Arthur, as +leaving the den of Madam Resimer, they went down the dark street. + +"But, where shall I go?" was the question that troubled Barnhurst. +"Home?" He shuddered at the thought. Any place but home! "Can I +possibly get rid of him?" Doubtful, exceedingly doubtful; "his arm +is too strong, and he has me in his power in every way. But that +engagement which I have, to meet a person at the hour of four o'clock, +at a peculiar place,--how shall I dispose of it? Shall I fail to keep +it, or shall I make this man a witness of it?" + +Barnhurst was troubled. He knew not what to do. And so arm in arm, they +walked along in silence through a multitude of streets,--streets dark +as grave-vaults, and laid out in old times, with a profound contempt of +right angles--streets walled in with huge warehouses, above whose lofty +roofs, you caught but a glimpse of the midnight stars. + +And so passing along, they came at length upon the Battery, and +caught the keen blast upon their cheeks, as they wandered among the +leafless trees. They heard the roar of the waters, and saw the glorious +bay,--dim and vast,--surging sullenly under the broad sky, dark with +midnight, and yet, glittering with countless stars. A starlight view of +Manhattan bay, from the Battery--it was a sight worth seeing. Herman +and Arthur, standing there alone, looked forth in silence. They could +not see each other's faces, but Arthur felt the incessant horror which +agitated Barnhurst's arm and Barnhurst heard the groan which seemed +wrung from Arthur's very heart. + +For a long time there was silence. Flash on, old midnight, in your +solemn drapery set with stars,--flash on,--you sparkled thus grandly +ten thousand years ago, as you will ten thousand years hence,--what +care you for the agony of these two men, who now with widely different +feelings, stand awed by your sullen splendor! + +"If you've seen enough of this, I guess we'd better go," said Arthur, +mildly, "I am ready to follow you wherever you go." + +Barnhurst silently moved away from the waters, and as they went +among the leafless trees, Dermoyne looked back toward the sounding +waves--looked back yearningly as though unwilling to leave the sight of +them, something there was so tempting in that sight. One plunge and all +is over! + +They came upon Broadway. It was between two and three o'clock in the +morning. I know of nothing in the world so productive of thought, as a +walk along Broadway about three o'clock in the morning. The haunts of +traffic are closed: the great artery of the city is silent as death: +the mad current of life which whirled along it incessantly a few hours +ago, has disappeared; or if there is life upon its broad flag-stones, +it is life of a peculiar character, far different from the life of the +day. And there it spreads before you, under the midnight stars, its +vast extent defined by two lines of light, which, in the far distance +melt into one vague mass of brightness. New York is the Empire City of +the continent and Broadway is the Empire Street of the world. + +If you don't believe it, just walk the length of Broadway on a sunny +day, when it is mad with life and motion,--and then walk it, at night, +and see the kind of life which creeps over its flag-stones under the +light of the stars. + +They took their silent march up Broadway. + +What's this? A huge pile, surrounded by unsightly scaffolding--a huge +Gothic pile, whose foundation is among graves, and whose unfinished +spire already seems to touch the stars? Trinity Church--Trinity Church, +fronting Wall street, as though to watch its worshipers, who scour Wall +street, six days in the week in search of prey, and on the seventh, +come to Trinity to say a rich man's prayer, from a prayer-book bound in +gold. + +And this, what's this? This creature in woman's attire, who glides +along the pavement, now accosting the passer-by in language that sounds +on woman's lips, like the accents of Hell,--and now, throwing her +vail aside, clasps her hands and looks shudderingly around, as though +conscious, that for her, not one heart in all the world, cared one +throb! What's this? That is a woman, friend. A father used to hold her +on his knees, just after the evening prayer was said--a mother used to +bend over her as she slept, and kiss her smiling face, and breathe a +mother's blessing over her sinless darling. But, what is she now? What +does she here alone, out in the cold, dark night? * * * * She is a +tenant of one of the houses owned by Trinity Church. She is out in the +cold, dark night,--the poor blasted thing you see her,--seeking, out of +the hire of her pollution, to swell the revenues of Trinity Church! + +She came toward Arthur and Barnhurst, even as they passed before the +portals of the unfinished church. + +She laid her hand on Arthur's arm, and said to him, words that need not +be written. + +Arthur looked long and steadily into her face. It had been very +beautiful once, but now there was fever in the flaming eyes, and death +in the blue circles beneath them. She had fallen to the lowest deep. + +"Look there!" whispered Arthur to Barnhurst, "she was as happy once as +Alice, and as pure,--that is, as happy and as pure as Alice before you +knew her. What is she now?" + +Barnhurst did not reply. + +Arthur took a silver dollar from his pocket and gave it to the girl. +"Go home," he said, "and God pity you!" + +"Home!" she echoed, and took the dollar with an incredulous look, +and then uttering a strange mad laugh, she went to spend the +dollar,--one-half of it for rum and the other half to pay the rent +which she owed to Trinity Church. + +(Here it occurs to us, to propose three cheers to good old Trinity +Church,--and three more to the Patent Gospel which influences the +actions of its venerable corporation. Hip--hip--hurrah! Hur--, but +somehow the cheering dies away, when one thinks for a minute of the +vast contrast between the Gospel of Trinity Church and the Gospel of +the New Testament. I somehow think we won't cheer any more.) + +Up Broadway they resumed their march, Herman and Arthur, arm in arm, +and silent as the grave. To see them walk so lovingly together, you +would have thought them the best friends in the world. + +What's yonder light, flashing from the window of the fourth story? The +light of a gambling hell, my friend. That light shines upon piles of +gold and upon faces haggard with the tortures of the damned. + +And these half naked forms, crouching in the doorway of yonder +unfinished edifice,--huddling together in their rags, and vainly +endeavoring to keep out the winter's cold. Children,--friendless, +orphaned children. All day long they roam the streets in search of +bread, and at night they sleep together in this luxurious style. + +But we have arrived at the Astor and the Park stretches before us, +the wind moaning among its leafless trees, and its lights glimmering +in a sort of mournful radiance through the gloom. The Park, whose +walks by day and night have been the theater of more tragedies of real +life,--more harrowing agony, hopeless misery, starving despair,--than +you could chronicle in the compass of a thousand volumes. Could these +flag-stones speak, how many histories might they tell--histories of +those, who, mad with the last anguish of despair, have paced these +walks at dead of night, hesitating between crime and suicide, between +the knife of the assassin and the last plunge of the self murderer! + +But at this moment shouts of drunken mirth are heard, opposite +the Astor. Some twenty gay young gentlemen, attired in opera +uniform,--black dress-coat, white vest, white kid gloves,--and +fragrant at once of champagne and cologne, have formed a circle +around the ancient pump, which stands near the Park gate. These gay +young gentlemen, after two hours painful endurance of that refinement +of torture, known as the Italian Opera, have been making a tour of +philosophical observation through the town; they have carried on a +brisk crusade against the watchmen; have drank much champagne at a +"crack" hotel; have tarried awhile in the aristocratic resort of Mr. +Peter Williams, which, as you doubtless know, gives tone and character +to the classic region of the Five Points; and now encircling the pump, +they listen to the eloquent remarks of one of their number, who is +interrupted now and then by rounds of enthusiastic applause. Very +much inebriated, he is seated astride of the pump, which his vivid +imagination transforms into a blooded racer-- + +"Gentlemen," he says, blandly and with a pardonable thickness of +utterance, "if my remarks should seem confused, attribute it to my +position; I am not accustomed to public speaking on horseback. But, +as Congress is now in session, I deem it a duty which I owe to my +constituents, to give my views on--on--on the great Bill for the +Protection of--" + +"Huckleberries!" suggested a voice. + +"Thank the gentleman from Ann-street," continued the speaker, in true +parliamentary style, as he swayed to and fro, on top of the pump; "of +the great Bill for the Protection of Huckleberries! Now, gentlemen," he +continued, suddenly forgetting his huckleberries, "you know they beat +Henry Clay this time by their infernal cry of Texas and Oregon; you +know it!" + +There was a frightful chorus, "We do! we do!" + +"You know how bad we felt when we crossed Cayuga bridge,--Polk on top, +and Clay under,--but, gentlemen, I have a cry for 1848 that will knock +their daylights out of 'em. They shouted Texas and Oregon, and licked +us; but in 1848 we'll give 'em fits with _Clay_ and--JAPAN!" + +"Clay and JAPAN!" was the chorus of the twenty young gentlemen. + +"There's a platform for you, gentlemen! Clay and Japan! We'll give 'em +annexation up to their eyes. Consider, gentlemen, the advantages of +Japan! Separated from the continent by a trifling slip of water, known +as the Pacific ocean. Japan may be considered in the light of a near +neighbor. And then what a delicious campaign we can make, with Japan +on our banner! Nobody I knows anything about her, and we can lie as +we please, without the most remote danger of being found out. Isn't +there something heart-stirring in the very word, JA-PAN? And then, +gentlemen, we'll have 'em; for Japan ain't committed to any of the +leading questions of the day, and we can make all sorts o' pledges to +everybody, and--" + +The orator, in his excitement, swayed too much to one side, and fell +languidly from the pump into the arms of his enthusiastic friends; +and, with three cheers for "Clay and Japan," the party of twenty young +gentlemen went, in a staggering column, to a neighboring _restaurant_, +where--it is presumable--a few bottles more put them, not only into +the humor of annexing Japan, but all Asia in the bargain. Arthur and +Barnhurst had observed this scene from the steps of the Astor. + +"Do you know this is very absurd?" said Barnhurst, pettishly--"this +walking about town all night?" + +"Do you think so?" responded Dermoyne. + +"Then why don't you go home?" + +Home! Barnhurst shuddered at the thought. Home! Anything, anything but +that! + +There was something, too, in the singular gayety of Arthur's tone, +which struck him with more terror than the most boisterous threat. +Underneath this gayety, like floods of burning lava beneath a morning +mist, there rolled and swelled a tide of unfathomable emotion. + +"Let us walk on," said Barnhurst, faintly; and they walked on, arm +in arm--the false clergyman with the very terror of death in his +heart--the poor mechanic with a face immovably calm, but with the fire +of an irrevocable resolution in his eyes. They walked on: up Broadway, +and into the region where sits the sullen Tombs, and through the maze +of streets, where vice and squalor, drunkenness and crime, hold their +grotesque revel all night long. Through the Five Points they walked, +confronted at every step by a desperate or abandoned wretch, their ears +filled with the cries of blasphemy, starvation and mirth,--mirth, that +was very much like the joy of nethermost hell. Into Chatham street they +walked, and up the Bowery, and once more across into Broadway, where +the delicate outlines of Grace Church, with its fairy-like sculpture +work, were dimly visible in the night. Toward the North River, and +through narrow alleys, where human beings were herded together in the +last extreme of misery, they walked; and then into broad streets, whose +splendid mansions, dark without from pavement to roof, were bright +within with rich men's revels,--revels, drunken and foul beyond the +blush of shame. + +It was a strange, sad march, which they took in the silent night, +through the vast Empire City. + +And at every step Arthur gathered the Red Book closer to his side. + +And behind them, in all their march, even from the moment when they +left the Battery, two figures followed closely in their wake--unseen by +Arthur or by Barnhurst,--two figures, tracking every step of their way +with all a bloodhound's stealth and zeal. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +TRINITY CHURCH. + + +At length--it was near the hour of four--they came to the head of Wall +street once more, and paused in front of the portals of unfinished +Trinity. + +"Here you must leave me," cried Barnhurst, in a tone of desperation, "I +have an appointment in this church at the hour of four. Leave me,--at +least for a little while--" + +But Arthur held fast the false clergyman's arm. + +"I will never leave you," he said. "Keep your appointment, I will +witness it. It will be very interesting to know what business it is, +that can bring you to this unfinished church at the hour of four in the +morning." + +Barnhurst set his teeth together in silent rage. + +"You cannot,--cannot,--" he began. + +"Not a word," sternly interrupted Dermoyne. "Go in and keep your +appointment like a man of your word." + +Barnhurst led the way, and they passed under heavy piles of scaffolding +into the dark church. Dark indeed, and unenlivened by a single ray of +light. All around was silent as the grave. The profound stillness was +well calculated to strike the heart with awe, and Arthur and Barnhurst, +as they groped their way along, did not utter a word. + +"Here, near the third pillar, I am to meet him," whispered Barnhurst. + +"Give me your left hand, then; I will conceal myself behind the pillar, +and hold you firmly, while you converse with your friend." + +Herman, in the thick darkness, placed himself against the pillar, and +Dermoyne, firmly grasping his left hand, crept behind it. + +Thus they stood for many minutes, awaiting the approach of Herman's +friend. In the dark and stillness those moments seemed so many ages. + +A bell, striking the hour of four, resounded over the city. + +At length a step was heard, and then a faint cough,-- + +"Are you here?" said a voice; and Dermoyne, from his place of +concealment, beheld a dimly-defined figure approach the third pillar. + +"I am," answered Barnhurst. + +"Who are you?" said the voice of the unknown. + +"I am Herman Barnhurst."--His voice was low but distinct. + +"How shall I know that you are the Barnhurst whom I seek?" asked the +unknown. + +There was a pause. Barnhurst seemed to hesitate: + +"'_The Night of the Tenth of November,_ 1842,'" he said, and his voice +trembled. + +"Right; you are the man," said the unknown. "Did you receive a letter +last evening?" + +"I did,"--and Barnhurst's voice was very faint. + +"How was that letter signed, and to what did it refer?" + +Again Barnhurst hesitated. Arthur felt the hand which he held grow hot +and cold by turns. + +"It was signed by 'THE THREE,"' he replied in a faltering voice--"and +referred to an event which _it assumes_ took place on the night of the +tenth of November, 1842." + +"'_Assumes_!'" echoed the unknown, with a faint laugh. "You think it +an _assumption_, do you? Well, I like that. And the letter requested +you to meet one of the 'Three,' at this place, at the hour of four this +morning; and it concluded by stating that you would hear something of +great interest to yourself in regard to the _events of that night_." + +"It did," faintly responded Barnhurst. "I am here, and--" + +"We will have a little private conversation together. First of all, you +must know that I am one of three persons who take a great interest in +your affairs, and desire to save you from a great deal of trouble. We +watch over you with fraternal anxiety, and do all we can to keep you +out of harm. And on the part of the Three, (whose names you will know +in good time, in case you prove reasonable,) I am deputed to give you a +little good counsel." + +"Good counsel?" + +"Good counsel, was the word. Now, in order to understand this good +counsel, you will understand that the Three are in possession of all +the facts connected with the remarkable event of the _night of the +tenth of November_, 1842. Facts, certified by proof--you comprehend?" + +Herman gave a start, but did not reply. + +"You will, therefore, listen to the good counsel with patience, I doubt +not. To come to the point, then:--You know that the immense property +of Trinity Church, comprising, at a rough guess, one eighth of the +greatest city on the American continent, has been threatened at various +periods by a series of conspiracies, who have given THE CORPORATION +much trouble, and who, more than once, have nearly accomplished its +ruin?" + +"I do," answered Herman; "and these conspiracies have all sprung from +a band of persons, widely dispersed through the United States, and +calling themselves the heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus." + +"Right," continued the unknown. "Anreke Jans, said to be the natural +daughter of a king of Holland, lived on this island about two hundred +years ago. At her death she bequeathed to her children a certain +farm--a farm which at the present time forms the very heart of New +York, and constitutes a great part of the wealth of Trinity Church, +for it is worth countless millions of dollars. Now you are well aware +that it is alleged by the descendants of Anreke Jans, that this farm +was juggled out of the hands of one of their ancestors by a gross +fraud--a fraud worthy of that curse which Scripture pronounces upon the +man who removes his neighbor's land-mark--and that Trinity Church has +only one right to the ownership of said farm, to wit: the right of the +thief and robber?" + +"I am aware of this," responded Herman; "and so powerful have been the +proofs of this fraud, that the Church has, on various occasions, come +near losing the very jewel of all its immense possessions. Only one +course of action has saved it from the heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus--" + +"It has, when nearly driven to the wall, consented to compromise with +the heirs for their claim,--has simply desired in return, a release, +signed by all the heirs,--and then, on the very eve of settlement, it +has managed to buy off one or two of the most prominent heirs. For +instance, Aaron Burr, (who acted for the heirs, some thirty years ago,) +was lulled into silence by the generosity of the Church. She gave him +several valuable tracts of land, which he sold to Astor--" + +The unknown paused for a moment, and then resumed: + +"At the present time, these heirs are preparing a conspiracy, more +desperately energetic than any previous effort. It is certainly the +interest of the Church to foil this conspiracy at all hazards. And we +'THREE' persons, not directly connected with the corporation, think +that we can make it our interest to assist the Church in the final +overthrow of the conspirators. To do this effectually, we require the +assistance of one of the heirs, who will wind himself into the plans of +the conspirators, help the plot to ripen, and help us to _gather it_ +when it is ripe." + +"'One of the heirs?'" muttered Herman. + +"Ay, one of the heirs,--and he must be a man of sense, shrewdness and +undoubted respectability. Now--do you hear me?--you, Herman Barnhurst, +are one of the heirs of Anreke Jans Bogardus." + +There was a pause of profound silence. You might have heard a pin drop, +in the deep stillness of that vast edifice. + +"I am one of the heirs of Anreke Jans," said Herman; "and what then?" + +The voice of the unknown was deep, distinct and imperative: + +"You will assist us in foiling these conspirators. You will assist us +willingly, faithfully, and without reserve. This is the good counsel +which I am deputed to give you." + +"And if I decline?" said Herman, drawing a long breath. + +"You will not decline when you remember the event of the night of the +tenth of November, 1842." + +Dermoyne felt the hand which he clasped tremble in his grasp. + +"Ah!" and Herman drew another long breath. + +"As the Third of the Three, I beg your opinion of my good counsel," +said the unknown. + +"I accept," said Herman, in a husky voice. + +"But we must have some pledge for your fidelity--" + +"Have you not pledge enough," said Herman, bitterly, "if you know the +events of that night--" + +"True; but we require some other little pledge in the way of +collateral--as the money lenders say"--said the unknown, who had +designated himself as "THE THIRD _of the Three_." "In the event of a +certain contingency--a very improbable contingency,--you will inherit +one seventh of the Van Huyden estate--" + +Herman gave a start;--he moved forward suddenly, but was drawn back +against the pillar by the strong grip of Dermoyne: + +"The Van Huyden estate!" he ejaculated in a tone of utter astonishment. + +"I said the Van Huyden estate," continued the Third of the Three,--"and +that should satisfy you that I know all about it. In witness of your +good faith, you will to-morrow make over to us, by our own proper +names, and over your own proper signature, all your right, title and +interest in the Van Huyden estate. The final settlement, you know, +takes place the day after to-morrow. In case you act faithfully to us, +we will restore you your right on the day when, by your assistance, we +have foiled the heirs of Anreke Jans. The good counsel which I have for +you is this:--accept this proposition at once, if you know what is good +for your health, your reputation, your liberty." + +The words of the Third of the Three were succeeded by a dead pause. It +was dark, and the changes of Herman's face could not be seen. A sound +was heard, like a half-suppressed groan. + +"And if I refuse?" he faltered--"if I cast your absurd proposition to +the winds?" + +"Then the _revelation_ of the event of that night, may cast you to the +devil," was the calm reply. + +"At least give me some hours for reflection; let me consider your +proposal." + +"We had thought of this," answered the unknown. "The time is short. +The 25th of December will soon be here. I am authorized to give you +until to-day at mid-day,--that is, you have nearly eight hours for calm +reflection." + +Herman said, after a moment's hesitation, in a low and scarce +perceptible voice,-- + +"Be it so." + +"In case your answer is Yes, you will signify it in this manner"--and +he whispered in the ear of his victim,--whispered a few brief words, +which Herman drank in with all his soul. "Remember, before mid-day, +some seven and a half hours hence." + +"You shall have my answer in the manner specified," said Herman, in an +accent of utter bewilderment. + +"Our interview is at an end," said the Third of the Three. "As we must +not by any chance be seen leaving this place together, I will pass +through the graveyard, while you go out at the main door. Good night." + +And leaving the miserable man, who sank back against the pillar for +support, the Third of the Three passed from the shadows, out into the +graveyard, where white tombstones appeared in the starlight, mingled +with piles of lumber and heaps of building stone. + +As he came into the starlight, it might be seen that he was a short +thick-set man, clad in a dark over-coat, whose upturned collar hid the +low part of his visage, while his hat, drawn low over his brows, masked +the upper portion of his face. He chuckled to himself as he picked his +way among the heaps of lumber and scattered masses of building stone: + +"It is a nice game, any how you choose to look at it. The heirs of +Anreke Jans can be played against the Church; this man Herman can be +played against the heirs, and the Three can dictate terms to both +parties, and decide the game. And when the Three have won, why then +the Third of the Three can hold the First and Second in his power; +especially, if this man's chance of the seventh of the Van Huyden +estate is transferred to the Third, by his own proper name. Well, +well; law, properly understood, is the science of pulling wool over +other people's eyes: eloquent speeches in court, and the name of a big +practice, may do for some people; but give me one of these nice little +cases, which lie sequestered from the public view, quiet as an oyster +in his bed, and as juicy!" + +Thus you see that the Third of the Three was a philosopher. He paused +before a marble slab, over which he bent, tracing with difficulty the +inscription, which was in quaint characters, much worn by time--"VAN +HUYDEN." + +"Strange enough! Just as we were about to search the tomb last +night,[1] to be interrupted and scared from our object by a +circumstance so unusual! The snug sum of $200,000, in plate, buried in +a coffin!--an odd kind of sub-treasury! Wonder if there's any truth in +the legend?" + +[1] See Episode, page 114 of the Empire City. + +As the gentleman thus soliloquized he fixed his eyes attentively upon +the slab; but he did not see the approach of a man, wrapped in the +thick folds of a cloak, and with a broad-brimmed hat over his brow,--a +man who came noiselessly from the shadows and took his place at the +opposite extremity of the slab, quietly folding his arms, as he fixed +his gaze upon the Third of the Three. + +A wild sort of picture this: The gloomy church-yard, with its leafless +trees, and tombstones half hidden among heaps of timber and of +stone. Yonder, the church, looking like the grotesque creation of an +enchanter's power, as hidden among uncouth scaffolding, it rises vague +and shapeless into the sky. And here, by the tomb of the Van Huydens, +two figures,--the Third of Three, who, in a deep revery, fixes his eyes +upon the inscription--and the cloaked figure, whose steady gaze is +centered upon the absent-minded gentleman. + +"Two hundred thousand buried in a coffin,"--soliloquized "the +Third,"--"I wonder if I could not make a little search. The place is +quiet,--no watchman near--" + +"Liar!" said a voice, in tones deep as the sound of an organ. "Learn +that the Watcher always guards the vault of the Van Huydens:--learn +that it is sacrilege to rob the dead." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE END OF THE MARCH. + + +As Dermoyne led Barnhurst forth into the open air, the false clergyman +staggered like a drunken man. His tall and angular form shook like a +reed; and Arthur, catching a glimpse of his countenance, saw that it +was livid and distorted in every feature. + +"Do with me what you will," he said in broken accents. "The worst has +come.--I do not care! Come; at last, you shall go home with me. Home!" + +He turned his steps up Broadway, leaning his weight on Arthur's arm as +he staggered along. + +Terrible as had been the crimes of the wretch, Arthur pitied him. For a +moment, only; for the dying cry of Alice was in his ear. + +"Your punishment begins," he whispered. + +And thus, up Broadway, they resumed their march through the city. + +They had not gone many paces from the church, when two forms sprang +suddenly from the shadows of the scaffolding, both clad in dark +overcoats, with caps drawn over their faces. They were the forms of +those unknown persons who had followed Arthur and Barnhurst from the +Battery over the city. One was lean, tall and sinewy in form; his +quick, active, stealthy step, resembled the step of an Indian. The +other was short and thick set, with broad chest and bow-legs. + +"Did yer see der Red Book, Dirk?" + +"O' coss I did; as he come out o' der church, his cloak opened, and I +seed 'um under his arm. O' coss I did, Slung." + +We cannot give any just idea of the peculiar _patois_ of these +delightful specimens of the civilized savages. + +"Travel's der word," said Slung. + +"O' coss it is: an' if we ketch 'um in a dark alley, or round a sharp +corner, won't we smash his daylights in!" + +And the one with his hand on his knife, concealed in the pocket of his +overcoat, and the other with the cord of the slung-shot wound about his +wrist, they resumed their hunt in the track of Dermoyne. + +Unconscious of the danger which strode stealthily in his wake, Dermoyne +clasped the Red Book to his side with one arm, and with the other +supported the form of the trembling Barnhurst. + +"Yes, we'll go home," muttered the false clergyman--"Home!" He +pronounced the word with a singular emphasis, like a man half bereft of +his senses. "You can work your vengeance on me there, for the worst has +come." + +Then, for a long time, they pursued their way in silence, turning +toward the East River, as they drew near the head of Broadway. + +As he drew near his destination--near the end of his singular march,--a +wild hope agitated the heart of the wretched man, half stupefied as he +was by despair. It was his last hope. + +"This man has feeling," he thought, "and I will try him." + +They stood, at length, in the hall of a quiet mansion, the hanging lamp +above their heads shedding its waving light into their faces. Barnhurst +had entered the door by a night key, forgetting, in his agitation, to +close it after him. Arthur dropped his arm, and they confronted each +other, surveying each other's faces for the first time in four long +hours. + +It was a singular sight. Both lividly pale, and with the fire of widely +contrasted emotions, giving new fire to their gaze, they silently +regarded each other. The tall and angular form of the clergyman was in +contrast with the compact figure of the mechanic: and Herman's visage, +singular eyes, aquiline nose, bland complexion, and hair sleekly +disposed behind the ears, was altogether different from the face of the +mechanic:--bold forehead, surmounted by masses of brown hair, short and +curling--clear gray eyes, wide mouth, with firm lips, and round and +massive chin; you might read the vast difference between their minds in +their widely contrasted faces. + +"Well, I am--home," said Barnhurst, with a smile hard to define. + +"I will sleep in your room," answered Arthur, quietly. "To-morrow, at +ten, we go together to that house." + +"Let us retire, then," answered Herman. The hanging lamp lighted the +stairway, and disclosed the door at its head. + +Herman, with the hand of Arthur on his arm, led the way up the +staircase, and paused for a moment at the door. He bent his head as +if to listen for the echo of a sound, but no sound was heard. Herman +gently opened the door, and entered--followed by Arthur--a spacious +chamber, dimly lighted by a taper on the mantle. + +"Hush!" said Herman, and pointed to a small couch, on which a boy of +some three years was sleeping; his rosy face, ruffled by a smile, and +his hair lying in thick curls all about his snow-white forehead. + +"Hush!" again said Herman, and pointed to a curtained bed. A beautiful +woman was sleeping there, with her sleeping infant cradled on her arm. +The faces of the mother and babe, laid close together on the pillow, +looked very beautiful--almost holy--in the soft mysterious light. + +"My wife! my children!" gasped Herman. As he spoke, the agitation of +his face was horrible to look upon. + +Dermoyne felt his heart leap to his throat. He could not convince +himself that it was not a dream. Again and again he turned from the +face of Barnhurst to the rosy boy on the couch--to the beautiful mother +and her babe, resting there in the half-broken shadows of the curtained +bed,--and felt his knees tremble and his heart leap to his throat. + +And in contrast with this scene of holy peace,--a pure mother, sleeping +in the marriage chamber with her children,--came up before him, Alice, +and her bed of torture in the den of Madam Resimer. + +"This,--this," gasped Barnhurst, "this is why I couldn't marry Alice!" + +Arthur was convulsed by opposing emotions. + +"Devil!" he uttered with set teeth and clenched hands,--"and with a +wife and children like these, you could still plot the ruin of poor +Alice!" + +"Husband," said the wife, as she awoke from her sleep--"have you come +at last? I waited for you so long!" + + * * * * * + +Leave we this scene, and retrace our steps. The revel in THE TEMPLE is +at the highest. The masks begin to fall. Hark! to the whispers which +mingle softly with the clinking of champagne glasses. By all means let +us enter THE TEMPLE. + + + + +PART FOURTH. + +IN THE TEMPLE. + +FROM MIDNIGHT UNTIL DAWN. + +DECEMBER 24, 1844. + + +CHAPTER I. + +IN THE TEMPLE--THE CENTRAL CHAMBER. + + +It was two o'clock on the morning of the 24th of December, 1844, +when Frank led Nameless over the threshold of a magnificent but +dimly-lighted hall. + +Attired in black velvet, the golden cross upon her breast, and with +a white vail falling like a snowflake over her face and raven hair, +she pressed his hand and led him forward to the light. You cannot, by +the changes of his countenance, trace the emotions now busy at his +heart; for his face is concealed by a mask; a cap, with a drooping +plume, shades his brow; his form is attired in a tunic of black velvet, +gathered to his waist by a scarlet sash; a falling collar discloses his +throat; and there is a white cross upon his breast, suspended from his +neck by a golden chain. His brown hair, no longer wild and matted, but +carefully arranged by a woman's hand, falls in glossy masses to his +shoulders. + +"Stand here, my knight of the white cross, and observe some of the +mysteries of our Temple." + +For a moment she raised her vail, and her dark eyes emitted rays of +magnetic fire, and the pressure of her hand made the blood bound in +every vein. + +They stood by a marble pillar, near a table on which was placed a lamp +with a clouded shade,--a table loaded with fruits and flowers, with +goblets and with bottles of rich old wine. + +Nameless could not repress an ejaculation as he surveyed the scene. + +"I am in a dream!" he said. + +A vast and dimly-lighted hall, broken by a range of marble columns; +pictures and mirrors flashing and glowing along the lofty walls; and +the very air imbued with the breath of summer, the fragrance of freshly +gathered flowers. Near every column was placed a table, covered with +fruit and flowers, with goblets and bottles of rich old wine; and on +every table, a lamp with a clouded shade shed around a light at once +dim, mysterious and voluptuous. And the mirrors reflected the scene, +amid whose silent magnificence Frank and Nameless stood alone. + +"Not in a dream, but in the central chamber of the Temple," she +whispered. "Here, shut out from the world by thick walls, the guests +of the Temple assemble at dead of night, and create for themselves a +sort of fairy world, far different from the world which you see at the +church or opera, or even on Broadway on a sunshiny day." + +There was a touch of mockery in her tone as she spoke. + +"But do not these guests, as you call them, know each other?" whispered +Nameless. "Do not those who mingle in the orgie of the night, recognize +each other when they meet by daylight?" + +"Every _aristocratic_ gentleman knows the _aristocratic_ lady, who +meets him within these walls," replied Frank. "Beyond that nothing is +known. A mask, a convenient costume, hides ever face and form. They +all, however, know the Queen of the Temple,"--she placed her hand upon +her breast; "and the password, without which no one can cross the +threshold of this house, is issued by the Queen of the Temple." + +"Queen of the Temple?" echoed Nameless. + +"Yes, Queen of the Temple! A Queen who rules by midnight--and the +temple of whose power,--gay, voluptuous, flower-crowned, as you see +it,--is founded upon pollution and death." + +She paused; and Nameless saw her bosom heave, and heard the sigh which +escaped from her lips. + +"But this night past, you will bid adieu to scenes like this forever?" +whispered Nameless. "You remember your pledge?" + +She gently raised the vail; her countenance, in all its impassioned +loveliness, lay open to his gaze. Her eyes flashed brightly, vividly, +although wet with tears. + +"Yes," she responded in a whisper. "This night past, I will bid +adieu to scenes like this forever!" and she drew him gently to her +bosom.--"Your life has been dark--mine dark and criminal. But there +is hope for us, Gulian--hope beyond these walls, where pollution is +masked in flowers,--hope in some far distant scene, where, unclogged by +the dark memories of the past, we will begin life anew, and seek the +blessing of God, in a career of faith, of self-denial!" + +"And then, Frank," said Nameless,--"should wealth ever be ours, we will +devote it to the redemption of those who have suffered like us, and +like us fallen." + +At this moment, a burst of music, from an adjoining chamber, floated +through the vast and shadowy hall. And then the sound of dancing, +mingled with the music--and now and then the music and the dance were +interrupted by the echo of joyous voices. + +"'The guests of the Temple' are dancing in the Banquet Chamber," said +Frank. "Masked and vailed, shut out from the world by impenetrable +walls, they are commencing one of those orgies, which awoke the echoes +of the Vatican, in the days of Pope Borgia." + +A curtain was thrust aside,--a momentary blaze of light rushed into +the vast hall,--and masked and vailed, the "guests of the Temple" came +pouring into the place. + +"Stand here and observe them," whispered Frank. + +"A strange and motley throng!" returned Nameless, in a whisper. "Are we +indeed in New York, in the nineteenth century?--or is it in Rome, in +the days of the Borgias?" + +And for a few moments, he stood side by side with Frank, in the +shadow of the central pillar, watching the scene in dumb amazement. +Walking, two by two--some forty men and women in all--the guests glided +through the voluptuous light--and shadow, no less voluptuous--of the +central chamber. It was, indeed, a strange and motley crowd! Popes +and cardinals, and monks and nuns, mingled with knights, caliphs +and dancing girls. The effect of their rich and varied costumes, +deepened by the soft light, was impressive, dazzling. A pope led a +dancing girl by the hand--a Christian knight encircled the slender +waist of a houri, a stately cardinal discoursed in low tones with a +staid quakeress, whose enticing form lost none of its charms in her +severely neat attire; and the grand Caliph Haroun Alraschid, unawed by +the precepts of the prophet, supported a vailed abbess, on his royal +arm. Contrasts like these glided among the pillars--now in light, now +in shadow; echoes of softly whispered conversation filled the hall +with a musical murmur; and the mirrors along the walls reflected the +pictures--the tables, loaded with viands and flowers--the rich variety +of costume--the pillars of white marble--the light and shadow, which +gave new witchery to the scene. + +There were certain of the maskers who, in an especial manner, riveted +the attention of Nameless. + +A man of stately presence and royal stride, attired in a tunic of +purple silk, with an outer tunic of scarlet velvet, edged with white +ermine--hose, also of scarlet--and shoes fastened with diamond buckles. +Even had the mask failed to hide his face, it would have been concealed +by the cluster of snowy plumes which nodded from his jeweled coronet. + +"Behold Roderick Borgia!" whispered Frank, as the masked passed along +with his stately stride. + +"And the lady who leans upon his arm?" + +"Lucretia Borgia!" + +Lucretia was masked, but the mask which hid the beauty of her face, +could not conceal the richness of her dark hair, which contrasted so +vividly with the whiteness of her neck and shoulders. A single lily +bloomed in solitary loveliness in the blackness of her hair; her form +was encased in a white robe, which adapting itself in easy folds to the +shape of her noble bust, is girded lightly to her waist by a scarlet +scarf. From the wide sleeve, (edged like the skirt with scarlet), you +catch a glimpse of a magnificent hand and arm. + +"Worthy, my dear Lucretia, to rule hearts by your beauty and empires by +your intellect!" said Roderick. + +"Ah, your holiness flatters," was the whispered reply. + +"Her shape, indeed, is worthy of Lucretia Borgia," said Frank, as +Roderick Borgia and his daughter passed by the central pillar, and +disappeared in the shadows. + +"Does she inherit the morals as well as the beauty of the woman-fiend +whose name she bears?" + +Ere Frank could reply, another couple, arm in arm, approached the +central pillar. A bulky cardinal in a scarlet hat and robe, holding +by the arm a slender youth attired in modern style, in frock coat and +trowsers of blue cloth,--the trowsers displaying limbs of unrivaled +symmetry, and the frock coat buttoned to the throat over an all +too-prominent bust. The cardinal wore a golden cross on his brawny +chest, and the brown hair of the slender-waisted youth was gathered +neatly beneath a velvet cap, surmounted by a single snowy plume. It was +pleasant to note the affection which existed between the grave cardinal +and his youthful friend! Not satisfied with suffering the head of the +graceful boy to repose on his shoulder, the cardinal encircled that +slender waist with his flowing scarlet sleeve! And thus whispering +softly-- + +"Dearest Julia!" said the cardinal, "what think you of that _doctrinal_ +point?" + +"Dearest doctor! what if my husband knew?" softly replied the youth. + +They passed by the central pillar, from the light into the shadow. + +"How name you these?" asked Nameless. + +"Leo, the Tenth, and his nephew," was the answer of Frank,--"but see +here! A monk and nun!" + +The monk was tall; his hood and robe fashioned of white cloth bordered +with red; the hood concealed his face, and the robe fell in easy folds +from his shoulders to his sandaled feet. The nun was attired in a hood +and robe of snow-white satin; the hood concealed her face and locks of +gold; but the robe, although loose and flowing, could not conceal the +rounded outlines of her shape. Her naked feet were encased in delicate +slippers of white satin. And clinging with both hands to the arm of the +White Monk, the White Nun went by. + +"Beverly, are you sure?" Nameless heard her whisper. + +"Sure?" replied the White Monk, in a tone that rose above a +whisper,--"He is false--false--you have the proofs!" And they went from +the light into the gloom. + +"She trembles, and her voice falters," said Frank, observing the form +of the retiring nun. + +"Did she not say _Beverly_?" asked Nameless, a tide of recollections +rushing upon his brain. "That name--surely I heard it,--" + +"Look!" interrupted Frank, pressing his arm,--"An oddly assorted couple +as ever went arm in arm." + +And a little Turk, dressed in a scarlet jacket and blue trowsers, with +an enormous turban on his head, approached the central pillar, leaning +on the arm,--nay, clutching the hand of a tall lady, whose face and +form were completely concealed by an unsightly robe of black muslin; +a garment which seemed to have been assumed, not so much for the sake +of ornament, as for disguise. Gathering the robe across her head and +face with one hand, she glided along; her other hand,--apparently not +altogether to her liking,--grasped by her singular companion. As the +"Lady in Black" passed by, Nameless heard these words,-- + +"Havana! A most delightful residence," whispered the Turk. + +The "Lady in Black" made no reply,--did not even bend her head; but +passed along, her robe brushing the tunic of Nameless, as she glided +from view. + +Why was it that through every nerve, Nameless felt a sensation +which cannot be described, but which one cannot feel but once in a +lifetime,--and once felt, thrilling from heart to brain, from brain +to the remotest fiber of being, can never be forgotten? A sensation, +as though the hand of one long since dead, had touched his cheek, as +though the presence of one long since given to the grave, had come to +him and _overshadowed_ him? + +"Who is that lady?" he whispered,--resting one hand against the pillar, +for a sudden faintness seized him,--"That lady who is matched with a +companion so grotesque?" + +"She may be young or old, fair or hideous, but her name I cannot +tell," responded Frank. "As for her companion,--the diminutive Turk +who clutches her hand, and to whose soft pleadings she does not seem +to listen with the most affectionate interest,--his name is----" Frank +bent her mouth close to the ear of Nameless. + +"His name?" he interrupted. + +"Is one which cannot but excite bitter memories. Israel Yorke, the +Financier!" + +At that name, linked with the events of the previous night, and +with the somber memories of other years, Nameless started, and an +ejaculation escaped his lips. + +"Israel Yorke! and in this place?" + +"Yes,--and why not?" responded Frank, bitterly. "What place so fitting +for the swindler,--pardon me, _Financier_? Is it not well that the +money which by day is wrung from the hard earnings of the poor, should +be spent at night in debauchery and pollution?" + +"_From_ the bank _to_ the brothel," thought Nameless, but he did not +breathe that thought aloud. + +Frank silently took him by the hand, and lifted her vail. There was a +magic in the pressure and the look. Holding the vail in such a manner +that he might gaze freely upon her countenance, while it was hidden +from all other eyes, she looked at him long and steadfastly. + +"Do you regret your pledge?" she said, measuring every word. + +"Regret!" he echoed,--for the touch, the look, the voluptuous +atmosphere of her very presence, made him forget the past, the +prospects of the future,--everything, but the woman whose soul shone +upon him from her passionate eyes:--"Can you think it? Regret! Never!" + +"Then this is my last night in the Temple. O, my heart, my soul is sick +of scenes like these!" She glanced around the hall, crowded by the +maskers,--"_To-morrow_,--" bending gently to him, until he felt her +breath upon his cheek, "to-morrow,--" + +"_To-morrow_!" echoed a strange voice; "but, my lady, I have a word to +say to you _to-night_." + +They turned with the same impulse, and beheld the unbidden speaker, +in the form of a Spanish hidalgo, dressed in black velvet, richly +embroidered with gold. He held his mask before his face, and a group of +dark plumes shaded his brow. + +She started at the voice, and Nameless felt her hand tremble in his own. + +"In a moment I will join you again," she whispered to Nameless; "now, +Count, I am at your service." + +And leaving Nameless by the pillar, she took the Count by the arm, and +with him disappeared in the shadows of the hall. + +Leaning against the pillar, and folding his arms across his +breast,--over the white cross which glittered there,--Nameless awaited +her return with evident anxiety. He was devoured by contending +emotions. The fascination with which this beautiful woman had enveloped +him,--suspicion of the stranger who had called her from his side,--the +strange and varied scene before him,--these occupied him by turns; and +then, even amid the excitement and fascination of the present, some +faces of the past looked vividly in upon his soul! + +And while a scene is transpiring between Frank and the Count, which +will hereafter have a strong influence upon the fate of Nameless, let +us, for an instant, stand with him by the central pillar, and gaze upon +the mysterious ball. + +Mild lights, rich shadows, the ceiling supported by marble pillars, the +maskers in their contrasted costumes, and the mirrors reflecting all. +The stately Roderick and the enticing Lucretia are conversing earnestly +in yonder recess,--the White Monk and the White Nun stand face to face +near yonder pillar, her lip pressing the champagne glass offered by +his hand,--Leo the Tenth, paces slowly from the middle of the hall +to the mirror and back again, the head of his beloved nephew on his +shoulder, _her_ waist encircled by his arm; and yonder, apart from +all others, stands the Lady in Black, with her diminutive lover, even +the Turk, kneeling at her feet. Nameless observes all these with an +especial interest. As for the rest, there is a Pope sharing an orange +with a dancing-girl, a Knight halving a bunch of grapes with a houri, a +Cardinal taking wine with a Quakeress; and the saintly Abbess, yonder, +is teaching the grave Haroun Alraschid how to eat a "philopoena!" + +"Truly, my life is one of adventure!" muttered Nameless, observing the +fantastic scene. "Last night, arrested as a thief,--a few nights since +the tenant of a mad-house, and to-night in a scene like this! To-morrow +night _what_ and _where_?" + +To-morrow night! + +Meanwhile, in a dark recess, whose mirror scarce reflected a single +ray, Frank, trembling and agitated, stood face to face with the Count. +His mask was laid aside, and in the dim light she saw his face stamped +with an unusual energy. + +"You wish to speak to me?" she said. + +"An hour ago I came to this house,--entered your chamber unsummoned, +and to my utter surprise found this young man there. I overheard the +pledge which you exchanged; and now let us have a fair understanding. +Has he promised,--has he plighted his word? Have you accepted him?" +Thus spoke the Count, in a low voice. + +"He has, father," replied Frank; "and I have accepted him." + +"When and where?" asked the Count, or Col. Tarleton, as you please. + +"As soon as I leave this place, and am the tenant of a _home_," replied +Frank, her voice trembling on that word, so new to her--"_home_!" + +"Daughter," said Tarleton, and his voice was deep and husky, indicating +powerful emotion, "I have a few words to say to you; you will do +well to heed them. The drama of twenty-one years draws to a close. +The termination of the fifth act will decide my fate and yours. This +_boy_ is now almost the only obstacle between myself and my brother's +unbounded wealth, and between you and the position of a respected, if +not virtuous, woman. And this boy, mark you, shall not leave this house +save as your husband. I swear it! Do you hear me,--" + +His voice grew thicker, huskier,--he seized her by the wrist. + +"Father!" she gasped, as though her proud spirit was cowed by the +ferocious determination of his manner. + +"He shall not leave this house save as your husband. You say that he +is fascinated with you, and you, at first sight, with him. Well! He +has seventy-one thousand dollars now in his possession, (no matter how +gained), and on the 25th of December, that is, to-morrow, if _living_, +he will become the possessor of the Van Huyden estate, a richer man +than Girard and Astor together; ay, ten Astors and Girards on top of +that. As his wife, your position will be that of a queen; and as for +myself, I will sacrifice my hopes as the brother of the testator, in +order to behold you the queenly wife of that testator's son. You hear +me?" + +"I do," gasped Frank. + +"But there must be no mistake, mark you, no 'slip between the cup and +the lip;' the time is too near, to trust this matter to the remotest +chance of failure. He must be your husband ere he leaves this house, +or,--" + +"Or?" faltered Frank. + +"Or,--mark you, I do not threaten; but I am speaking Fate,--or, he will +not _appear_ on the 25th of December." + +"He will not _appear_? What mean you?" her voice suddenly changed; she +laid her hand upon his shoulder. "Do you mean to say that you will +_murder_ him, dear father?" + +"He will not _appear_, I said, and say it again," he resumed in the +same determined voice; "and the inheritance of this incredible estate +will fall either to the seven, or to myself, the brother, or,--are you +listening, daughter?--to the _twin brother_ of this boy." + +"Twin brother?" echoed Frank, utterly amazed. + +"Yes, twin brother. The time is short, and we must put what we have to +say in the fewest words. You remember your lost brother, Gulian?" + +"I do." + +"He was not your brother, although you were always taught to regard +him as such. He was the twin brother of the boy who now leans against +yonder pillar. On the night of his birth (wishing to destroy every +obstacle between myself and my brother's estate), I stole him from his +mother's arms. But when I learned the details of my brother's singular +will, I resolved to rear him as my own, and keep him in reserve until +the 25th of December, 1844, when thoroughly under my influence, and +yet backed by undeniable proofs of his paternity, he would appear and +claim his father's estate. It was not until 1832, that I learned that +he had a twin brother in existence; you know what pains I took to +sweep all proof of his existence from the memory of man; and it was +only last night that I learned that this twin brother (now standing by +yonder pillar), was still in being. Now, Frank, is the case clear? The +one whom you were taught to call your brother Gulian, and to regard as +lost, is neither your brother nor is he lost. He is living, and at my +will, on the 25th of December, 1844,--to-morrow,--will appear in place +of yonder youth, unless the marriage takes place at once." + +Frank was utterly confounded. Well she remembered the revelation which +Nameless made while in the clairvoyant state; that his mother had given +birth to two children, one of whom had been secreted by the father, the +other stolen by the uncle, but that the lost boy, whom she had been +taught to regard as her brother Gulian, was one of these twins, was the +brother of Nameless,--this was indeed a revelation, an overwhelming +surprise. For a moment she was silent; her brain throbbed painfully. + +"But how am I to believe this story?" + +"You can disbelieve it, if you like," responded her father drily, "and +risk the consequences--" + +"But will not the marriage be as certain to-morrow, the day after, nay +a week hence,--" she faltered. + +"Girl! you will drive me mad,--" he clutched her by the +wrist:--"nothing is certain that is not accomplished--" + +She felt the blood mount to her cheek, and her heart swell in her +breast: + +"Have you no shame?" she said and flung his hand from her wrist--"Do +you forget what you have made me? How can I, knowing what I am, what +you have made me, urge him to hasten this marriage? Have you no shame? +'Come, I am lost and fallen,' shall I speak thus to him, 'I was sold +into shame by my parents, when only fourteen years old. But you must +marry me; to-night; at once; my father says so; he knows best; he sold +me; and wants your fortune!' do you wish me to speak thus to him, +father dear?" + +It was now his turn to tremble. The proud spirit of her mother, (before +he had degraded that mother,) spoke again in the tone, in the look of +her daughter. He bit his lip, and ground his teeth. + +"Frank, Frank, pity me,--I am desperate, but it is for your sake!" he +cried, changing his method of attack--"Spare me the commission of a new +crime,--spare me! I do not threaten, I entreat." + +Wringing her hands within his own, he dragged her deeper into the +shadows of the recess. + +"Behold me at your feet;" he fell upon his knees; "the father on his +knees at his daughter's feet; the father already steeped in crime, +beseeches that daughter to save him from the commission of a new crime; +to save him by simply pursuing her own happiness." + +Frank was fearfully agitated; she drew her father to his right. "When +do you wish the marriage to take place?" she said in a faltering tone. + +"At once,--for your sake,--" + +"But the clergyman,--" + +"Dr. Bulgin is here. If you consent I will summon him to your chamber. +The ceremony will take place there. + +"Wait," she whispered; "I will see him. If I drop my 'kerchief, or take +the cross from his neck all is right." + +She glided from her father's side, and passing along the hall, among +the maskers, soon stood by the side of Nameless once more. + +Tarleton watched her as she went; watched her as she confronted +Nameless; and while her back was toward him, endeavored, even through +the distance, to mark the result of her mission, from the changes of +the countenance of Nameless. Tarleton's form was concealed by the +hangings of the recess, but his face, projecting from its shadow, was +touched with faint light; light that only rendered more haggard and +livid, its already haggard and livid lineaments. How earnestly he +watched for the anticipated sign! It was not made. He clutched the +hangings with both hands. + +It had been a busy night with him. He had taken Ninety-One to the rooms +of young Evelyn Somers, and placed the convict in one room, while the +dead body of his own victim, rested in the other; thence he had passed +to the library of Somers, the father, and held a pleasant chat with +him; and from thence to the counting-room of Israel Yorke, where he had +set Blossom on the track of Ninety-One. And from the counting-room of +Israel Yorke, (after a deed or two which may hereafter be explained) +he had repaired once more to the house of the merchant prince, in time +to find Ninety-One accused of the murder of young Evelyn Somers. He +had rushed to the room of Ninety-One, determined to avenge the murder +of his friend, and to his great astonishment, found that Ninety-One +had escaped by a secret door. Of course, the gallant Colonel knew +nothing of that door! Then he had witnessed the death scene of the +merchant-prince, and after threatening the boy, Gulian, he had returned +to the Temple, brooding all sorts of schemes, big with all kinds of +elaborate deviltry; and had discovered, to his real surprise, Nameless +in his daughter's chamber! Discovered that Frank was in love with +Nameless, and Nameless fascinated by Frank. A busy night, gallant +Colonel! Well may you clutch the hangings with both hands, and watch +for the falling of the 'kerchief, or the lifting of the cross! + +"They are talking,--talking,--zounds! Why does she not give the sign? +That sign given and all my difficulties are at an end! The seven heirs, +Martin Fulmer, the estate, all are in my power!" + +As these words escaped the Colonel's lips, two figures approached: +one a knight in blue armor, (something like unto the stage +image of the Ghost of Hamlet's father,) and the other in buff +waistcoat, wide-skirted coat, ruffles, cocked hat, and buckskin +small clothes,--supposed altogether to resemble a gentleman of the +old school. The blue knight and the gentleman of the old school +were moderately inebriated: even to a sinuousness of gait, and a +tremulousness of the knees. + +"I say Colonel, _what--what_ news?" hiccupped the knight. + +"Yes, yes," remarked the gentleman of the old school, with a bold +attempt at originality of thought, "what _news_?" + +"Pop!--" the Colonel looked at the knight,--"Pills!" he surveyed the +gentleman of the old school; "I've sad news for you. Passing by the +house of old Mr. Somers, an hour or two ago, I discovered that his son +had been murdered in his room, you mark me, by an escaped convict, who +was found concealed on the premises. Sad news, boys!" + +"Extraordinary!" cried Pop and Pill in a breath. And the two drew near +the principal and conversed at leisure with him; the Colonel all the +while watching for the sign! + +Frank and Nameless! + +She found him leaning against the central pillar, his arms folded on +his breast, his large gray eyes (for the mask had fallen from his +face,) roving thoughtfully around the hall. How changed that face! The +cheeks, no longer sallow, are flushed with hope; the lips, no longer +colorless and dropped apart in vacant apathy, are firmly set together; +the broad forehead, still white and massive, is stamped with thought; +the thought which, no longer dismayed by the bitter past, looks +forward, with a clear vision to the battles of the future. The events +of the night had given new life to Nameless. + +She caught his gaze,--and at once enchained it. His eye derived new +fire from her look, but was chained to that look. + +"It was _my father_ who wished to speak with me, Gulian," she said, and +watched each lineament of his countenance. + +"Your father?" he echoed. + +"My father, who has worked you so much wrong,--who has worked such +bitter wrong to me,--and who this very night, while brooding schemes +for your ruin, entered my chamber, and found you in my arms, and heard +the solemn pledge which we exchanged." + +"Well, Frank," he interrupted, gazing anxiously into her face. + +"He confesses that our,--our _marriage_, will more than exceed his +wildest hope. That the very thought of it, makes him feel bitter +remorse for the past, and levels every evil thought, as regards the +future. But--" + +She paused and took his hands in hers, and bent her face nearer to him, +until her burning gaze, riveted every power of his soul. + +"But he is afraid that you will hereafter regret your pledge of +marriage." + +"Frank!" + +"That you, as the possessor of incredible wealth, will look back with +wonder, with contempt upon the hour, when you plighted your faith to +one like me!" + +"One like you! Frank, Frank, do you think thus?" + +"That once secure in your possessions, you will regard as worse than +idle words, a promise made to the daughter of your enemy,--to a woman, +whose life has been--spare me--" + +She buried her head upon his breast; he drew her to him and felt the +beating of her heart. + +"Oh, Frank, can you think thus meanly of me?" he cried, completely +carried away by her wild beauty, her agitation, her tears. "My promise +once made cannot be taken back. I know what I promise; I know the +future. I have risen from the grave of my past life; you, too, shall +rise from the grave of your past life. We will begin life anew. We +will walk the world together! Oh, would that this hour, this moment, I +could make my compact good, beyond all chance of change, all danger of +repeal!" + +"Do you really wish thus, Gulian?" She raised her face, and her soul +was in her eyes. "Is that the deepest wish of your heart?" + +"Frank, I swear it!" + +She took the white cross from his neck,--held it for a moment over her +head; it glittered brightly in the light; and then she wound the chain +about her own neck, and the white cross glittered on her proud bosom. + +"Take this in exchange"--she took the golden cross from her breast, and +wound its chain about his neck; the cross glitters over his heart--"in +witness of our mutual pledge. And Gulian,--" there was a look--an +extended hand--"Come!" + +She led him from the light into the shadows, and--while his every pulse +bounded as with a new life--from the hall. + +And, as they passed from the hall, Leo the Tenth, clad in his cardinal +attire, led his young nephew lovingly among the shadows of the vast +apartment,--now pausing to refresh himself with sparkling Heidsick, and +now twining his arm about the nephew's waist, trying to soothe _her_ +mind upon some doctrinal point: + +"Dearest Julia," he whispered, as they paused for a moment in the +shadow of a pillar. + +"Dearest Doctor," she responded--that is, the nephew, clad in blue +frock-coat and trowsers; "you don't think that my husband ever will--" + +The sentence was interrupted. A grave hidalgo, attired in black velvet, +richly embroidered with gold, confronted the Doctor, otherwise Leo the +Tenth, and whispered earnestly in his ear. + +"Impossible!" responded Leo the Tenth, shaking his head. "Impossible, +my dear Tarleton!" + +"It _must_ be," answered the hidalgo, emphatically. "A quiet room up +stairs, and no one present save myself, the bridegroom and the bride." + +"But my name will appear on the certificate," hesitated the Doctor, +"and questions may be asked as to the _place_ in which this marriage +was celebrated, and _how_ I came to be there." + +"Pshaw! You are strangely scrupulous," returned the hidalgo. "I tell +you, Doctor, it is a matter of the last importance, and cannot be put +off. Then you can celebrate the marriage a _second_ time, in _another +place_, and--" he whispered a few emphatic words in the Doctor's ear. + +Leo the Tenth was troubled, but he saw no way of escape. + +"Well, well, be it so, Tarleton; you are an odd sort of fellow. Julia, +dear,"--this, aside to his nephew; "wait for me in the Scarlet Chamber, +up stairs, you know?" The nephew whispered _her_ assent. "I'll join +you presently. Now Count,"--this to Tarleton,--"lead the way, and let +us celebrate these mysterious nuptials." + +And the three left the Central Hall together. Tarleton and the Doctor, +on their way to the Bridal Chamber, and the nephew on _her_ way to the +Scarlet Chamber. + +Near the central pillar stood the White Monk, with the hands of the +White Nun resting on his shoulders, and his arms about her waist. Her +hood has fallen; her countenance, flushed and glowing, lies open to +his gaze. A beautiful nun, with blue eyes, swimming in fiery light, +and unbound hair, bright as gold, sweeping a cheek like a rosebud, +and resting upon neck and shoulders white as snow. And the White Monk +bends down, and their lips meet, and she falls, half passionately, half +shuddering, on his breast. + +"Oh, Beverly, Beverly! whither would you lead me?" He scarce can +distinguish the words, so faint, so broken by agitation is her voice. + +"Your husband is false. He has trampled upon your love. I love you, and +will avenge you. Come, Joanna!" + +And from the light into the shadow, with the trembling nun half resting +on his arm, half reposing on his breast, passes the White Monk. They +reach the threshold of the hall. Pass it not, Joanna, as you love your +child! pass it not, on peril of your soul! But no! "Come, Joanna!" and +they are gone together. + +From the throng of maskers who glide to and fro, select, for a moment, +the lady in black, who stands gloomily yonder, gathering the folds of +her robe about her face. Does this scene attract, or repel her? Within +that shapeless robe, does her bosom swell with pleasure--voluptuous +pleasure? or does it contract with terror and loathing? + +Her Turkish friend,--the diminutive gentleman in the red jacket, +spangled all over, blue trowsers and red morocco boots,--in vain offers +her a glass of sparkling champagne; and just as vainly essays to draw +her forth in conversation. At last, he seems to weary of her continued +silence: + +"If you will favor me with your company for a few moments, I will +explain the purpose which impelled me to request an interview at this +place." + +"Let it be at once, then," is the whispered reply. + +He offers his arm; she quietly but firmly pushes it aside. + +"I will follow you," she says in her low-toned voice. + +And the Turk leaves the hall, followed by the Lady in Black. + +"The Blue Chamber!" he ejaculates, as he crosses the threshold. + +Look again among the throng of guests. The stately Roderick Borgia +stands yonder, his massive form reflected in a mirror, and the white +robed Lucretia resting on his arm. They are masked; you cannot see +the voluptuous loveliness of her face, nor the somber passion of his +bronzed visage. But his brow,--that vast forehead, big with swollen +veins,--is visible; and the mirror reflects her spotless neck and +shoulders, and the single lily set among the meshes of her raven hair. +It is a fine picture; the majestic Borgia, clad in purple, the enticing +Lucretia robed in snowy white: never before did mirror reflect a more +striking contrast. You hear his voice--that voice whose organ-like +depth stirs the blood: + +"A career, beautiful lady, now opens before you, such as the proudest +queen might envy--" + +And he attempts to take her soft, white hand within his own. But she +gently withdraws it from his grasp. Lucretia, it seems, is timid, +or--artful. + +"Yes, we will revive the day, when intellect and beauty, embodied in a +woman's form, ruled the world." How his deep voice adds force to his +words. "Yes, yes; you shall be my Queen--mine! But come; I have that to +say to you, which will have a vital bearing upon your fate." + +"And my brother?" whispers Lucretia. + +"And also the fate of your brother," responds Roderick Borgia. "Come +with me to the Golden Room." + +"To the Golden Room be it then!" + +And Lucretia leans on the arm of Borgia and goes with him from the Hall +to the Golden Room: his broad chest swelling with the anticipation of +triumph,--and her right hand resting upon the hilt of the poniard which +is inserted in the scarf that binds her waist. + +Ere we follow the guests who have left the hall, and trace their +various fortunes, let us cast a momentary glance upon those who remain. + +The Caliph Haroun Alraschid sits by yonder table, sipping champagne +from a long-necked glass, which now and then is pressed by the lips +of his fair abbess. The caliph has evidently been refreshing himself +too bountifully with the wines of the Giaour; his mask falls aside, +and beneath his turban, instead of the grave oriental features of the +magnificent sultan, you discern the puffy face and carbuncled nose of a +Wall street broker. + +A little beyond the caliph, a pope has fallen to sleep on yonder sofa, +the triple crown resting neglected at his feet, and his pontifical +robes soiled with the stains of wine. The cardinal and his Quakeress +are trying the steps of the last waltz. The Christian knight and his +houri, stand by the table, near the pillar,--discussing the merits of +Mahomet's paradise? No! But the remains of a cold boiled fowl. And +then, in the shadows of the pillars, and in front of the lofty mirrors, +still glided to and fro the contrasted train of monks and nuns, knights +and houris, cardinals and Quakeresses, popes and dancing girls. All +were masked--still masked: for there were faces in that hall which you +may have often seen in the dress circle of the opera, or in the dress +pews of the fashionable church. Remove those masks? Never! not as you +value the peace of a hundred families, the reputation of some of our +most exclusive fashionables, the repose of "good society." + +Thus the maskers glide along; the music strikes up in an adjoining +hall--the dance begins--the orgie deepens,--and,-- + +Let the curtain fall. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE BLUE ROOM. + + +The diminutive Turk, followed by the Lady in Black, led the way from +the hall, to a distant and secluded apartment. She still gathered the +hood of her robe closely about her face, and not a word was spoken as +they pursued their way along the dark passage. A door was opened, and +they entered a small although luxurious apartment, hung with hangings +of azure, veined with golden flowers. A wax candle, placed in its +massive candlestick, on a table before a mirror, gave light to the +place. It was a silent, cozy, and luxurious nook of the Temple, remote +from the hall, and secure from all danger of interruption. + +As the Turk entered he flung aside his mask and turban, and disclosed +the ferret eyes, bald head and wiry whiskers of Israel Yorke. Israel's +bald head was fringed with white hairs; his wiry whiskers touched with +gray; it was a strange contrast between his practical _bank-note_ face, +and his oriental costume. + +"Now," he cried, flinging himself into a chair, "let us come to some +understanding. What in the deuce do you mean?" + +"What do I mean?" echoed the Lady in Black, who, seated on the sofa, +held the folds of the robe across her face. + +"Yes, _what_ do you mean?" replied Israel, giving his Turkish jacket a +petulant twitch. "Did I not help you out of that difficulty in Canal +street, last evening, and rescue you from the impertinence of the +shop-keeper?" + +"Yes," briefly responded the lady. + +"Did I not, seeing your forlorn and desolate condition, pin a note +to your shawl, signed with my own name, asking you to meet me at +this place, at twelve o'clock, 'where,' so I said, 'my worthy and +unprotected friend, now so bravely endeavoring to get bread for +an afflicted father, you will hear of something greatly to your +advantage.' Those were my words, '_greatly to your advantage_.'" + +"Those were the words," echoed the lady, still preserving her +motionless attitude. + +"And in the note I inclosed the password by which only admittance can +be gained to this mansion?" + +"You did. I used it; entered the mansion and met you." Her voice was +scarcely audible and very tremulous. + +"You met me, oh, indeed you met me," said Israel, pulling his gray +whiskers; "but what of that? An hour and more has passed. You have +refused even a glass of wine,--have never replied one word to all my +propositions; egad! I have not even seen your face." + +"And now you have brought me to this lonely apartment to repeat your +proposals?" + +"Yes!" Israel picked up his turban and twirled it round on the end of +his finger. "I want a plain answer, yes, or no! I am a plain man,--a +man of business. You are poor, almost starving (pardon me if I pain +you), and you have an aged and helpless father on your hands. You +have nothing to look forward to, but starvation, or, the streets. You +remember the scene in the shirt-store to-night?" + +The lady gently bowed her head, and raised both hands to her face. + +"I am rich, benevolent, always had a good heart,"--another twirl of the +turban,--"and in a day or two I am about to sail for Havana. Accompany +me! Your father shall be settled comfortably; the sea-breezes will do +you good, and,--and,--the climate is delicious." And the fervent Turk +stroked his bald head, and smoothed his white hairs. + +"Accompany you," said the lady, slowly; "in what capacity? As a +daughter, perchance?" + +"Not ex-act-ly as a daugh-t-e-r," responded Israel; "but as a +_companion_." + +There was a pause, and the robe was gently removed from the head and +face of the Lady in Black. A beautiful countenance, shaded by dark +brown hair, was disclosed; young and beautiful, although there was the +shadow of sorrow on the cheeks, and traces of tears in the eyes. An +expression inexpressibly sad and touching came over that face, as she +said, in a voice which was musical in its very tremor,-- + +"And you, sir, knew my father in better days?" + +"I did." + +"You never knew any one of his race guilty of a dishonorable act?" + +"Never did." + +"And now you find him aged and helpless,--find myself, his only hope, +reduced to the last extreme of poverty, with no prospect but (your own +words), starvation, or the streets,--" + +"Ay." Israel, beneath his spectacles, seemed to cast an admiring glance +at his Turkish trowsers and red morocco boots. + +"And in this hour, you, an old friend of the family, who have +never known one of our name guilty of an act of dishonor, come to +me, and seeing my father's affliction, and my perfectly helpless +condition, gravely propose that I shall escape dishonor by becoming +your--_mistress_! That is your proposition, sir." + +She rose and placed her hand firmly on Israel's shoulder, and looked +him fixedly in the eye. The little man was thunderstruck. Her flashing +eyes, her bosom heaving proudly under its faded covering, the proud +curl of her lip, and the firm pressure of the hand which rested on his +shoulder, took the Financier completely by surprise. + +"I am scarce sixteen years old," she continued, her eyes growing larger +and brighter, "my childhood was passed without a care. But in the +last two years I have gone through trials that madden me now to think +upon; trials that the aged and experienced are rarely called upon to +encounter; but in the darkest hour, I have never forgotten these words, +'Trust in God;' never for an instant believed that God would ever leave +me to become the prey of a man like _you_!" + +And she pressed his shoulder, until the little man shook again, his +gold spectacles rattling on his nose. + +"For, do you mark me, the very trials that have well-nigh driven me +mad, have also given me strength and courage, may be, the strength, the +courage of despair, but still the courage, when the last hope fails, to +choose death before dishonor!" + +"But your father," faltered Israel. + +"My father is without bread; but once in twenty-four hours have I +tasted food, and that a miserable morsel; but rather than accept your +proposals, and lie down with shame, I would put the poison vial first +to my father's lips, then to my own! Yes, Israel Yorke, there is a God, +and He, in this house, when the last hope has gone out, when there is +nothing but death before, gives me strength to spit upon your infamous +proposals, and to die! Strength such as you will never feel in your +death-hour!" + +"Pretty talk, pretty talk," faltered Israel; "but what does it amount +to? Talk on, still the fact remains; you and your father are starving, +and you reject the offer of the only one who can relieve you." + +She raised her eyes to heaven. She folded her hands upon her heaving +breast. Her face was unnaturally pallid; her eyes unnaturally bright. +As she stood, in an attitude so calm and severe, she was wondrously +beautiful. Her voice was marked with singular elation,-- + +"O, my God! there must be a hell," she said. "There must be a place +where the injustice of this world is made straight; else why does this +man sit here, clad in ill-gotten and superfluous wealth, while my aged +father, one of his victims, lacks at this hour even a crust of bread?" + +Israel's feelings can only be described by a single +word--"uncomfortable." He shifted nervously in his chair, and twirled +his turban on the end of his finger; then rubbed his bald head, +smoothed his white hair, and pulled his wiry whiskers. + +"What in the devil did you come to see me for, if such was your opinion +of me?" + +"I came to see you as a last hope;" her countenance fell, and her tone +was that of unalloyed despair. "I thought that remorse had been busy at +your heart; that you wished to atone for the past by a just, although +tardy, restitution. I thought----" + +"Remorse! restitution!" laughed the Financier. "Come, I like that!" + +"That knowing the utterly destitute condition of the father, you had +summoned the daughter, in order to tender to her, at least, a portion +of the wealth which you wrung from him----" + +Choked by emotion, she could not proceed, but grew pale and paler, +until a flood of tears came to her relief. + +"O, sir, a pittance, a pittance, to save my father's life!" She flung +herself at his feet, and clutched his knees. Her much-worn bonnet fell +back upon her neck, and her hair burst its fastening, and descended +in wavy masses upon her shoulders. Her face was flushed with sudden +warmth; her eyes shone all the brighter for their tears. "A pittance +out of your immense wealth, to save the life of your old friend, my +father! His daughter begs it at your feet." + +Israel gazed at her deliberately through his gold spectacles,-- + +"Oh, no, my dear," he said, and a sneer curled his cold lip; "you are +too damnably virtuous." + +The maiden said no more. Relaxing her grasp, she fell at his feet, and +lay there, pale and insensible, her long hair floating on the carpet. +The agony which she had endured in the last twenty-four hours had +reached its climax. She was stretched like a dead woman at the feet of +the Financier. + +"Trust in God,--good motto for a picture-book; but what good does it +do you now my dear?" thus soliloquized Israel, as he knelt beside the +insensible girl. "Don't discount that kind of paper in my bank that I +know of. Fine arm, that, and splendid bust!" He surveyed her maidenly, +yet rounded proportions. "If it was not for her stubborn virtue, she +would make a splendid companion. Well, well,----" + +A vile thought worked its way through every lineament of his face. + +"Once in my power, all her scruples would be at an end. We are +alone,"--he glanced around the cozy apartment,--"and I think I'll try +the effect of an anodyne. Anodynes are good for fainting spells, I +believe." + +He drew a slender vial from beneath his Turkish jacket, and holding it +between himself and the light, examined it steadily with one eye. + +"It is well I thought of it! 'Twill revive her,--make her gently +delirious for a while, and she will not come to herself completely +until to-morrow; much surer than persuasion, and quicker! Trust in +God,--a-hem!" + +He raised her head on his knee, and un corked the vial and held it to +her lips. + +At that moment there was a quick, rapid knock at the door. It broke +startlingly upon the dead stillness. + +"Why did I not lock it?" cried Israel, his hand paralyzed, even as it +held the vial to the poor girl's lips. + +Too late! The door opened, and one by one, six sturdy men, in rough +garments and with faces by no means ominous of good stalked into the +room. + +And over the shoulders of the six, appeared six other faces, all +wearing that same discouraging expression. It may not be improper to +state that every one of the twelve carried in his right hand a piece of +wood, that deserved the name of a stick, perchance, a club. + +And shuffling over the floor, they encircled Israel. "Got him," said +one who appeared to be the spokesman of the band, "safe and tight! Had +a hunt, but fetched him at last. I say, Israel, my Turk, (a gentle hint +with a club), get up and redeem your paper!" + +And he held a bundle of bank notes,--Chow Bank, Muddy Run, Terrapin +Hollow, under the nose of the paralyzed Financier. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE GOLDEN ROOM. + + +Roderick Borgia leads Lucretia across the threshold of the Golden +Room. She utters an ejaculation of wonder mingled with terror. For it +is a magnificent, and yet a gloomy place that Golden Room. A large +square apartment, the walls concealed by black hangings,--hangings of +velvet fringed with gold. The floor is covered with a dark carpet, the +ceiling represents a sun radiating among sullen clouds. The chairs, the +sofa, are covered with black velvet, and framed in gold. Only a single +mirror is there,--opposite the sofa, reaching from the floor to the +ceiling, framed in ebony, which in its turn is framed in a border of +gold. A lamp, whose light is softened by a clouded shade, stands on an +ebony table, between the sofa and the mirror, and around the lamp are +clustered fruits and flowers, two long necked glasses, and a bottle of +Bohemian glass, blue, veined with gold. A single picture, suspended +against the dark hangings, alone relieves the sullen grandeur of the +place. It is of the size of life, and represents Lucretia Borgia, her +unbound hair waving darkly over her white shoulders, and half bared +bosom, her eyes shooting their maddening glance, from the shadow of +the long eyelashes, her form clad in a white garment, edged with +scarlet,--a garment which, light and airy, floats like a misty vail +about her beautiful shape. Coming from the darkness into this scene, +the masked Lucretia, as we have said, could not repress an ejaculation, +half astonishment, half fear-- + + +"Never fear," cries Roderick gayly, as he flung his plumed cap on the +table. "It looks gloomy enough, but then it is like the Golden Room +in the Vatican, of which history tells. And then,"--he pointed to the +picture, "the living Lucretia need not fear a comparison with the dead +one. Remove your mask! I am dying to look upon you." + +Lucretia sank upon the sofa with Roderick by her side. Roderick +unmasked and revealed the somber features of Gabriel Godlike. Lucretia +dropped her mask, and the light shone on the face of Esther Royalton. + +"By heavens, you are beautiful!"--his eyes streamed with singular +intense light, from the shadow of his projecting brow. + +And she was beautiful. A faultless shape, neck and shoulders white +as snow, a countenance framed in jet-black hair, the red bloom of a +passionate organization on lips and cheeks, large eyes, whose intense +light was rather deepened than subdued by the shadow of the long +eyelashes. And then the blush which coursed over her face and neck, +as she felt Godlike's burning gaze fixed upon her, can be compared to +nothing save a sudden flash of morning sunlight, trembling over frozen +snow. One of those women, altogether, whose organization embodies the +very intensity of intellect and passion, and whose way in life lies +along no middle track, but either rises to the full sunlight, or is +lost in shadows and darkness. + +"You consent, my child?" Godlike softened his organ-like voice,--took +her hand within his own--she did not give, nor did she withdraw her +hand,--"Randolph shall go abroad, upon an honorable mission to a +foreign court, where he will be treated as a man, without regard to the +taint (if thus it may be called) in his blood. He will have fair and +free scope for the development of his genius. And you,--" + +He paused. She lifted her eyes to his face, and met his burning +glances, with a searching and profound look. + +"And myself,--" + +"And you shall go with me to Washington, where your beauty shall +command all hearts, your intellect carve for yourself a position, that +a queen might envy." + +She made no reply, but her eyes were downcast, her beautiful forehead +darkened by a shade of thought. Was she measuring the full force and +meaning of his words? + +"In,--what--capacity--did--you--say?" she asked at length in a faint +voice. + +"As my ward,--" responded Godlike; "you will be known as my ward, +the heiress and daughter of a wealthy West Indian, who at his death, +intrusted your person and fortune to my care. You will have your +own mansion, your pair of servants, carriage and so-forth,--in fact, +all the externals of a person of immense wealth. As my ward you will +enter the first circles of society. The whole machinery of life at the +Capital will be laid bare to your gaze, and with your hand upon the +spring which sets that machinery in motion, you can command it to your +will. You will not live, you will reign!" + +"Tell me something," said Esther, in a low voice, her bosom for a +moment swelling above the scarlet border of her robe,--"Tell me +something of life at the Capital,--life in Washington City." + +Godlike laughed until his broad chest shook again,--a deep sardonic +laugh. + +"Poets have prated of the influence of woman, and most wildly! But +life in Washington City distances the wildest dream of the poets. +There woman is supreme. Never was her influence so absolute before, +at any court,--neither at the court of Louis the Great, nor that of +George the Fourth,--as at the plain republican court of Washington +City. The simple people, afar off from Washington, think that it +is the President, the Heads of the Department, the Senators and +Representatives, who make the laws and wield the destinies of the +republic. They think of great men sitting in council, by the midnight +lamp, their hearts heavy, their eyes haggard with much watching over +the welfare of the nation. Bah! when the real legislator is not a grave +senator or solemn minister of state, but some lovely woman, armed +only with a pair of bright eyes, and a soft musical voice. The grave +legislators of the male gender, strut grandly in their robes of office, +before the scenes,--and that poor dumb beast, the people, opens its big +eyes, and stares and struts; but behind the scenes, it is woman who +pulls the wires, makes the laws, and sets the nation going." He paused +and laughed again. "Why, my child, I have known the gravest questions, +in which the very fate of the nation was involved, decided upon, in +senate or in cabinet, after long days and nights of council and debate, +and,----knocked to pieces in an instant by the soft fingers of a pretty +woman. It is red tape, _versus_ bright eyes in Washington City, and +eyes always carry the day." + +"This is indeed a strange story you are telling me," said Esther, her +eyes still downcast. + +Godlike for a moment surveyed himself in the mirror opposite, and +laughed. + +"I vow I had quite forgotten, that I was arrayed in this singular +costume,--scarlet tunic, edged with ermine, and so-forth,--it +is something in the style of Borgia, and," he added to himself, +surveying the somber visage and massive forehead, surmounted by iron +gray hair,--"not so bad looking for a man of sixty! You think it +impossible?" he continued aloud, turning to Esther, who had raised her +hand thoughtfully to her forehead,--"why my dear child, a man who lives +in Washington for any time, sees strange things. I have seen a husband +purchase a mission by the gift of the person of a beautiful wife; I +have seen a brother mount to office over the ruins of his sister's +honor; I have seen a gray-haired father, when all his claims for +position proved fruitless, place in the scale, the chastity of an only +and beautiful daughter--and win. By ----!" he drew down his dark brows, +until his eyes were scarcely visible, "How is it possible to look upon +mankind with anything but contempt,--contempt and scorn!" + +"But," and Esther raised her eyes to that bronzed face, every lineament +of which now worked with a look of indescribable scorn,--"you have +genius,--the loftiest! you tower above the mass of men. You have +influence,--an influence rarely given to any one man; it spans the +continent; why not use your genius and influence to make men better?" + +There was something in her tone, which struck the heart of Godlike. +The expression of intense scorn was succeeded by a look of sadness as +intense. His brows rose, and his eyes looked forth, large, clear and +dreamy. It was as though that dark countenance, seamed by the wrinkles +of long years of sin, had been, for an instant, baptized with the hope +and freshness of youth. + +"That was long ago; long ago; the dream of making men better. I felt it +once,--tried to carry it into deeds. But the dream has long since past. +I awakened from it many years ago. You see it is very pleasant to +believe in the innate goodness of human nature, but attempt to carry it +into action, and hark! do you not hear them, the very people, to whom +yesterday you sacrificed your soul; hark! '_crucify him! crucify him!_'" + +He rose from the sofa, and the mirror reflected his majestic form, clad +in the attire of Roderick Borgia, and his dark visage, stamped with +genius on the giant forehead, and burning with the light of a giant +soul in the lurid eyes. He was strangely agitated. His chest heaved +beneath his masker's attire. There was an absent, dreamy look in his +upraised eyes. + +"I used to think of it, and dream over it, in my college days,--of +that history in which 'Hosanna!' is shouted to-day, and palm branches +strewn; and to-morrow,--the hall of Pilate, the crown of thorns, the +march up Calvary, and the felon's cross! I used, I say, to think and +dream over it in my college days. As I looked around the world and +surveyed history, and found the same story everywhere: found that for +bold imposture and giant humbug, in every age, the world had riches, +honor, fame, while in return, for any attempt to make it better, it had +the cry, 'crucify! crucify!' it had the scourge, the crown of thorns, +and the felon's cross." + +His voice swelled bold and deep through the silent room; as he uttered +the last word, he raised his hand to his eyes, and for a moment was +buried in the depth of his emotions. Esther, raising her eyes, regarded +with looks of mingled admiration and awe, that forehead, upon which +the veins stood forth bold and swollen,--the handwriting of the inward +thought. + +"The devil is a very great fool," he said, with a burst of laughter, +"to give himself so much trouble about a world which is not worth the +damning." And then turning to Esther, he said bitterly: "Do you ask +me why I utterly despise mankind, and why I have lost all faith in +good? In the course of a long and somewhat tumultuous life, I have +found one thing true,--whenever from a pure impulse, I have advocated +a noble thought, or done a good deed, I have been hunted like a dog, +and whenever from mere egotism, I have defended a bad principle, or +achieved an infamous deed, I have been worshiped as a demigod. Yes, it +is not for one's bad deeds that we are blamed; it is for the good, that +condemnation falls upon us." + +He strode to the table, and filled a glass to the brim with blood-red +Burgundy: "My beautiful Esther, your answer! Which do you choose? +On the one hand want and persecution, on the other, position and +power,--yes, on the one hand the life of the hunted pariah; on the +other, sway of an absolute queen." + +He drained the glass, without removing it from his lips; then advancing +to the sofa, he took her hands within his own, and raised her gently to +her feet. + +"Esther, it is time to make your choice," he said, bending the force +of his gaze upon that beautiful countenance: "which will you be? Your +brother's slave, hunted at every step, and even doomed to be the pariah +of the social world,--or, will you be the ward of Gabriel Godlike, the +beautiful heiress of his West Indian friend, the unrivaled queen of +life at the capital." + +Esther felt his burning gaze, and said with downcast eyes,--her voice +very low and faint--"And in return for this generous protection, what +am I to give you?" + +"Can you ask, my child?" he said, and pressed her hand within his +own.--"You will be my friend, my counselor, my companion." + +"Companion?" + +"Wearied with the toils of state, the wear and tear of the world,--in +your presence, I will seek oblivion of the world and its cares. With +you I will grow young again, and--who knows--but guided by you, I +shall, even at three-score, learn to hope in man? Your heart is fresh, +your intellect clear and vivid: I shall often seek your counsel in +affairs of state, for I have learned, that in nine cases out of ten, +it is better to rely upon the _intuitions_ of woman, than upon the +careful logic of the shrewdest man. In a word, dear child, you will be +my companion,--my divinity"-- + +"Divinity?" + +"Yes,--divinity! Tradition says that Lucretia Borgia was the most +wondrously beautiful woman of all her age; and if yonder canvas does +not flatter her, tradition does not lie. Now, you are living and more +beautiful than Lucretia Borgia, without her crimes. Yes, more lovely +than Lucretia, and,--pure as heaven's own light." + +"Pure as heaven's own light?" + +"You echo me,--and with a mocking smile. Woman! your beauty maddens +me! I adore you!" His face was flushed with passion,--his deep-set +eyes flamed with a fire that could not be mistaken,--his voice, +at other times deep as an organ, was tremulous and broken. First +pressing her clasped hands against his broad chest,--which heaved with +emotion,--he next girdled her waist with his sinewy arm, and despite +her struggles, drew her to his bosom. "Gaze upon yonder portrait! those +eyes are wildly beautiful, but pale when compared with yours. That +form is cast in the mould of voluptuous loveliness, but yours,--yours, +Esther,--yours--" + +Advancing toward the portrait, he pushed the hangings aside,--the +doorway of an adjoining apartment was revealed. + +"Come, Esther, by heavens you must be mine,--and now!" + +There was no mistaking the determination of that husky voice, the +passion of that bloodshot eye. + +Now pale as death, now covered from the bosom to the brow with burning +blushes, she struggled in his embrace, but in vain. He dragged her +near and nearer to the threshold--on the threshold (which divided the +Golden Room from the next apartment, where all was dark as midnight) +he paused, drew her struggling form to his breast, and stifled the cry +which rose to her lips, with burning kisses. + +With a desperate effort she glided from his arms, and the +next moment,--her hair unloosed on her bosom bared in the +struggle,--confronted him with the poniard gleaming over her head. + +"Hoary villain!" she cried, dilating in every inch of her stature, +until she seemed to rival his almost giant height,--"lay but a finger +on me and you shall pay for the outrage with your life!" + +Her head thrown back, her bared bosom swelling madly in the light, +her dark hair resting in one rich, wavy mass upon her neck and +shoulders,--it was a noble picture. And her eyes,--you should have seen +the flashing of her eyes! As for the statesman, with one foot upon the +threshold, he turned his face over his shoulder, thus exhibiting his +massive features in profile, and gazed upon her with a look which was +something between the sublime and the ridiculous; a strange mixture of +passion, wonder and chagrin. + +"Esther,----" + +"No doubt you can induce husbands to sell their wives to you;" the +eyes still flashed, and the poniard glittered overhead; "no doubt, +gray-haired fathers have sold their daughters to your embrace; nay, +even brothers, for a place, may have given their sisters to your +lust; but know," again that bitter word so bitterly said,--'_hoary +villain!_'--"know, hoary villain! that Esther Royalton will not sell +herself to you, even to purchase her brother's safety, his life, much +less her own! For know, that while there is a taint upon my blood, that +there is blood in my veins which never knew dishonor, the blood of ---- +----, whose grandchild stands before you!" + +As she named that name, Godlike repeated it from pure astonishment. + +"You a statesman! you a leader of the American people! Faugh! (Back! +Lay not a finger upon me as you value your life!) May God help the +Republic whose leaders play the farce of solemn statesmanship by +daylight, and at night seek their inspiration in the orgies of the +brothel!" + +"But, Esther, you mistake me; do not raise your voice,----" his face +flushed, his eyes bloodshot, he advanced toward her. + +At the same instant she caught the purpose of his eye, and with a blush +of mingled shame and anger, for the first time became aware that her +bosom was bared to the light. + +She retreated,--Godlike advanced,--she, brandishing the dagger,--he, +with his hands extended, his face mad with baffled passion. Thus +retreating, step by step before him, she reached the table, and cast a +lightning glance toward the lamp. + +"You shall be mine, I swear it!" He darted forward. + +But while her right hand held the dagger aloft, her left sought the +lamp, and even as he rushed forward with the oath on his lips, the +room was wrapt in utter darkness. + +He was foiled. A mocking laugh, which resounded through the darkness, +did not add to his composure. + +"Esther, Esther," he said, in a softer tone, endeavoring to smother his +rage, "I will not harm you, I swear it." + +And with his hands extended he advanced in the thick gloom; and Esther, +with the handle of her poniard, knocked thrice upon the ebony table. + +"Dearest Esther,"--he advanced in the direction from whence the +knocks proceeded, and came in contact with a form,--the form of a +voluptuous woman, with a young bosom warm with life, and young limbs +moulded in the flowing lines of the Medicean Venus? No. Precisely the +contrary. But he came in contact with a brawny form, which bounded +against him, pinioning his arms to his side, at the same moment that +another brawny form clasped him from behind. In a moment, ere he had +recovered the surprise caused by this double and unexpected embrace, +his arms were tied behind his back, a handkerchief was tightly bound +across his mouth, and a second kerchief across his eyes, he was lifted +from his feet, and borne upon the shoulders of two muscular men. It +was not dignified or statesmanlike, but,--historical truth demands +the record,--while in this position, the grave statesman kicked, +deliberately and wickedly kicked. But he kicked in vain. + +Presently he was placed upon his feet again, and seated in a chair +whose oaken back reached above his head, and whose oaken arms pressed +against his sides. He could not see, but he felt that light was shining +on his face. + +So suddenly had his capture been achieved, so strange and complete +was the transition from the pursuit of the beautiful Esther, to his +present blindfolded and helpless condition, that the statesman, for a +few moments, almost believed himself the victim of some grotesque and +frightful dream. + +All was silent around him. + +At length a voice was heard, hollow and distinct in its every tone,-- + +"Gabriel Godlike, you are now about to be put on trial before the Court +of Ten Millions." + +There was a long pause; and Godlike, on the moment, remembered every +detail which Harry Royalton had poured into his ears, concerning +this Court of Ten Millions; its power backed by ten millions of +dollars,--its jurisdiction over crimes that 'Courts of Justice' could +not reach,--its sessions held in the deep silence of night, and its +judgments executed as soon as pronounced. Vividly the story of Harry +rose before him; the accusation, the trial, the judgment, the lash, and +the back of the criminal covered with stripes and blood. + +"The Court of Ten Millions,"--the voice was heard again,--"as you are, +doubtless, aware, is thus called, because its power is backed by ten +millions of dollars. It exists to punish those crimes which, perchance, +from their very magnitude, go unpunished by other courts of justice. +It exists to judge and punish two classes of crime in especial: crimes +committed for the _love of money_, by the man who seeks to enjoy +_labor's fruits_, without sharing _labor's works_; crimes committed +by the man who uses his _wealth_, or _the accident of his social +position_, as the means of oppressing his fellow-creature, even the +poorest and the meanest. Your mind is profound in analysis. You are +able, at a glance, to trace nearly all the wrongs which desolate +society, and mar the purposes of God in this world, to the classes of +crimes which have been named." + +There was another long pause. Gabriel had time for thought. + +"Gabriel Godlike! Detected in a gross outrage upon a woman whom you +thought poor and friendless,--detected in using your wealth and your +social position as the means of achieving that woman's dishonor, you +are now about to be put on trial before the Court of Ten Millions." + +Another pause. Gabriel began to recover his scattered senses. The +bandage across his mouth concealed the sardonic smile which flitted +over his lips. + +"A sort of _Vixhme Gericht_,--something from the dark ages,"--he +ejaculated, mentally. And yet he did not feel comfortable. There was +Harry Royalton's back; he had seen it. "But _they_ would not dare to +flog a statesman,--me! Gabriel Godlike!" + +"Still you are at liberty to refuse a trial before this court,"--the +voice spoke again,--"but upon one condition. In a room not far removed +from this, removed from hearing, and yet within a moment's call, are +gathered at this moment a number of gentlemen, who have been summoned +to this house on various pretexts; gentlemen, you will remark, of all +political parties, high in social position, and bearing the reputation +of honorable minded and moral men. Your strongest political friends, +your bitterest political opponents are there." + +Gabriel began to listen with attention. + +"Now you may refuse to be tried before this court on one +condition,--that you will be exposed to the gaze of this party of +gentlemen, in your present state, with your masquerade attire, and in +presence of the woman whom, but a moment since, you threatened with a +gross outrage." + +Gabriel listened with keener interest. + +"If you doubt that this party of gentlemen, consisting of--(he named a +number of names familiar to Godlike's ear)--are within call, your doubt +can be solved in a moment." + +"It is an infernal trap," and Gabriel ground his teeth with suppressed +rage. + +"If you consent to be tried by this court, be pleased to give a gesture +of assent." + +Gabriel revolved for a moment within himself, and then slowly nodded +his head. + +The bandage was removed from his eyes, and the kerchief from his mouth. +He slowly surveyed the scene in which, much against his will, he found +himself an actor. + +It was a spacious apartment, resembling the Golden Room, the walls +were hung with black velvet, fringed with gold, and dotted with golden +flowers; the ceiling represented a gloomy sky, with the sun in the +center, struggling among clouds. It was the same to which he was about +to conduct Esther when she escaped from his arms and confronted him +with the poniard. + +But in place of the voluptuous couch which had stood there, with +silken pillows and canopy white as snow, there was a large table +covered with black cloth, and extending across the room from wall +to wall, and behind the table a raised platform, on which stood an +arm-chair, beneath a canopy of dark velvet. A lighted candle in an iron +candlestick, stood on the center of the table, and near it, a knotted +rope, a book, an inkstand, and a sheet of white paper. + +The judge of the court was seated in the arm-chair, under the shadow +of the canopy. His face Godlike could not see, for he wore a hat whose +ample brim concealed his features, but his white hair descended to the +collar of his coat. He wore an old-fashioned surtout of dark cloth, +with manifold capes, about the shoulders. His head was bent, his hands +clasped, his attitude that of profound quiet or profound thought. + +On his left, resting one hand on the arm of his chair, was Esther; her +white dress in bold relief with the dark background. Her unbound hair +increased the death-like pallor of her face, and her eyes shone with all +their fire. + +And on the right of the judge stood a huge negro, whose giant frame +was clad in a suit of sleek blue cloth, while his white cravat and +his wool, also of snow-like whiteness, increased the blackness of his +visage. It was, of course, old Royal. He also rested one hand on an arm +of the judge's chair. + +And on the right and left of Gabriel's chair, stood a muscular man, +whose features were hidden by a crape mask. + +The scene altogether was highly dramatic. The Borgian attire of Godlike +by no means detracted from its dramatic effect. + +The silence of the place,--the gloom scarcely broken by the light of +the solitary candle,--the contrast between this scene and the one in +which he had been an actor but a few moments previous,--all had their +effect upon the mind of the statesman. + +"A trap! get out of it as I may. An infernal trap!" + +Without raising his head, or removing his clasped hands from his +breast, the judge spoke, in an even and distinct, although hollow +voice,-- + +"You may still refuse to be tried by this court. Consent to be exposed +in your present condition to the gentlemen whom I have named, (and who +may be brought hither in an instant), and the trial will not proceed." + +The blood rushed to Gabriel's face, but he made no reply. + +"Or, if you doubt that those gentlemen are near, it is not too late to +remove your doubts." + +The veins began to swell on Gabriel's forehead. + +"Go on," he said, in a half-smothered tone. + +The judge extended his hand and placed a parchment in the hands of +Esther. + +"Read the accusation," he said, and in a voice at first low and faint, +but gradually growing stronger and deeper, Esther read, while a +death-like stillness prevailed: + +"Gabriel Godlike is accused of the following offenses against man, +against society, against God:-- + +"As a man of genius, intrusted by the Almighty with the noblest, the +most exalted powers, and bound to use those powers for the good of his +race, he has, in the course of his whole life, prostituted those powers +to the degradation and oppression of his race. + +"As a statesman, rivaling in intellect the three great names of the +nineteenth century, Clay, Calhoun and Webster, he has not, like +these great men, been governed by a high aim, an earnest-souled +sincerity. His intellect approaches theirs in powers, but as a man, +as a statesman, he has not exhibited their virtues. Wielding a vast +influence, and bound to use that influence in securing to the masses +such laws as will invest every man with the right to the full fruits +of his labor, and the possession of a home, he has lent his influence, +sold his intellect, mortgaged his official position, to those who +enslave labor in workshop and factory, defraud it in banks, and rob +the laborer--the freeman--of a piece of land which he may call by the +sacred title of home. + +"As a lawyer, having a profound knowledge of the technicalities of +written law, and an intuitive knowledge of that great law of God, which +proclaims that all men are brothers, bound to each other by ties of +reciprocal love and duty, he has used his knowledge of written law +to gloss over and sanction the grossest wrongs; he has darkened and +distorted the great laws of God to suit any case of social tyranny, no +matter how damning, how revolting, which he has been called upon to +defend for hire. + +"As a citizen, bound to illustrate in his life the purity of the +Christian, the integrity of the republican, he has never known the +affections of a wife, or children, but his private career has been one +long catalogue of the basest appetites, gratified at the expense of +every tie of truth and honor. + +"In his long career, he has exhibited that saddest of all +spectacles:--a lawyer, with no sense of right or wrong, higher than +his fee; a statesman, regarding himself not as the representative of +the people, but as the feed and purchased lawyer of a class; a man of +god-like intellect, without faith in God, without love for his race." + +Esther concluded; her face was radiant, but her eyes dimmed with tears. + +"Gabriel Godlike, what say you to this accusation?" exclaimed the judge. + +A sardonic smile agitated the lips of the statesman, but he made +no reply in words. At the same time, despite his attempt to meet +the accusation with a sneer, its words rung in his very soul, and +especially the closing clause, "_without faith in God, without love to +his race_." + +Gabriel's head sank slowly on his breast, and his down-drawn brows hid +his eyes from the light. He was thinking of other years; of the promise +of his young manhood; of the dark realities of his maturer years. The +judge spoke again. + +"Gabriel Godlike, you are silent. You have no reply. In your own soul +and before Heaven, you know that every word of the accusation is true. +You cannot deny it. Your own soul and conscience convict you." + +He paused; again the mocking sneer crossed Gabriel's lips, but a crowd +of emotions were busy at his heart. The judge proceeded, in a measured +tone. Every word fell distinctly upon the statesman's unwilling ears: + +"Gabriel Godlike, you may smile at the idea of being held accountable +to God and man, for the use which you have made of your talents in the +last forty years, but there will come an hour when History will pass +its judgment upon you; there will come an hour when God will demand of +you the intellect which he has intrusted to your care. That hour will +come. Then, what will be your answer to Almighty God? 'Lord, thou +didst intrust me with superior intellect, to be used for the good of my +brothers of the human family; and after a life of sixty years, I can +truly say, I have never once used that intellect for the elevation of +mankind, and have never once failed, when appetite or ambition tempted, +to squander it in the basest lusts.' What a record will this be for +history; what an answer to be rendered to Almighty God! + +"Gabriel Godlike! Great men are placed upon earth, as the prophets +and apostles of the poor. It is their vocation to speak the wrongs +which the poor suffer, but are unable to tell; it is their mission to +find the deepest thought which God has implanted in the breast of the +age, and to carry that thought into action, or die. What has been the +thought struggling in the bosom of the last fifty years? A thought vast +as the providence of God, which, whether called by the name of Social +Progress, or Social Re-organization, or by whatsoever name, still looks +forward to the day when social misery will be annihilated; when the +civilization will no longer show itself only in the awful contrast of +the few, immersed in superfluous wealth,--of the many, immersed in +poverty, in crime, in despair; a day, when in truth, the gospel of the +New Testament will no longer be the hollow echo of the sounding-board +above the pulpit, but an every-day verity, carried with deeds along all +the ways of life, and manifested in the physical comfort as well as the +moral elevation of all men. + +"Something like this has been the thought of the last fifty--yes, of +the last hundred years. It was the secret heart of our own Revolution. +It was the great truth, whose features you may read even beneath the +blood-red waves of the French Revolution. And in the nineteenth century +this thought has called into action legions of noble-hearted men, who +have earnestly endeavored to carry it into action. It has had its +confessors, its saints, its martyrs. + +"Gabriel Godlike! In the course of your long career, what have you done +to aid the development of this thought? Alas! alas! Look back upon your +life! In all your career, not one brave blow for man--your brother--not +one, not one! As a lawyer, the hired vassal of any wealthy villain, or +class of villains; as a legislator, not a statesman, but always the +paid special pleader of heartless monopoly and godless capital; as a +man, your intellect always towers among the stars, while your moral +character sinks beneath the kennel's mud! Such has been your life; +such is the use to which you have bent your powers. Like the sublime +egotist, Napoleon Bonaparte, you regarded the world as a world without +a God, and mankind as the mere creatures of your pleasure and your +sport. If the poor wretch, who, driven mad by hunger, steals a loaf of +bread, is branded as a CRIMINAL, and adjudged to darkness and chains, +by what name, Gabriel Godlike, shall we call _you_? what judgment shall +_we_ pronounce upon your head?" + +The judge arose, and with his face shaded from the light, and his +white hairs falling to his shoulders, he extended his hand toward the +CRIMINAL. + +There was a blush of _shame_ upon Gabriel's downcast forehead; shame, +mingled with suppressed rage. + +"Shall we adjudge you to the lash?" and the judge looked first to +Gabriel, then to the giant negro by his side. + +Godlike raised his head; Esther shuddered as she beheld his look. + +"The lash!" he echoed,--"No, by ----! The man does not live who dares +speak of such a thing." + +"I live, and I speak of it," responded the judge, calmly. "You forget +that you are in my power; and, as you are well aware, (it is a maxim +upon which you have acted all your life,) 'MIGHT MAKES RIGHT.' And why +should you shudder at the mention of the lash? What is the torture, the +disgrace of the lash, compared with the torture and disgrace which your +deeds have inflicted upon thousands of your fellow men?" + +Godlike uttered a frightful oath.--"You will drive me mad!" and he +ground his teeth in impotent rage. It was a pitiful condition for a +great statesman. + +"No, no; the lash is too light a punishment for a criminal of your +magnitude. Prisoner, stand up and hear the sentence of the court!" + +Gabriel had a powerful will, but the will which spoke in the voice of +that old man, his judge, was more powerful than his own. Reluctantly +he arose to his feet, his broad chest panting and heaving beneath its +scarlet attire. + +"Unbind his arms." The masked attendants obeyed. Gabriel's bands were +free. + +"Secure him, at the first sign of resistance or of disobedience." + +The judge calmly proceeded-- + +"Gabriel Godlike, hear the sentence of the court. You will affix your +own proper signature to two documents, which will now be presented to +you. After which you are free." + +Gabriel could not repress an ejaculation. The simplicity of the +sentence struck him with astonishment. + +"Hand the prisoner the first document, which he may read," said the +judge. Pale and trembling, Esther advanced, and, passing the table, +placed a paper in the hands of Godlike, which he read: + + "NEW YORK, Dec. 24th, 1844. + + "The undersigned, Gabriel Godlike, hereby acknowledges that he was + this day detected in the act of attempting a gross outrage upon + the person of Esther Royalton, whom he had inveigled to a house of + improper report, No. --, ---- street, New York: an outrage which, + investigated before a court of law, would justly consign him to the + State's Prison. + + "Signed in presence of: + { + {." + +No words can picture the rage which corrugated Godlike's visage as he +perused this singular document. + +"No, I will not sign!"--he fixed his flaming eyes upon Esther's pallid +face--"not if you rend me into fragments." + +"Esther," said the judge, calmly, "call the gentlemen from the +neighboring apartment. Tell them that the purpose for which I summoned +them will be explained in this room." + +Esther cast a glance upon Godlike's flushed visage, and moved to the +door,-- + +"Stay! I will--I will!" Shame and mortification choked his utterance. +He advanced to the table and signed his name to the paper. + +The judge drew his broad-brimmed hat deeper over his brows, and +advanced to the table.--"I will witness your signature," he quietly +observed, and signed a name which Godlike would have given five years +of his life to have read. + +"The second document rests on the table before you. The writing is +concealed by a sheet of paper. You will sign without reading it. There +is the place for your signature." And he pushed the concealed document +across the table. + +"This is too much,--it is infamous," said Godlike, between his teeth. +"How do I know what I am signing? I will not do it." He sank back +doggedly in his chair; the perspiration stood in thick beads upon his +brow. + +"Esther," (she lingered on the threshold, as the judge addressed her,) +"tell Mr. Godlike's friends that he will be glad to see them." + +Oh! bitterly, in that moment, did the fallen statesman pay for the +misdeeds of years! As if urged from his seat by an influence beyond +his control, he rose and advanced to the table, his brow deformed by +the big veins of helpless rage, his eyes bloodshot with suppressed +fury,--he signed his name. His hand trembled like a leaf. + +"Now, now--am I free?" he cried, beating the table with his clenched +hand. "Have you done with me?" He turned his gaze from Esther, who +stood trembling on the threshold, to the judge, who, with his shadowed +face, stood calm and composed before him. + +"I will witness your signature," said the judge, and again signed that +name, which Godlike, even amid his wrath, endeavored, and in vain, to +read. + +At the same instant he placed his hand upon the candle, and all was +darkness. In less time than it takes to record it, Godlike was seized, +pinioned and blindfolded. + +"You will be taken to your dressing-room, in which you will resume your +usual attire, after which, without questioning or seeing any one, you +will quietly leave this house. As for the gentlemen whom I summoned to +this house to look upon your disgrace, I will manage to dismiss them, +without mentioning your name." + +"And the papers which you have forced me to sign?" interrupted Gabriel. + +"Do not speak of force. There was no force save the compulsion of your +own crimes. And I give you fair warning that those papers which you +have signed here in darkness, you will be asked to sign yet once again +in broad daylight. Go, sir: for the present we have done with you." + +And as in thick darkness he was led from the hall, trembling with rage +and shame, the voice of the judge once more broke on his ears, but this +time not addressed to him: + +"Pity, good Lord! Pardon me, if I am wrong!" + +It was the voice of earnest prayer. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE BRIDAL CHAMBER. + + +It was the bridal chamber. A strange hour, and a strange bridal! + +In the luxurious apartment, where Nameless and Frank first met, a Holy +Bible was placed wide open upon a table, or altar, covered with a +snow-white cloth. On either side of the book were placed wax candles, +shedding their clear light around the room, upon the details of the +place, and upon the gorgeous curtains of the marriage-bed. + +Frank and Nameless joined hands beside that altar, before the opened +Bible. Never had Frank's magnetic beauty shone with such peculiar +power. She was clad in black velvet, her dark hair gathered plainly +aside from her brow, and the white cross rose and fell with every throb +of her bosom. Nameless wore the black tunic which, with his dark brown +hair, threw his features into strong relief. The golden cross hung on +his breast, over his heart. He was pale, as if with intense thought, +but his large, gray eyes met the gaze of Frank, as though his soul was +riveted there. + +And thus they joined hands, near the morning hour. + +The Rev. Dr. Bulgin stood a little in the background, his broad red +face glowing in the light. His cardinal's attire thrown aside, he +appeared in sleek black, with the eternal white cravat about his neck. +There was the flush of champagne upon the good doctor's florid face. + +Behind Nameless stood Colonel Tarleton, dressed as the hidalgo, his +right hand grasping a roll of paper, raised to his mouth, and his eyes +gazing fixedly from beneath his down-drawn brows. It was _the_ moment +of his life. + +"Once married and the way is clear!" he thought. "To think of it--after +twenty-one years my hand grasps the prize!" + +"We will walk through life together," said Frank, pressing the hand of +Nameless. + +"And devote our wealth to the elevation of the unfortunate and the +fallen!" he responded, as a vision of future good gave new fire to his +eye. And then he pressed his hand to his forehead, for his temples +throbbed. A vivid memory of every event of his past life started up +suddenly before his soul, every event invested with the familiar +faces, the well-known voices of other days. He raised his eyes to +the face of Frank, and the singular influence which seemed to invest +her like an atmosphere, again took possession of him. It was not the +influence of passion, nor the spell of her mere loveliness, although +her person was voluptuously moulded, and the deep red in the center of +her rich brown cheek, told the story of a warm and passionate nature; +but it was as though her very soul, embodied in her lustrous eyes, +encircled and possessed his own. + +Was it love, in the common acceptation of the word? Was it fascination? +Was it the result of sympathy between two lives, each of which had been +made the sport of a dark and singular destiny? + +"Had not we better go on?" said Dr. Bulgin, mildly. "Summoned to this +house to celebrate these nuptials at this unusual hour, I feel somewhat +fatigued with the duties of the day," and he winked at Tarleton. + +"Proceed," said Tarleton, pressing the right hand, with the roll of +paper to his lip. + +The marriage service was deliberately said in the rich, bold voice of +the eloquent Dr. Bulgin. The responses were duly made. The ring was +placed upon the finger of the bride, and the white cross sparkled in +the light, as it rose with the swell of her proud bosom. + +"Husband," she whispered, as their lips met, "I have been sacrificed to +others, but I never loved but you, and I will love you till I die." And +she spoke the truth. + +"Wife!"--he called that sacred name in a low and softened voice,--"let +the past be forgotten. Arisen from the graves of our past lives, it +is our part to begin life anew." And his tone was that of truth and +enthusiasm. + +"My son!"--Tarleton started forward and clasped Nameless by the +hand,--"Gulian, my son, let the past be forgotten,--forgiven, and let +us look only to the future! The proudest aspiration of my life is +fulfilled!" + +Nameless returned his grasp with a cordial pressure; but at the same +instant a singular sensation crept like a chill through his blood. Was +the presence of the dead father near at the moment when his son joined +hands with the false brother? + +"Here, my boy," continued Tarleton, laughingly, as he spread forth +upon the table the roll of paper which he had held to his lip; "sign +this, and we will bid you good night. It's a mere matter of form, you +know. Nay, Frank, you must not see it; you women know nothing of these +matters of business." Motioning his daughter back, he placed pen and +ink before Nameless, and then quietly arranged his dark whiskers and +smoothed his black hair; and yet his hand trembled. + +Nameless took the pen, and bent over the table and read:-- + + DECEMBER 24, 1844. + + TO DR. MARTIN FULMER:-- + + _This day I transfer and assign to my wife, Frances Van Huyden, all my + right, title, and interest in the estate of my deceased father, Gulian + Van Huyden; and hereby promise, on my word of honor, to hold this + transfer sacred at all times, and to make it binding (if requested), + by a document drawn up according to the forms of law._ + +Nameless dipped the pen in the ink, and was about to sign, when Frank +suddenly drew the paper from beneath his hand. She read it with a +kindling cheek and flashing eye. + +"For shame!" she cried, turning to her father, "for shame!" and was +about to rend it in twain, when Nameless seized her wrist, and took the +paper from her hand. + +"Nay, Frank, I will sign," he exclaimed, and put the pen to the paper. + +"O, father," whispered Frank, with a glance of burning indignation, +"this is too much--" Her words were interrupted by the sudden opening +of the door. + +"Is there no way of escape,--none?"--a voice was heard exclaiming these +words, in tones of fright and madness,--"Is there no way of escape from +this abode of ruin and death?" + +The pen dropped from the hand of Nameless. That voice congealed the +blood in his veins. + +Turning his head over his shoulders, he saw the speaker,--while +the whole scene swam for a moment before his eyes,--saw that young +countenance, now wild with affright, on which was imprinted the +stainless beauty of a pure and virgin soul. + +"The grave has given up its dead!" he cried, and staggered toward the +phantom which rose between him and the door; the phantom of a young and +beautiful woman, clad in the faded garments of poverty and toil; her +unbound hair streaming wildly about her face, her eyes dilating with +terror, her clasped hands strained against her agitated bosom. + +"The grave has given up its dead," he cried. "Mary!" O, how that name +awoke the memories of other days! "Mary! when last I saw thee, thou +wert beside my coffin, while my soul communed with thine." And again he +called that sacred name. + +It was no phantom, but a living and beautiful woman. She saw his +face,--she uttered a cry,--she knew him. + +"Gulian!" she cried, and spread forth her arms. Not one thought that he +had died and been buried,--she saw him living,--she knew him,--he was +before her,--that was all. "Husband!" + +He rushed to her embrace, but even as his arms were outspread to clasp +her form, he fell on his knees. His head rested against her form, his +hands clasped her knees. The emotion of the moment had been too much +for him; he had fainted at her feet. + +She knelt beside him, and took his head to her bosom, and pressed her +lips against his death-like forehead, and then her loosened hair hid +his face from the light. She wept aloud. + +"Husband!" + +At this moment turn your gaze to the marriage altar. Dr. Bulgin is +still there, gazing in dumb surprise, first upon the face of Frank, +then upon her father. It is hard to tell which looks most ghastly +and death-like. Tarleton looks like a man who has been stricken by a +thunderbolt. Frank rests one hand upon the marriage altar, and raises +the other to her forehead. For a moment death seems busy at her heart. + +With a desperate effort, Tarleton rallies his presence of mind. + +"Good evening, or, rather, good morning, doctor," he says, and then +points to the door. The reverend gentleman takes the hint, and quietly +fades from the room. + +At times like this, one moment of resolve is worth an age. Tarleton's +face is colorless, but he sees, with an ominous light in his eyes, +the way clear before him. He turns aside for a moment, to the cabinet +yonder, and from a small drawer, takes a slender vial, filled with a +colorless liquid; then quietly glides to his daughter's side. + +"Frank!"--she raises her head,--their eyes meet. He holds the vial +before her face--"your husband has fainted; this will revive him." That +singular smile discloses his white teeth. Frank reads his meaning at +a glance. O, the unspeakable agony,--the conflict between two widely +different emotions, which writhes over her face! + +"No, father, no! It must not be," and she pushes the vial from her +sight. + +His words, uttered rapidly, and in a whisper, come through his set +teeth,--"It must be,--the game cannot be lost now; in twelve hours, you +know, this vial will do its work, and _leave no sign_!" + +An expression which he cannot read, crosses her face. A moment of +profound and harrowing thought,--a glance at the kneeling girl, who +hides in her flowing hair, the face of her unconscious husband. + +"Be it so," Frank exclaims, "give me the vial; I will administer it." +Taking the vial from her father's hand, she advances to the cabinet, +and for a moment bends over the open drawer. + +And the next instant she is kneeling beside Nameless and the weeping +girl. + +"Mary!" whispers Frank, and the young wife raises her face from her +husband's forehead, and they gaze in each other's face,--a contrast +which you do not often behold. The face of Frank, dark-hued at other +times, and red with passion on the cheek and lip, but now, lividly +pale, and only expressing the intensity of her organization in the +lightning glance of the eyes,--the face of Mary, although touched by +want and sorrow, bearing the look of a guileless, _happy_ soul in every +outline, and shining all the love of a pure woman's nature from the +large, clear eyes. It was as though night and morning had met together. + +"Mary!" said Frank,--her hand trembling, but her purpose firm,--"your +husband will die unless aid is rendered at once. Let me revive him." + +Before Mary can frame a word in reply, she places the vial to the +lips of Nameless, and does not remove her hand until the last drop is +emptied. Tarleton yonder watches the scene, with his head drooping on +his breast, and his hand raised to his chin. + +"He will revive presently," Frank exclaims with a smile. + +"God bless you, generous woman,----" + +But Frank does not wait to receive her thanks. + +Returning to her father's side,--"Come, let us leave them, _now_," she +whispers; "_now_ that your request is obeyed." + +"But he must not die in this house." + +"O, you will have time, ample time to remove him before the vial has +done its work,"--a bitter smile crosses her face,--"Leave them together +for an hour at least. Let them at least enjoy one hour of life, before +his eyes are closed in death; only one hour, father!" + +She takes her father by the hand, and hurries him from the room,--let +us not dare to read the emotions now contending on her corpse-like +face. From that room, which was to have been her bridal chamber,--the +starting-point of a new and happy life! + +"I must now see after the _other_," Tarleton soliloquizes, as he +crossed the threshold. "_This one_ removed, _the other_ must be ready +for _to-morrow_." + +And Frank and her father leave the room. + +The chest of Nameless began to heave,--his eyes gradually unclosed. +With a vacant glance he surveyed the apartment. + +"It is a dream," he said. + +But there were arms about his neck, kisses on his lips, a warm cheek +laid next to his own. Certainly not the clasp, the kiss, or the +pressure of a dream. + +"Not in a dream, Carl," she said, calling, him by the name which he had +borne in other days. + +"Carl? Who calls me Carl?" + +"Not in a dream, Carl, but living and restored to me." + +Even as he lay in her arms, his head resting on her young bosom, he +raised his eyes and beheld her face. + +"Mary!" + +"Thou art my husband!" + +"Thou art my wife!" + +That moment was a full recompense for all they had suffered, yes, for +a lifetime of suffering and anguish. They forgot everything,--the +dark past,--the strange chance or providence which had brought them +together,--they only felt that they were living and in each other's +arms. + +At sight of the pure, holy face of Mary, all consciousness of the +fascination which Frank had held over him, passed like the memory of a +dream from the soul of Nameless. + +"O, Mary, wife, thou art living,--God is good," he said, as she bent +over him, baptizing his lips with kisses, and his face with tears. +"Do you remember that hour, when I lay in the coffin, while you bent +over me, and our souls talked to each other, without the medium of +words: 'you have seen him for the last time,' they said; 'not for the +last time,--we will meet again,' was your reply. And now we have met! +Mary--wife! let us never accuse Providence again, for God is good!" + +Moment of joy too deep for words. + +Drink every drop of the cup, now held to your lips, Carl Raphael! For +even, as the arms of your young wife are about your neck, even as her +young bosom throbs against your cheek, and you count the beatings of +her heart, death spreads his shadow over you. The poison is in your +veins,--your young life is about to set in this world forever. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE SCARLET CHAMBER. + + +Having once more resumed the attire of Leo the Tenth,--scarlet robe, +cap, with nodding plumes and cross with golden chain; Dr. Bulgin was +hurrying along a dark passage on his way to the Scarlet Chamber, +where his nephew awaited him. The Scarlet Chamber was at the end of +the passage; as he drew near it, the Doctor's reflections grew more +pleasant and comfortable. It may be as well to make record, that after +he had left the Bridal Chamber, he had refreshed himself with a fresh +bottle of champagne. + +"Odd scene that in the room of Tarleton's daughter! Very +dramatic,--wish I knew what it all meant. However my 'nephew;'" a rich +chuckle resounded from the depths of his chest--"'my nephew' awaits +me, and after another bottle in the Scarlet Chamber, I must see _her_ +safely home. It is not such a bad world after all." + +Thus soliloquizing he arrived at the end of the passage, and his head +was laid against the door of the Scarlet Chamber. + +"Cozy place,--bottle of wine,--good company--" + +"Hush!" whispered a voice. + +"That you Julia? What are you doing out here in the dark?" he wound his +arms about his nephew's waist. "Waiting for me?" + +"Do not,--do not," she gasped, struggling to free herself from his +arms,--"Do not enter,--" + +"Tush, child! you're nervous,--" and despite the struggles, he gathered +his arm closer around her waist, pushed open the door and entered the +Scarlet Room. + +A quiet little apartment, lighted by a hanging lamp, whose mild beams +softened the glare of the rich scarlet hangings. There was a sofa +covered with red velvet, a table, on which stood a bottle, with two +long necked glasses, and from an interval in the hangings, gleamed the +vision of a snow-white couch. Altogether, a place worthy the private +devotions of Leo the Tenth, or of any gentleman of his exquisite taste, +and eccentric piety. + +"What's the matter child? You're pale, and have been crying,--" +exclaimed Bulgin, as he bore her over the threshold, and paused for +a moment to gaze upon her face, which was bare to the light, the cap +having fallen from her brow. As he spoke his back was to the sofa. + +"There," was the only word which she had power to frame, and bursting +into tears, she pointed over his shoulders to the sofa. + +Somewhat surprised, Dr. Bulgin turned on his heel, the white plumes +nodding over his bulky face, and,---- + +There are some scenes which must be left to the imagination. + +On the sofa, sat three grave gentlemen, clad in solemn black, their +severe features, rendered even more stern and formal, by the relief of +a white cravat. Each of these gentlemen held his hat in one hand, and +in the other a cane, surmounted by a head of white bone. + +As Bulgin turned, the three gentlemen quietly rose, and said politely, +with one voice: + +"Good morning Dr. Bulgin." + +And then as quietly sat down again. + +The Doctor looked as though he had been lost in a railroad collision. +He was paralyzed. He had not even the presence of mind, to release the +grasp which gathered the young form of his lovely nephew to his side. + +The exact position of affairs, at this crisis, will be better +understood, when you are informed, that in these three gentlemen, the +Rev. Dr. Bulgin recognized Mr. Watkins, Mr. Potts, and Mr. Burns, the +leading members, perchance Deacons of his wealthy congregation. The one +with the slight form, and short stiff gray, hair,--Watkins. Mr. Potts, +is a small man, with a bald head, and the slightest tendency in the +world to corpulence. Mr. Burns is tall and lean, with angular features, +and an immense nose. Altogether, as grave and respectable men as you +will meet in a day's walk, from Wall Street, to the head of Broadway. +But what do they in the TEMPLE, at any time, but especially at this +unusual hour? + +That was precisely the question which troubled Bulgin. + +"W-e-l-l Gentle-m-e-n," he said, not exactly knowing what else to say. + +To which they all responded with a singular unanimity,--"W-e-l-l +D-o-c-t-o-r!" + +"Did not I,--did not I,--tell,--tell you not to come in here?" sobbed +the nephew,--that is Julia. + +Mr. Watkins arose and passed his hand through his stiff gray hair,-- + +"Allow me to compliment you upon the becoming character of your +costume!" and sat down again. + +Then Mr. Potts, whose bald head shone in the light as he rose,-- + +"And allow me to congratulate you upon the character of this house, and +especially the elegant seclusion of this chamber." And Mr. Potts sat +down. + +Mr. Burns' lean form next ascended, and his nose seemed to increase in +size, as he projected it in a low bow,-- + +"And allow me,--" what a deep voice! "to congratulate you upon the +society of your companion, who becomes her male attire exceedingly." +And Mr. Burns gravely resumed his seat. + +"Did--I--not--tell, tell--you,--n-o-t to come in," sobbed Julia. + +The Doctor's face was partly hidden by his plumes, but that portion of +it which was visible, resembled nothing so much in color, as a boiled +lobster. + +It now occurred to the Doctor, to release his grasp upon the waist of +Julia. He left her to herself, and she fell on her knees, burying her +face in her hands. As for the Doctor himself, he _slid_ slowly into a +chair, never once removing his gaze, from the three gentlemen on the +sofa. Thus confronting them in his cardinal's attire, with the white +plumes nodding over his forehead, he seemed, in the language of the +chairman of a town meeting, "to be waiting for this here meeting to +proceed to business." + +There was a pause,--a painful and embarrassing pause. + +The three sat like statues, only that Mr. Potts rubbed the end of his +nose, with the top of his cane. + +Why could not Dr. Bulgin, after the manner of the Genii in the Arabian +Nights, disappear through the floor, in a cloud of mist and puff of +perfume? + +"Well,--gentlemen,--" said Bulgin at last, for the dead silence began +to drive him mad, and made him hear all sorts of noises, in his +ears,--"what are _you_ doing in _this place_, at this _unusual_ hour!" + +This was a pointed question, to which Mr. Burns felt called upon to +reply. He rose, and again the nose loomed largely, as he bowed,-- + +"Precisely the question which we were about to ask you," he said, and +was seated again. + +Mr. Potts took his turn: + +"For a long time we have heard rumors," he said rising, "rumors +concerning our pastor, of a painful nature. And although we did not +credit them, yet they troubled us. Last night, however, we each +received a letter, from an unknown person, who informed us, that in +case we visited this house, between midnight and daybreak, we would +discover our pastor, in company with the wife of an aged member of our +church. As the letter inclosed the password, by which admittance is +gained to this place, we took counsel upon the matter, and concluded to +come. And,--" + +"And,--" interrupted Watkins, rising solemnly, and extending the +forefinger of his right hand, toward Bulgin, "and _now we see_!" + +"And now we _see_!" echoed Mr. Watkins, absently shutting one eye, as +he regarded Bulgin's face. + +"We _all_ see," remarked Mr. Potts resuming his seat, and then as if to +clinch the matter--"and with _our own_ eyes!" + +Bulgin never before fully appreciated the meaning of the word +"embarrassed." His wits had never failed him before; would they fail +him now? He made an effort-- + +"Why, gentlemen, the truth is, I was summoned to this house, on +professional duty,--" he began. + +Mr. Potts groaned; they all groaned. + +"In _that_ costume?" asked Potts. + +"And with _madam_ there?" asked Watkins. + +"Pro-fessi-o-n-a-l d-u-t-y!" thus Watkins in a hollow voice. + +'Professional duty' would not do; evidently not. Foiled on this tack, +the good Doctor tried another: + +"The truth is," he began, with remarkable composure,--"I had been +informed that Mrs. Parkins here,--" he pointed to the sobbing "nephew" +otherwise Julia, and drew his chair nearer to the three, gradually +softening his voice into a confidential whisper,--"Mrs. Parkins, the +young wife of my aged friend Parkins, had been so far led away by the +insinuating manners of a young man of fashion, as to promise to meet +him in this improper place. Desirous to save the wife of my aged friend +at all hazards, I assumed this dress,--the one which her seducer was to +wear,--and came to this place, and,--rescued her. Do you understand?" + +That "do you understand," was given in one of his most insinuating +whispers; "and thus you see I periled my reputation in order to +save,--_her_!" + +What effect this story would have had upon the three, had it been +suffered to travel unquestioned, it is impossible to tell. But low +and softly as the Doctor whispered, he was overheard by his "nephew," +otherwise, Julia. + +"Don't lie, Doctor," she said quite tartly as she knelt on the floor. +"I was not led away by any young man of fashion, and I did _not_ come +here to meet any young man of fashion. I _was_ led away by _you_, and I +came here with _you_." + +Thus speaking, Julia rose from her knees, and came to the Doctor's +side, thus presenting to the sight of the three gentlemen, the figure +of a very handsome woman, dressed in blue frock coat and trowsers. +She was somewhat tall, luxuriously proportioned, with a fine bust +and faultless arms, her hair, chestnut brown, and her complexion a +delicate mingling of "strawberries and cream." "A dem foine woman," +the exquisite of Broadway would have called her. There was not so +much of intellect in her face, as there was health, youth, passion. +Married to a man of her own age, and whom she loved, she doubtless +would have risen above temptation, and always proved a faithful wife, +an affectionate mother. But sold by her parents, in the mockery of +a marriage, to a man old enough to be her father,--perchance her +grandfather,--transferred at the age of seventeen, like a bale of +merchandise, to the possession of one whom she could not revere as a +father, or love as a husband,--we behold her before us, the victim of +the reverend tempter. + +"You know, Doctor, that you led me away, you know you did," she cried, +sobbing, "now did you not?" She bent down her head and looked into his +face. "You can't say you didn't. No more he can't," and she turned in +mute appeal to the three gentlemen. + +"Evidently _not_," exclaimed Mr. Potts, who in his younger days had +been somewhat wild, "that cock won't fight!" he continued, using a +figure of speech, derived from the experience of said younger days. + +As for the Doctor, he mentally wished the beautiful Mrs. Julia Parkins +in Kamschatka. + +"Never have an affair with a _fool_ again, as long as I live!" he +muttered. + +"And while you soothed my poor old husband, on that doctrinal point; +you,--you," sobbed Julia, "told me how handsome I was, and what a shame +it was for me, to be jailed up with an old man like that. Yes, you said +_jailed_. And how it was no harm for me to love you, and that it was no +harm for you to love me. And I heard you preach, and you came to the +house, day after day, and,--" poor Julia could not go on for sobbing. + +The three gentlemen groaned. + +As for Dr. Bulgin, he calmly rose from his seat, and taking the +corkscrew from the tray on the table, proceeded quietly to draw the +cork of a bottle of champagne. This accomplished, he filled a long +necked glass to the brim with foaming Heidsick. + +"Jig's up, gentlemen," he said, bowing to the three, as he tossed +off the glass, and regarded them with a smile of matchless +impudence,--"Jig's up!" + +"What does he mean by 'jig's up?'" asked Mr. Burns of Mr. Potts, in a +very hollow voice. + +"He means," returned Bulgin himself, straightening up, and rubbing his +broad chest with his fat hand, "that the jig is up. You've found me +out. There's no use of lying about it. And now that you have found me +out,--" he paused, filled another glass, and contemplated the three, +over its brim,--"allow me to ask, what do you intend to do?" + +He took a sip from the glass. The three were thunderstruck. + +"Cool!" exclaimed Mr. Potts, punching the toe of his boot with his cane. + +"You _can't_ expose me," continued Bulgin, as he took another sip: +"that would create _scandal_, you know, and hurt the church more than +it would me." + +The rich impudence of the Doctor's look, would "have made a cat laugh." + +"We _will_ expose you!" cried Watkins, hollowly, with an emphatic +nodding of his nose. "The truth demands it. As long as you are suffered +to prowl about in this way, no man's wife, sister, or daughter is safe." + +"No man's wife, sister, or daughter is safe!" echoed Mr. Potts. + +"Did I ever tempt _your_ wife, Burns?" coolly asked Bulgin,--Burns +winced, for his wife was remarkably plain. + +"Or your sister, Potts?" Potts colored to the eyes; his sister was a +miracle of plainness. + +"Or your daughter, Watkins?" Watkins felt the thrust, for his daughter +was as plain as Burns' wife and Potts' sister combined. + +"Be assured I never will," continued Bulgin--"now, what do you intend +to do? Expose me and ruin this poor creature here?"--"Don't call me a +poor creature, you brute!" indignantly interrupted Julia. "Publish me +in the papers, dismiss me from the church, give my name to be a by-word +in the mouths of scoffers and infidels? Gravely, gentlemen, is that +what you mean to do? Let us reflect a little. You pay me a good salary; +I preach you good sermons. Granted. My practice may be a little loose, +but, is not my doctrine orthodox? Where can you get a preacher who will +draw larger crowds? And is it worth your while, merely on account of a +little weakness like this,"--he pointed to Julia,--"to disgrace me and +the church together?" + +The Doctor saw by their faces, that he had made an impression. They +conversed together in low tones, and with much earnestness. Meanwhile, +Julia sobbed and Bulgin took another glass of champagne. + +"Will you solemnly promise,"--Burns knocked his cane on the floor, +and emphasised each word, "to be more careful of your conduct in the +future, in case we overlook the present offense?" + +"Cordially, gentlemen, and upon my honor!" cried Bulgin, rising from +his seat, "I will take Julia quietly home, and to-morrow commence life +anew. I give you my hand upon it." + +He advanced, and shook them by the hand. + +"If you keep your word, this will suit me," said Burns, with gloomy +cordiality. + +"And me," echoed Watkins. + +"And me," responded Potts. + +"But it will not suit me!" cried a strange voice, which started the +whole company to their feet. The voice came from behind the hangings +which concealed the bed. It was a firm voice, and deep as a well. + +"It will not suit me, I say," and from the hangings the unknown speaker +emerged with a measured stride. + +He was a tall man, somewhat bent in the shoulders, and wore a long +cloak, of an _antique_ fashion, which was fastened to his neck by a +golden clasp. His white hairs were covered by an old-fashioned fur-cap; +his eyes hidden by large green glasses, and the furred collar of his +cloak, concealed the lower part of his face. An aged man, evidently, as +might be seen by his snow-white hair, and the wrinkles on the exposed +portion of his face, but his step was strong and measured, and his +voice firm and clear. + +"And who are _you_?" cried Bulgin, recovering from his surprise. His +remark was chorused by the others. + +"A pew-holder in your church," emphatically exclaimed the cloaked +individual. "Let that suffice you. Gentlemen,"--turning his back +on Bulgin, he lifted his cap and exposed his forehead to the three +gentlemen,--"you know me?" + +With one impulse, they pronounced a name; and it was plainly to be seen +that they respected that name, and its owner. + +"This compromise does not suit me," said the cloaked gentleman, turning +abruptly to Bulgin. "You are a villain, sir. It is men like you who +bring the Gospel of Christ into contempt. You are an atheist, sir. It +is men like you who fill the world with infidels. I have borne with you +long enough. I will bear with you no longer. You shall be exposed, sir." + +This style of attack, as impetuous as a charge of bayonets, evidently +startled the good Doctor. + +"Who are _you_?" he asked, sneeringly. + +"I am the man who wrote the letters to these three gentlemen, +yesterday," dryly responded the cloaked gentleman. + +"This is a conspiracy," growled Bulgin. "Take care, sir! There is a law +for conspirators against character and reputation--" + +"Baugh!" responded the old gentleman, shrugging his shoulders; and then +he beckoned with his hand, toward the recess in which stood the bed. +"Come in," he said, "it is time." + +Two persons emerged from the recess; one, an old man, of portly form, +and mild, good-humored face--now, alas! dark and corrugated with +suppressed wrath; the other, a slender woman, with pale face, and +large, intellectual eyes,--and a baby, sleeping on her bosom. + +Bulgin uttered an oath. + +"My wife!--her father!" was all he could utter. + +"I have summoned you from your home in the country," said the cloaked +gentleman, "to meet me at this house at this unusual hour, to show you +the husband and son-in-law in his festival attire, and in company with +his paramour.--Look at him! Isn't he beautiful?" + +The wife rushed forward, with an indignant glance-- + +"Let me see the woman who has stolen my husband's affections," she said. + +The cloaked gentleman interposed between her and Julia,-- + +"Softly, my good lady; this poor child must not be disgraced;" and, +turning to Julia, he whispered: "Hide your face with your 'kerchief, +and hurry from the room. There is a carriage at the door; it will bear +you home. Away now!" + +"The nephew" did not need a second invitation. Hands over her face, she +glided from the room. + +Bulgin now found himself in this position:--behind him, Watkins, +Burns and Potts; on his right, the cloaked gentleman; on his left, +his weeping wife, with her baby; in front, the burly form of his +father-in-law, who, clad in the easy costume of a country gentleman, +seemed too full of wrath to trust himself with words. + +"Oh! husband, how could you--" began the wife. + +"Is that your wife, sir?" thundered the father-in-law. "Answer me! Is +that your wife?" + +"It is," answered Bulgin, retreating a step. "Allow me to explain,--" + +"Is that your child, sir?" thundered the enraged old gentleman. +"Answer me! Is that your child?" + +"It--is--" and Bulgin retreated another step. + +"Then, what in the devil do you do in a place like this?--Hey?--Answer +me!--answer me!--" + +The father-in-law was too much enraged to say any more. So he +proceeded to settle the affair in his own way. He did not threaten +"divorce;"--did not even mention "separate maintenance." Nothing of the +kind. His course was altogether different. From beneath his capacious +buff waistcoat, he drew forth a cow-hide--a veritable cow-hide,--and +grasped it firmly. + +"Don't strike a man of my cloth," cried Bulgin. + +The only answer was a blow across the face, which left its livid +mark on the nose and cheeks. The good Doctor bawled and ran. The +father-in-law pursued, giving the cow-hide free play over the head and +shoulders of the Doctor. And the wife, with baby on her bosom, pursued +her father,--"Don't, father, don't!" Thus, the chase led round the +room; the howls of the Doctor, the blows of the whip, the falling of +chairs, and trampling of feet, forming, altogether, a striking chorus. +And to add the feather to the camel's back, the baby lifted up its +voice in the midst of the scene. Mr. Potts, Mr. Burns, and Mr. Watkins, +mounted on the sofa, so that they might not be in the way. + +As for the cloaked gentleman, leaning against the door, he +laughed,--yes, perhaps for the first time in thirty years. + +After making the circuit of the room three or four times, the scarlet +attire of the Rev. Dr. Bulgin hung in rags upon his back; and the old +man, red in the face, bathed in perspiration, and out of breath, sank +panting in a chair. + +He glanced at his daughter, who sat weeping in a corner, and then at +the Rev. Doctor, who, with the figure of the letter X welted across his +face, was rubbing his bruises in another corner. + +"Now, sir, if ever I catch you at anything of this kind, if I don't +lick you, my name ain't Jenkins!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +BANK-STOCK AT THE BAR. + + +The Court of Ten Millions was once more in session. The judge was once +more in his seat; his form enveloped in the coat with many capes, +his features shadowed by the hat with ample brim. But the beautiful +Esther was no longer on his left, nor the giant negro on his right. +The great statesman, with the somber brow and masquerade attire of +Roderick Borgia, no longer sat in the seat of the criminal. The scene +was altogether changed, although the candle on the table still shed +its beams around that room, whose black hangings were fringed with +gold, and whose gloomy ceiling represented a stormy sky, with the sun +struggling among its clouds. + +In the seat of the criminal sat Israel Yorke, the financier; his +diminutive form, clad in the scarlet Turkish jacket and blue trowsers, +contrasting somewhat oddly with his business-like face, and with the +general appearance of the scene. Israel was perplexed, for he shifted +uneasily in the chair and clasped its arms with his hands, while his +ferret-like eyes, now peering above, now below, but never through the +glasses of his spectacles, roved incessantly from side to side. There +sat the silent judge, under the gloomy canopy, his head bowed on his +breast. There was the black table, on which stood the solitary candle, +and over which were scattered, an inkstand, pen and paper, a book, +and sundry other volumes, looking very much like ledger and day-book. +On one side of the table, ranged against the wall, were six sturdy +fellows, attired in coarse garments, with crape over their faces; and +each man held a club in his brawny hand. And on the opposite side, also +ranged against the wall like statues, were six more sturdy fellows, +each one grasping a club with his strong right arm. They were dumb as +stone; only their hard breathing could be heard;--evidently men of +toil, who, on occasion, in a good cause, can strike a blow that will be +felt. + +Israel did not like this scene. A few moments since, kneeling beside +a beautiful girl, whose young loveliness was helpless and in his +power;--and now, a prisoner in this nightmare sort of place, with the +judge before him, and six sturdy fellows on either hand, waiting to do +the judge's bidding! The contrast was too violent. Israel thought so; +and--Israel felt anything but comfortable. + +"Do they mean to murder me in this dismal den?" he ejaculated +to himself. "Really, this way of doing business is exceedingly +unbusiness-like. What would they say in Wall street to a scene like +this?" + +Here the voice of the judge was heard through the dead stillness: + +"Israel Yorke, you are about to be put on trial for your crimes." + +"My crimes?" ejaculated the little man, bounding from his seat. +"Crimes!--What crimes have I committed?" + +There, outspoke the sense of injured innocence! To be sure--what crimes +had he committed? Had he ever stabbed a man, or put another man's name +to paper, or stolen a loaf of bread? No,--indignantly--No! Israel Yorke +was above all that. But how many robbers had he made, in the course of +his career, by his banking speculations? how many forgers? how many +murderers? how many honest men had he flung into the felon's cell? how +many pure women had he transformed into walkers of the public streets? +Ah! these are questions which Israel Yorke had rather not answer. + +"Yes, your crimes, committed through a long course of years; not with +the bravery and boldness of the highway robber, but with the cowardice +and low cunning of the sneak and swindler, who robs within the letter +of the law. Crimes committed, not upon the wealthy and the strong, +but upon the weak, the poor, the helpless--the widow, by her fireless +hearth--the orphan, by his father's grave. Oh, sir--we have just tried +a bold, bad man; a colossal criminal, whose very errors wear something +of the gloomy grandeur of the thunder-cloud. To put you on trial, after +him, is like leaving the presence of Satan, his forehead yet bearing +some traces of former splendor, to find ones-self confronted by Mammon, +that most abased of all the damned. Yes, sir,--an apology is due to +human nature, by this court, for stooping so low as to put _you_ on +your trial. And yet, even you derive some sort of consequence from the +vast field of your crimes,--the wide-spread and infernal results of +your life-long labors." + +Israel crouched in his chair, as though he expected the ceiling to fall +on him. "What d'ye mean by crimes?" he cried, grasping the arms of the +chair with both hands;--"and what right have you to try me?" + +The judge briefly but pointedly, and in a clear voice, which penetrated +every nook of the chamber, explained the peculiar features of the +court. Its power, backed by ten millions of silver dollars; its +jurisdiction, over crimes committed by those who seek the fruits +of labor, without its work, or who use the accident of wealth and +social position to oppress or degrade man--their brother; its stern +application to criminals, who, clad in wealth, had trampled all justice +under foot of their own terse motto, "MIGHT MAKES RIGHT." + +The explanation of the judge was brief, but impressive. Israel began +to feel conviction steal into his soul. "Might makes right!" Oh, how +like the last nail in the coffin, are those simple words, to a wealthy +scoundrel, who suddenly finds himself helpless in the grasp of a +mightier power! + +"Of--what--am--I--accused!" faltered Israel; thus recognising the +jurisdiction of the court. + +The judge answered him: + +"Of every crime that can be committed by the man, who makes it his sole +object in life to coin money out of the life and blood of the helpless +and the poor;--and who pursues this object steadily, by day and night, +for twenty years, with the untiring scent of the bloodhound on the +track of blood. Survey your life for the last twenty years. You have +appeared in various characters: as the trustee, as the executor, as the +speculator, the landlord, and the financier." + +He paused. Israel found himself listening with intense interest. + +"As the trustee, to whom dying men, with their last breath, intrusted +the heritage of the orphan, you have in every case, plundered the +orphan out of bread, out of education, and cast him ignorant and +helpless upon the world. How many orphans, given into your charge, with +their heritage, now rot in the grave, or in the felon's dungeon? Your +history is written in their blood. Do you,--" the voice of the judge +sank low,--"do you remember one orphan, whom, when a little child, her +father gave to your care, and whom, when grown to young womanhood, you +robbed of her heritage? Do you remember the day on which she died, the +tenant of a brothel?" + +Once more the judge was silent, but Israel had no word of reply. As for +the twelve listeners, they manifested their attention by an ominous +murmur. + +"As the landlord, it has not been your object to provide the poor with +comfortable homes, in exchange for their hard-earned rent-money, but to +pack as many human beings as you might, within the smallest compass of +brick and mortar,--to herd creatures made in the image of the living +God, in narrow rooms, dark courts, and pestilential alleys, as never +beasts were herded,--and thus you have sowed death, you have bred the +fever, the small-pox, the cholera,--but _you have made money_." + +Seated in the shadow of the velvet canopy, from which his voice +resounded, the judge again was silent. Israel, dropping his eyes, +imitated the silence of the judge. The murmur of the twelve listeners +was now accompanied by the sound of their clubs grating against the +floor. + +"It is as a banker, however, that your appetite for money, made out of +human blood, takes its intensest form of baseness. You started with a +Savings Fund, chartered by a well-paid legislature, who transformed +you into a president and board of directors, and divesting you of all +responsibility, as a man, authorized you to coin money out of the blind +confidence of the poor. Hard-working men, servant-girls, needle-women, +and others of the poor, who gain their pittance by labor that never +knows rest, until it sleeps in the grave, deposited that pittance in +your hands. A pittance, mark you, not so remarkable for its amount, as +for the fact, that it might, in some future hour, become bread to the +starving, warmth to the freezing, home to the homeless. And how did you +deal with the sacred trust? The earnings of the poor filled the coffers +of your Savings Fund, until they counted over a hundred thousand +dollars, and then, on the eve of a dreary winter, the Savings Fund +_failed_. That was all. _You_ did not _fail_; oh, no; but the Savings +Fund Corporation (into which a pliant legislature had transformed +you),--it _failed_. And while you pocketed the hundred thousand +dollars, you left the poor, who had trusted you, to starve, or beg, or +die, as pleased them." + +Israel shaded his eyes with his hands; he seemed buried in profound +thought. + +"This was the corner-stone of your fortunes. Then the Savings Fund +swindler grew into the banker. There were legislatures at Albany, +at Trenton and at Harrisburgh, eager to do your bidding,--hungry to +be bought. For every dollar of real value in your coffers, these +legislatures, by their charters, gave you the privilege to create at +least fifty paper dollars; in other words, to demand from the toiling +people of the land, some millions of dollars' worth of their labor, +without any equivalent. Your banks grew; there were sham presidents and +boards of directors, but you were the actual owner of them all; your +paper was scattered broadcast over the land. It was in the hands of +farmers and mechanics, of poor men and poor women, who had taken it in +pay for hard labor; and all at once your banks _failed_. What became of +the poor wretches who took your paper, is not known, but as for you, +your capital of a hundred thousand now swelled into two millions of +dollars. Let the poor howl! Had you not a press in your pay? Why should +not the press be purchased, when legislatures are to be bought as so +much merchandise?" + +The judge paused, and after a moment resumed,-- + +"There was a clamor for a while, but you laughed in your sleeve, bought +houses and lands,--dotted the city with pestilential dens, in which +you crowded the poor, like insects in a festering carcass,--and after +a time, raised your head once more as a banker. It was Harrisburgh, +Albany or Trenton this time,--one of the three, or all of them,--which +gave you the right to steal by law. You were now the owner (and behind +the scenes, the wire-puller), of three banks. Last night you thought +'the pear ripe.' Your notes were once more scattered broadcast over the +land. 'It is a good time to fail,' you thought, and so last night, +in the railroad cars (in order to give a color to your failure) you +pretended to be robbed of seventy-one thousand dollars." + +"Pretended to be robbed? I tell you I was robbed," cried Israel, +half-rising from his seat,--"robbed by an old convict and his young +accomplice." + +"And this morning, in due course, your three banks stopped payment. +All day long your victims lined the street, in front of your den of +plunder; and to-night found you in this place, seeking for a time, the +gratification of one lust in place of another. And now you are in the +hands of those who, having 'THE MIGHT,' will do with you as your crimes +deserve. 'Might makes right,' you know." + +"But where is the proof of all this? Where are my accusers?" Israel's +teeth chattered as he spoke. + +"Do you ask for accusers? What accusers are needed more powerful than +those voices which now,--and even your seared conscience must hear +them,--arise against you from the silence of the grave and the darkness +of the dungeon cell?" + +Israel tried hard to brace his nerves against the force of words like +these,--against the tone in which they were spoke,--but he shook from +head to foot, as though he had been seized with an ague-fit. + +"Think for a moment of Cornelius Berman, whom, by the grossest fraud, +you stripped of property and home, leaving himself and his only child +to sink heart-broken into the grave. And once you called yourself his +_friend_. Think, also, of your instrument, Buggles, whose persecution +of the artist, instigated by you, provoked a brave and honest youth +into murder, and consigned him to the felon's death! Do you ask for +accusers?" + +"Cornelius Berman!" faltered Israel, as if thinking aloud. + +"Do you ask for proofs? Behold them on the table before you. For years +your course has been tracked, your crimes counted, and the hour of +your punishment fixed. And the hour has come! On the table before you +are proofs of all your crimes, proofs that would weigh you down in a +convict's chains before any court of law. There are the secrets which +you thought safely locked up in your fire-proof, or buried in the +forgotten past,--secrets connected with the history of long years, +with your transactions in Harrisburgh, Trenton, Albany,--with all your +schemes from the very dawning of your infamous career." + +"Can Fetch, the villain, have betrayed me?" and Israel sank back +helplessly in the huge arm-chair;--"or, is this man only trying to +bully me into some confession or other?" + +"Israel Yorke! the devotion with which you, for long years, have +pursued your object,--to coin money out of human blood,--has only been +exceeded by the devotion of those who have followed you at every step +of the way, and for years, singled you out as the victim of avenging +justice." + +"But what do you intend to do with me?" cried Yorke, now shivering from +head to foot with terror. + +"In the first place, you will sign a paper, stating the truth, viz: +that you have ample means to redeem every dollar of your notes, and +that you will redeem them to-day, and henceforth at your office." + +"But I have not the funds," Israel began, but he was sternly +interrupted by the judge: "It is false! you have the funds. Independent +of the seventy-one thousand dollars, of which you say you were robbed, +you can, at any moment, command a million dollars. The proofs are on +the table before you. You _must_ redeem your notes." + +"And suppose I consent to sign such a paper?" hesitated the Financier. + +"Then you must sign another paper, the contents of which you will not +know until some future time," continued the judge, very quietly. + +"If I do it, may I be ----!" screamed Israel, bouncing from his seat. + +"It is well. You may go," calmly remarked the judge. "You are free; +these gentlemen will see you from this house, and attend you until bank +hours, when they will have the honor of presenting you to the holders +of your notes, who will, doubtless, gather in respectable numbers in +front of your banking house." + +Israel was free, but the twelve gentlemen, with clubs, gathered round +him, anxious to escort him safely on his way. + +"Come, my dear little Turk, we are ready," said one of the number, +with a very gruff voice, laying a hand,--it was such a hard hand,--on +the shoulders of the Financier, "We're a-dyin' to go with you; ain't +we, boys?" + +"Dyin' ain't the word,--we're starvin' to death to be alone with the +gentleman in blue trowsers," responded another. + +Israel bit his lips in silent rage. + +"Give me the papers," he said, in a sullen voice, and following a sign +from the finger of the judge, he advanced to the table, and beheld the +documents, the first of which he read. + +It was an important document, containing a brief statement of all +Israel's financial affairs,--evidently prepared by one who knew all +about him,--together with his solemn promise to redeem every one of his +notes, dollar for dollar. + +"Could Fetch have betrayed me?"--Israel hissed the words between his +set teeth, as he took up the pen.--"If I thought so, I'd cut his +throat." + +He signed, shook his gold spectacles, and uttered a deep sigh. + +"Now, the other paper," said the judge, "its contents are concealed by +another sheet, but there is room for your signature." + +Israel's little eyes shone wickedly as he gazed upon the sheet of +paper, which hid the mysterious document. He chewed the handle of his +pen between his teeth,--stood for a moment in great perplexity, and +then signed at the bottom of the sheet, the musical name of "ISRAEL +YORKE," and then fell back in the chair wiping the sweat from his +forehead with the sleeve of his Turkish jacket. + +"Anything more?" he gasped. + +"You are free," said the judge; "you may now change your dress, and +leave this house." + +Israel bounced from his seat. + +"Yet, hold a single moment. One of these gentlemen will accompany +you wherever you go; eat, drink, walk, sit, sleep with you, and be +introduced by you to all your financial friends, as your moneyed friend +from the country,----" + +"Why, you must be the devil incarnate," screamed Israel, and he beat +his clenched hand against the arm of the chair. + +"It will be the business of your attendant to accompany you to your +banking house, and see that you commence the redemption of your notes +at nine o'clock this morning. He will report all your movements to me. +Were you suffered to go alone, you might, in a fit of absence, glide +out of public view, and,--Havana is such a pleasant residence for +runaway bankers, especially in winter time." + +Israel gave utterance to an oath. The judge, without remarking this +pardonable ebullition of feeling, quietly addressed his twelve,-- + +"Which of you gentlemen will put yourself under this gentleman's +orders, as his attendant and shadow?" + +There was a pause, and one of the twelve advanced and laid his brawny +hand upon the table. His gaunt and muscular form was clad in a sleek +frock-coat of dark blue cloth, buttoned over his broad chest to his +throat, where it was relieved by a black cravat and high shirt collar. +His harsh features, closely shaven, and disfigured by a hideous scar on +his cheek,--features manifesting traces of hardship and age,--were in +singular contrast with his hair, which, sleek, and brown and glossy, +was parted neatly in the middle of his huge head, and descended to +either ear, in massy curls. His eyes, half hidden by the shaggy brows, +shone with an expression only to be described by the words, _ferocious +fun_. + +"I'll go with him, hoss," said a gruff voice; and, turning to Israel, +this singular individual regarded him with a steady look. Israel +returned his look, and the twain gazed upon each other with increasing +interest; and at length the individual approached Israel, and bent down +his head near to his face. + +"It's the fellow,--it's the fellow!" cried Israel, once more bouncing +from his seat. "He robbed me last night in the cars,--he----" + +"Be silent," cried the judge, who had regarded this scene attentively, +with his hand upraised to his brow.--"Gentlemen, conduct the prisoner +into the next room, and leave me alone with this person," he pointed to +the gaunt individual who stood alone by the table. + +The eleven disappeared through the curtains into the Golden Room with +Israel in their charge. + +"Now sir, who are you?" sternly inquired the judge. + +The individual gravely lifted his brown hair,--for it was a wig,--and +disclosed the outline of his huge head, with the black hair streaked +with gray, cut close to the scalp. Then turning down the high +shirt-collar, he disclosed the lower part of his face,--the wide mouth +and iron jaw, stamped with a savage resolution. + +"Don't you think I'm hansum?" he said, and the eyes twinkled under the +bushy brows, and the mouth distorted in a grin. + +"It's the same!" ejaculated the judge,--"How did you escape from the +room in which you were confined some three hours ago, and what do you +here?" + +"As yer so civil and pleasant spoken, I don't mind answerin' yer +questions. Arter the poleese had tied me, and left me in the dark upon +the bed, 'it looks black,' said I to myself, 'but don't give it up so +easy!' and a side door was opened, an' a hand cut my cords, and a voice +said 'get up and travel,--the way is clear,' and a bundle was put into +my hand, containin' these clothes, and this head o' hair.--I rigged +myself out in the dark, pitched my old clothes under the bed, an' then +went down the back stairway. I certainly did travel--" + +"And then?--" + +"And then," responded the individual, "I went and got shaved." + +"How came you here?" + +"Thinking, I was safer in a crowd, than anywhere else, I put for +down town, and I mixed in with the folks in front of Israel Yorke's +banking-house, and as they were hollering, why I hollered too. They +wanted to pitch into him,--so did I. Lord! didn't they holler! And a +gen'elman, seein' I was so airnest, told me about a private party, who +were about to foller up Isr'el, to this house. One o' their gang, he +said, was sick,--he axed me to jine 'em,--and swore me in as one of +your perleese,--and I jined 'em." + +"What is your name?" cried the judge, sternly. + +"In the place where I was last, they called me Ninety-One," answered +the old convict, arranging the high collar about his face,--"Years ago, +when I was an honest man, afore a man in a cloak, on a dark night, left +a baby with me and my wife, I was called,----" + +He paused, and passed his brawny hand over his eyes. The judge started +up from his seat.-- + +"Yes, yes, you were called,--" he exclaimed. + +"John Hoffman," replied the convict. + +The judge sank back in his chair, and his head dropped upon his breast. +It was sometime before he spoke,-- + +"I have heard of your story before," he said, in a tremulous voice. +"And now answer me one question," he continued in a firmer voice.--"Did +you commit the murder for which you were arrested?" + +"I can't expect you to believe an old cuss like me, but I certainly did +_not_," responded Ninety-One. + +"How came you in the room next to the one in which the murdered man was +found?" + +"I was took there by _a friend_, who offered to hide me from the folks +who were arter me, about Israel's valise." + +The judge seemed buried in thought. + +"And after the murder was discovered, and you were arrested and +pinioned, the same _friend_ appeared once more, and aided your escape?" + +"It was a friend," dryly responded Ninety-One,--"can't say what he +looked like, as the room was as black as your hat, (purviden you don't +wear a white hat)." + +"Did you commit the robbery on the railroad cars, last night?" + +"I'll be straight up and down with you, boss," said Ninety-One,--"I did +_not_,--and nobody didn't. The money was found on the track, after the +smashin' up o' the cars." + +"Do you imagine the _friend_, who hid you away in the house of old Mr. +Somers, intended to implicate you in the murder of his son?" + +"That's jist one o' th' p'ints I'd like to settle;" Ninety-One uttered +a low deep laugh, "if he did, I wouldn't give three tosses of a bad +copper for his windpipe." + +"As the case stands now, you labor under the double suspicion of +robbery and murder. Now mark me,--if you are innocent, I will defend +you. In the course of the day, I will have some future talk with you. +For the present, your disguise will avoid suspicion for a day or two. +You will go with Israel Yorke, and report all his movements to me. My +name and residence you will find on the card near the candlestick. One +question more--there was a boy with you,--" + +The voice of the judge again grew tremulous. + +Ninety-One, attired in the neat frock-coat, which displayed the brawny +width of his chest, drew himself to his full height, and gazed upon the +judge, long and earnestly, his eyes deep-sunken behind his bushy brows. + +"Do you think I'd a answered all your questions, hoss, if I hadn't +thought you knew somethin' o' my life and had the will and the power +to set me right afore the world? Well it's not for my own sake, I wish +to be set right, but for the sake of that boy. And afore I answer your +question, let me ax another: Did you ever happen to know a man named +Doctor Martin Fulmer?" + +Ninety-One could not see the expression of the judge's face, (for as +you are aware, that face was concealed under the shadow of the broad +brimmed hat,) but when the judge replied to his question, his voice was +marked by perceptible agitation: + +"I know Dr. Fulmer. In fact,--in fact,--I am often intrusted by him +with business. He will be in town to-morrow." + +"He is alive then," exclaimed Ninety-One. "Well hoss, when you meet +Dr. Martin Fulmer, jist tell him that that boy, who was with me, had a +parchment about his neck, on which these letters was writ, 'G. G. V. H. +C.' The very same," he continued, as if thinking aloud, "which I used +to send in a letter, to Dr. Martin Fulmer." + +"And this boy," almost shrieked the judge, rising, and starting one +step forward, on the platform, his corpse-like hand extended toward +Ninety-One,--"This boy with the parchment about his neck, where,--where +is he now?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"WHERE IS THE CHILD OF GULIAN VAN HUYDEN?" + + +"In the early part of the evenin' I left him in this very house, in +company with a gal named Frank,--" + +The judge interrupted him,--"Bring in the prisoner!" he shouted, and +the eleven shuffled into the room, escorting the little gentleman +in Turkish jacket and trowsers: "Draw near sir," he beckoned to +Ninety-One, "attend this man from this house,--" he pointed to +Yorke, "and do with him as I direct you,--thus--" he communicated +his directions to Ninety-One, in a rapid tone, broken by emotion, +and inaudible to the eleven, "and you gentlemen,--" to the +eleven,--"already have your instructions." + +He paused and then clutched Ninety-One by the hand, the convict +endeavoring, although vainly, to gain a glimpse of his features,--"In +this house with Frank did you say?" his voice was husky. + +"In this house, with a gal named Frank," answered Ninety-One. + +The judge stepped hastily from the platform, and his steps trembling as +he went, disappeared through a side door, his hands clasped over his +breast. + +Israel Yorke found himself alone with Ninety-One and the eleven +gentlemen with clubs. Ninety-One addressed him in a tone of cheerful +politeness: + +"Come, old cock, you and me's got to travel," he said, covering +Israel's right shoulder with his huge hand. + +Israel, biting his lips with illy suppressed rage, could not help +venting the bitterness of his soul, in a single word,-- + +"Devil," he hissed the word between his set teeth. + +"Well, I am a devil Isr'el," answered Ninety-One good humoredly, "an' +you're another. But you see there's two kind o' devils. I'll explain it +to you. Once a little sneak of a devil came up to the head devil, (this +happened in the lower regions,) and offered to take his arm, 'you're +one devil, and I'm another, and so we're ekle,' says the little sneak +of a devil. Now the head devil did not like this. He says, says he, to +the little sneak, 'There's two kind o' devils, young gen'leman. There's +me, for instance,--when I fell from Heaven. I showed _pluck_ anyhow, +and fell like a devil, and went about makin' _stump speeches_ in the +lower regions. But you,--you,--what was you doing meanwhile? Sneakin' +out o' Heaven with your carpet-bag full of gold bricks, which you had +stolen from the gold pavement.' Now Isr'el the name of the first devil +was Beelzebub, and the little sneak of a devil was called, Mammon. Do +you take?" + +The eleven gentlemen with clubs, received this elegant apologue, with +evident pleasure, manifesting their delight by a unanimous burst of +laughter. + +Israel said nothing, but evidently was absorbed in a multitude of +reflections, not altogether of the most pleasant character. + +In a short time, once more arrayed in his every-day attire he left the +Temple, accompanied by Ninety-One, and followed by the eleven. + +Hastening from the "Court of Ten Millions," his hands clasped tightly +over his breast, and his steps trembling as he went, THE JUDGE +was determined, at all hazards, to obtain an immediate interview +with Frank. Hurrying along a dark passage, and then down the dark +stairway,--for the lights had been extinguished, and the Temple was +dark and silent as the tomb,--the judge muttered frequently the words +"in this house,--in this house!" and then exclaimed,--"O, he cannot, +cannot escape me! The hand of fate has led him hither." + +He opened a door, and entered the magnificent apartment, in which, in +the early part of the evening, Tarleton feasted with his friends, while +at the head of the table, sat the corse of Evelyn Somers. Now all was +dark and silent there. + +The judge lost no time, but retraced his steps and hurried up-stairs. +He presently entered the Central Chamber, where a few candles burned to +their sockets, shed their pale and uncertain light, over the pictures +and the mirrors, the tables coveted with flowers, and the lofty ceiling +supported by marble pillars. When last we saw the Central Chamber, +it was all life and motion; warm pulses were throbbing, bright eyes +flashing there. Then gay and varied costumes glittered in the light, +and each voluptuous recess, echoed to the sighs of passion. Now the +scene presented that saddest of all spectacles,--the decaying lights +of a festival, emitting their last dim gleam, upon the faded splendors +of the forsaken festal hall. Popes, Caliphs, Cardinals, Quakeresses, +Knights, Nymphs and Houris, all were gone. The place was silent as the +grave, and much more sad. + +A single form walked slowly up and down the silent hall,--a woman, +whose noble person was attired in black velvet, her dark hair falling +to her shoulders, and a white cross clustering on her brow. Her hands +dropped listlessly by her side, and her dark eyes dilating in their +sockets, were fixed in a vacant stare. + +"Frank, I must speak with you at once, and on a subject of life and +death," cried the judge, suddenly confronting her. Even as he spoke, +he was startled at the unnatural pallor of her face. "To-night a +young man, in whose history I am fearfully interested, entered this +house, and saw you in your chamber. He is now here," he continued +impetuously,--"I must see him." + +"You mean the lost son of Gulian Van Huyden?" she calmly said, pausing +in her walk, and folding her arms over her breast. + +"He _was_ here then," cried the judge, evidently wild with agitation, +"nay he is here now." + +"He was here half an hour ago," returned Frank, who, pre-occupied +with her own thoughts, did not seem to notice the agitation of the +Judge,--"half an hour ago he left the house." + +"Left the house? Whither has he gone?" + +"I know not." + +"Child, child, you mock me," in his agitation he seized her wrist,--"I +must see this boy, it is upon a matter of life and death. For God's +sake do not trifle with me." + +"I tell you, that he left the house half an hour ago," returned Frank, +"and as I hope to have peace in the hour of my death, I do not know +whither he has gone." + +The solemnity of her tone impressed the judge. + +"But will he return?" + +"He will never return,--never!" she answered, and it seemed to the +judge, as though there was a hidden meaning in her words. + +"O, do not drive me to despair. I must see this youth, before +to-morrow,--yes, to-day,--this hour!" + +"You will never see him in this house again." + +"Did he leave this house alone, or was he accompanied,--and by whom?" + +A strange smile passed over her face as she replied in a whisper-- + +"He was accompanied by Mary Berman, who arisen from the grave, came +here to claim her husband." + +The Judge uttered a wild ejaculation, and sank half fainting in a +chair,--his hat fell from his brow, and his face was revealed. + +That face, remarkable in every outline, was bathed in cold moisture, +and distorted by contending emotions. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +BEVERLY AND JOANNA. + + +In the Temple, near the hour of dawn, on the morning of the 24th of +December, 1844. + +"Fallen!" + +Yes, fallen! nevermore to press the kiss of a pure mother upon the +lips of her innocent child. Fallen! never more to meet her husband's +gaze, with the look of a chaste and faithful wife. Fallen!--from +wifely purity, from all that makes the past holy, or the future +hopeful--fallen, from all that makes life worth the having,--fallen! +and forever! + +"Fallen!" + +Oh, how this word, trembling from her lips--wrung from her +heart--echoed through the stillness of the dimly-lighted chamber. + +She was seated on the sofa, her noble form clad in the white silken +robe--her hands clasped--her golden hair unbound--her neck and +shoulders bare: and the same light hanging from the ceiling, which +disclosed the details of that luxurious chamber--carpet, chairs, sofa, +mirror, and the snow-white couch in a distant recess--fell upon her +beautiful countenance, and revealed the remorse that was written there. +There was a wild, startled look in her blue eyes; her lips were apart; +her cheek was now, pale as death, and then, flushed with the scarlet +hues of unavailing shame. + +He was reclining at her feet; his arm resting on the sofa; his face +upturned--his eyes gazing into hers. Clad in the costume of the white +monk--a loose robe of white cloth, with wide sleeves, edged with +red--Beverly Barron toyed with his flaxen curls, as he looked into her +face, and remarked her with a look of mingled meaning. There was base +appetite, gratified vanity, but no remorse in his look. + +And the light fell on his florid face, with its sensual mouth, receding +chin, wide nostrils, and bullet-shaped forehead, encircled by ringlets +of flaxen hair--a face altogether _animal_, with scarcely a single ray +of a higher nature, to light up or refine its grossness. + +"Fallen!" cried Joanna; and clasped her hands, and shuddered, as if +with cold. + +"Never mind, dear," said Beverly, and he bent forward and kissed her +hands--"I will love you always!" + +"Oh, my God!"--and in that ejaculation, all the agony of her soul found +utterance,--"Oh, my God! my child!" + +Beverly knelt at her feet, and kissed her clenched hands, and +endeavored to soothe her with professions of undying love; but she tore +her hands from his grasp-- + +"My husband! How can I ever look into his face again!" + +Had you seen that noble form, swelling in every fiber; had you seen the +silken robe, heaved upward by the agony which filled her bosom; had +you seen the look, so wild--remorseful--almost mad--which stamped her +face,--you would have felt the emphasis with which she uttered these +terrible words, "My husband! How can I ever look into his face again!" + +"Your husband," whispered Beverly, with something of the devil in his +eyes, "your husband, even now, is on his way to Boston, where the +chosen mistress of his heart awaits him. His brother is at the point +of death, is he? ha, ha, Joanna! 'Twas a good excuse, but, like all +excuses, rather lame--when found out. The poor, good, dear Joanna, +sits at home, pining at her husband's absence, while he, the faithful +Eugene, consoles himself in the arms of his Boston love!" + +"It cannot be! it cannot be!" cried Joanna, beating the carpet with her +foot, and pressing her clenched hands against her heaving breast. + +"Do you see this, darling?" and, throwing the robe of the white monk +aside, he disclosed his "flashy" scarf, white vest and gold chain. "Do +you see this, pet?" and from beneath his white vest he drew forth a +package of letters.--"_Her_ letters to her dear Eugene! How she loves +him--how she pities him, because he is not married to a _sympathetic_ +soul,--how she counts the hours that must elapse before he comes! It +is all written here, darling!" + +Joanna took the package and passed it absently from one hand to the +other. "Yes, yes, I read them yesterday! It is true, beyond hope of +doubt. He loves her!--he loves her!" + +"And you,"--Beverly arose and seated himself by her side, winding +his arm about her waist. "And you, like a brave, noble woman, whose +dearest affections have been trampled upon,"--he wound his left +hand amid the rich masses of her golden hair,--"you, like a brave, +proud heart, whose very May of life has been blighted by a husband's +treachery,--have _avenged_ yourself upon him!" + +He pressed his kiss upon her lips. But the warmth of passion had passed +away. Her lips were cold. She shrunk from his embrace. The vail had +fallen from her eyes; the delusion, composed of a mad passion and a mad +desire for revenge, had left her, and she knew herself to be no longer +the stainless wife and holy mother--but that thing for which on earth +there is no forgiveness--an adulteress! + +"No, Beverly, no. It will not avail. His fault was no excuse for my +crime. For his fault affects me only--wrongs me alone--but mine--," +there was a choking sensation in her throat--she buried her face in her +hands--"Oh God! oh God! my child!" + +Beverly took a bottle of champagne which stood upon the table, drew the +cork, and filled two brimming glasses. + +"You are nervous, my darling," he said, "take this. Let us pledge each +other--for the past, forgetfulness--for the future, hope and love." + +He stood erect beneath the lamp--his tall form, clad in the robe of +the white monk, relieved by the very gloom of the luxurious chamber; +he pressed the glass to his lips, and over its rim surveyed the +white couch, which looked dim and shadowy in its distant recess,--he +murmured, "Eugene, your magnificent wife is mine!" + +And then drained the glass without moving it from his lips. + +She took the glass and drank; but the same wine which an hour ago had +fired her blood, and completed the delusion of her senses, now only +added to her remorse and shame. + +"My father,--so proud of his name, so proud of the honor of his son, +the purity of his daughter, how shall I ever meet his eye? how can I +ever look him in the face again?" + +And the image of that stern old man, with wrinkled visage and +snow-white hair, rose vividly before her. Her father was an aristocrat +of the old school--proud, not of his money, but of his blood. The royal +blood of Orange flowed in his veins. Loving his only daughter better +than his own soul, he would have put her to death with his own hand, +sooner than she should incur even the suspicion of dishonor. + +"Pshaw, Joanna! He need never know anything about the adventures +of this night. You have been slighted, and you have taken your +revenge;--that is all. No one need know anything about it. You will +mingle in society as usual; these things, my darling, are almost things +of course in the fashionable world, among the 'upper ten.' Among the +beautiful dames whom you see at the opera, on a 'grand night,' how many +do you suppose would waste one thought of regret upon an adventure like +this?" + +Joanna buried her burning temples in her hands. All of her life rushed +before her. Her childhood--the days of her pure maidenhood--the hour +of her marriage, when she gave herself to the husband who idolized +her,--the hour of her travail, when she gave birth to her child,--all +rushed upon her, with the voices, tones, faces of other days, +commingled in one brief but vivid panorama. + +"You see, my pet, you know but little of the world," continued +Beverly. "In the very dawn of your beauty, ignorant of the world, and +of the value of your own loveliness, you wedded Eugene. Life was a +rose-colored dream to you; you thought of him only as the ideal of your +existence. You thought that he regarded you in the same light. You +did not dream that he would ever regard you simply as the handsomest +piece of furniture about his splendid establishment,--a splendid +fixture, destined to bear him children who would perpetuate the name +of Livingston,--while his roving affections wandered about the world, +constantly seeking new objects of passionate regard. You never dreamt +of this, did you, darling?" + +Joanna uttered a groan. Pressing her hands to her throbbing temples, +she felt her bosom swell, but could not frame a word. + +"Now, my dear, you are a woman; you know something of the world. Like +hundreds of others of your wealth and station, you can, under the vail +of decorum, select the object of a passionate attachment, and indulge +your will at pleasure. A bright future, rich in love and in all that +makes life dear, is before you----" + +And Beverly drew her to him, putting one arm about her neck, while his +left hand girdled her bosom. As he kissed her, her golden hair floated +over his face and shoulders. + +At this moment the door opened without a sound, and a man wrapped in a +cloak, with a cap over his brow, advanced with a noiseless step toward +the sofa. + +It was not until his shadow interposed between them and the light, that +they beheld him. As Joanna raised her head, struggling to free herself +from the embrace of her seducer, she beheld the intruder, who had +lifted his cap from his brow. + +"O God, Eugene!" she shrieked, and fell back upon the sofa, not +fainting, but utterly paralyzed, her limbs as cold as marble, her blood +turned to ice in her veins. + +It was Eugene Livingston. Gently folding his arms, cap in hand, he +surveyed his wife. His face was turned from the light,--its ghastly +paleness could not be seen. His cloak hid the heavings of his breast. +But the light which fired his eyes, met the eyes of his wife, and +burned into her soul. + +He did not speak to her. + +Turning from her, he surveyed Beverly Barron, who had started to his +feet, and who now stood as if suddenly frozen, with something of the +look and attitude of a man who is condemned to watch a lighted candle, +as it burns away in the center of a barrel of gunpowder. + +Not a word was spoken. + +Joanna crouching on the sofa, her chin resting on her clasped +hands,--Beverly on the floor, his hands outspread, and his face dumb +with terror,--Eugene standing between them, folding his cloak upon his +breast, as he silently turned his gaze, first to his wife, and then to +her seducer. + +At length Eugene spoke,-- + +"Come, Joanna," he said, "here is your father. He will take you home." + +She looked up and beheld the straight, military form, the stern visage +and snow-white hair of her father. One look only, and she sank lifeless +at his feet. She may have meant to have knelt before him, but as she +rose from the sofa, or rather, glided from it, she fell like a corpse +at his feet. The old general's nether lip worked convulsively, but he +did not speak. + +"General, take her to my home, and at once," whispered Eugene. +"There must be no scandal, no noise, and----" he paused as if +suffocating,--"no _harshness_, mark you." + +The general was a stalwart man, although his hair was white as snow,--a +man whose well-knit limbs, erect bearing, and sinewy hands, indicated +physical vigor undimmed by age, but he trembled like a withered leaf as +he raised his daughter from the floor. + +"I will do as you direct, Eugene," he said, in a husky voice. + +"You will find her cloak in the next room," said Eugene, "and the +carriage is at the door." + +The general girded his insensible daughter in his arms, and bore her +from the room. As he crossed the threshold, he groaned like a dying man. + +Eugene and Beverly were alone. Beverly at a rapid glance surveyed the +room. Eugene stood between him and the door; he turned to the windows, +which were covered with thick curtains. Those windows were three +stories high. There was no hope of escape by the windows. + +"Will you take a chair, my friend," said Eugene. + +Beverly sank into a chair, near the table; as he seated himself, he +felt his knees bend beneath him, and his heart leap to his throat. + +Eugene took a chair opposite, and shading his eyes with his hand, +surveyed the seducer. There was silence for a few moments, a silence +during which both these men endured the agonies of the damned. + +"You have a daughter, I believe," said Eugene, in a voice that was +broken by a tremor. "You may wish to send some word to her. Here is a +pencil and tablets. Let me ask you to be brief." + +He flung the pencil and tablets upon the table. Beverly recoiled as +though a serpent had stung him. + +"Eugene," he faltered, for the first time finding words, "you--you do +not mean to murder me?" + +And his florid face grew ashy with abject terror. + +Eugene did not reply, but knocked twice upon the marble table with his +clenched hand. Scarcely had the echo of the sound died away, when the +door was once more opened, and two persons advanced to the table. + +The first was a tall, muscular man, with a phlegmatic face, light hair, +and huge red whiskers. His blue frock-coat was buttoned to the throat, +and he carried an oblong box in his hands. + +"Joanna's brother!" ejaculated Beverly. + +The second person was a dapper little gentleman, with small eyes, a +hooked nose, and an enormous black moustache. He was dressed in black, +with a gold chain on his breast, and a diamond pin in his faultless +shirt bosom. + +"Major Barton!" ejaculated Beverly, bounding from his seat, for in +Major Barton he recognized an old and intimate acquaintance. + +"Robert," said Eugene, turning to Joanna's brother, "what have you +there?" + +"The dueling pistols," quietly responded Robert. + +"Have you and this gentleman's friend arranged the _preliminaries_?" + +"We have," interrupted the dapper Major; "distance, ten paces,--place, +Weehawk, opposite the city,--time, right off." + +"This without consulting me!" cried Beverly, who at the mention of a +duel, felt a hope lighten up in his heart, for coward as he was, he was +also a capital shot. + +"Gentlemen, I beg to say,----" he drew his White Monk's robe over his +heart, and assumed a grand air,--"gentlemen,----" + +The dapper little major glided to his side,-- + +"Bev., my boy, better be quiet. Eugene waited on me an hour ago and +explained all the circumstances,--desired me to act as your friend. As +I'd rather see you have a chance for your life in a duel, than to see +you killed in such a house as this, like a dog, I consented. Bev., my +boy, better be quiet." + +"If you don't wish to fight, say so," and the phlegmatic Robert stepped +forward, eyeing Beverly with a look of settled ferocity, that was not +altogether pleasant to see,--"if you decline the duel, just say so in +the presence of your friend, Major Barton. Just say no." + +And Robert eyed Beverly from head to foot, as though it would afford +him much pleasure to pitch him from the third story window. + +"I will fight," said Beverly, pale and red by turns. + +"Then I'll get your hat, and coat, and cloak," said the obliging +major,--"they're in the next room. We must leave the house quietly, and +there's a boat waiting for us, at the foot of the street, or the North +River. We can cross to the Jersey shore, before morning breaks. It will +be a nice little affair all among ourselves. By-the-bye, how about a +surgeon?" + +"Yes, a surgeon!" echoed Robert, turning to Eugene, who, seated by the +table, rested his forehead against his hand. + +"We will not need a surgeon," said Eugene, raising his face, from which +all color of life had fled. "Because our fight is to the death." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +MARY BERMAN--CARL RAPHAEL. + + +They sat near the marriage altar, their hands clasped, and their gaze +fixed upon each other's face. The countenance of Nameless was radiant +with a deep joy. One hand resting upon the neck of Mary, the other +clasping her hand, his soul was in his eyes, as he looked into her +face. Her hair, brown and wavy, streamed over the hand, which rested on +her neck. Despite her faded attire,--the gown of coarse calico, and the +mantilla of black velvet,--Mary was very beautiful; as beautiful as her +name. All the life which swelled her young bosom, was manifested in the +bloom of her cheeks, the clear, joyous look of her eyes. Her beauty was +the purity of a stainless soul, embodied in a person, rich with every +tint and outline of warm, womanly loveliness. + +"Well might my whole being thrill, as you passed by me to-night! Your +form was vailed, your face hid, but my soul knew that you were near!" + +"O, Carl, in all our lives, we will never know a moment of joy so deep +as this!"--and there was something of a holy sadness in Mary's gaze +as she spoke,--"After years of sorrow and trial, that might break the +stoutest hearts, we have met again, like two persons who have risen +from the grave. The world is so dark, Carl,--so crowded with the +callous and the base,--that I fear for our future. O, would it not be +beautiful, yes holy, to die now, in each other's arms, at the moment +when our hearts are filled with the deepest joy they can ever know?" + +The words of the pure girl, uttered in a voice imbued with a melancholy +enthusiasm, cast a shadow over the face of Nameless, and brought a sad +intense light to his eyes. + +"Yes, Mary, it is even so," he replied,--"it is a harsh and bitter +world, in which the base and callous-hearted, prey upon those who have +souls. When I think of my own history, and of yours, it does not seem +reality, to me, but the images of the past move before me, like the +half defined shapes of a troubled dream." + +And he bent his forehead,--fevered and throbbing with thought, upon her +bosom, and listened to the beatings of that heart, which had been true +to him, in every phase of his dark life. She pressed her lips silently +upon his brow. + +"But the future is bright before us, Mary," he whispered, raising +his face, once more radiant with hope,--"the cottage by the river +shore, shall be ours again! O, don't you remember it, Mary, as it +leans against the cliff, with the river stretching before it, and the +palisades rising far away, into the western sky? We will live there, +Mary, and forget the world." Alas! he knew not of the poison in his +veins. "Your father, too,--" + +"My father!" she echoed, starting from her chair, as the memory of that +broken man with the idiot face,--never for a moment forgotten,--came +vividly before her, "My father! come Carl, let us go to him!" + +She wound the mantilla about her form, and Carl, otherwise Nameless, +also rose from his chair, when a footstep was heard, and the door was +abruptly opened. + +"Leave this house, at once, as you value your life," cried an agitated +voice,--"You know my father,--know that he will shrink from no crime, +when his darker nature is aroused,--you have foiled the purpose which +was more than life to him. There is danger for you in this house! away!" + +"Frank!" was all that Nameless could ejaculate, as he saw her stand +before him, lividly pale, her hair unbound, and the golden cross rising +and falling upon her heaving bosom. There was a light in her eyes, +which he had never seen before. + +"No words," she continued in broken and rapid tones,--"you must away +at once. You are not safe from poison,"--a bitter, mocking smile,--"or +steel, or any treachery, as long as you linger in this house. But this +is no time for masquerade attire,--in the next room you will find the +apparel which you wore, when first you entered this house, together +with a cloak, which will protect you from the cold. You have no time +to lose,--give me that bauble," and she tore the chain from his neck +and the golden cross from his breast,--"away,--you have not a moment to +lose." She pointed to the door. + +"Frank!" again ejaculated Nameless, and something like remorse smote +his heart, as he gazed upon her countenance, so sadly changed. + +"Will you drive me mad? Go!" again she pointed to the door. + +Nameless disappeared. + +"And you,--" she took the hands of Mary within her own, and raised +them to her breast, and gazed long and earnestly into that virgin +face,--"You, O, I hate you!" she said her eyes flashing fire, and +yet the next moment, she kissed Mary on the cheeks and forehead, and +pressed her to her bosom with a frenzied embrace. "You are worthy of +him," she said slowly, in a low voice, again perusing every line of +that countenance,--"I know you, although an hour ago, I did not know +that you lived;" once more her tones were rapid and broken,--"know +your history, know who it was that lured you to this place, and know +the desolate condition of your father. Your husband has money, but +it will not be safe for him to attempt to use it for some days. Take +this,--conceal it in your bosom,--nay, I will take no denial. Take it +child! That money and purse are not the wages of pollution,--they were +both mine, in the days when I was pure and happy." + +Scarcely knowing what to do, Mary, whom the wild manner of Frank, +struck at once with pity and awe, took the purse, and hid it in her +bosom. + +"I now remember you," said Mary, her eyes filling with tears, as she +gazed into the troubled face of Frank,--"Father painted your picture, +and afterward you sought us out in our garret, and left your purse upon +the table, with a note stating that it contained the balance due on +your portrait. O, it was kind, it was noble,--" + +"Do not speak of it, child," Frank said in rapid and abrupt +tones,--"Had I not been convinced that you and your father were dead, I +would have visited you often. That is, if I could have concealed from +you what I was, and the way of life which was mine." + +Her lip quivered, and she hid her eyes with her hand. + +"But come, your husband is here," she said, as Nameless re-appeared, +his form once more clad in the faded frock-coat, but with a cloak +drooping from his shoulders. "You must away, and at once." + +"Frank,"--and Nameless, trembling with agitation, approached her, "we +will meet again in happier hours." + +O, the strange look of her eyes, the bitter mocking curl of her lip! + +"We will never meet again," she answered, in a voice that sunk into his +heart. Then burying the chain and golden cross in her bosom, she placed +a letter in his hand,--"Swear to me that you will not read this, until +three hours at least are passed?" + +"I promise,--" + +"Nay, you must swear it,--" + +"I swear, in the sight of Heaven!" + +"Now depart, and,--" she turned her face away from their gaze, and +pointed to the door. + +As she turned away, Mary approached her, and put her arms about her +neck, and her eyes brim full of tears all the while,--kissed her on the +forehead and the lips, saying at the same time, and from the depths of +her heart, "May God in Heaven bless you!" + +Frank took Mary's arms from her neck, and joined her hand in that of +Nameless, and then pushed them gently to the door,--"Go, and at once," +she whispered. + +And they crossed the threshold, Mary looking back over her shoulder, +until she disappeared with Nameless, in the shadows of the passage. + +Frank stood with one hand extended to the door, and the other +supporting her averted face,--she heard their footsteps in the passage, +on the stairway, and in the hall beneath. Then came the sound of the +opening and closing of the door, which led into the street. + +And then the agony, the despair, the thousand emotions which racked +her soul, found utterance in the simple, and yet awfully touching +ejaculation,--"O, my God!--" and she flung herself on her knees, before +the Marriage Altar, resting her clenched hands upon the Holy Bible, +which was concealed by her bowed head, and unbound hair. + +"O, my God! He is gone, and--forever!" + +Yes, Frank, woman so beautiful and so utterly lost, gone and +forever--gone, with his young wife by his side, and Poison in his +veins. + + + + +PART FIFTH. + +THE DAWN, SUNRISE AND DAY. + +DECEMBER 24, 1844. + + +CHAPTER I. + +"THE OTHER CHILD." + + +Baffled schemer! + +In the dim hour which comes before the break of day, Colonel Tarleton +was hurrying rapidly along the silent and deserted street. + +Broadway, a few hours since, all light, and life, and motion, was +now lonely as a desert. Gathering his cloak over his white coat, and +drawing his cap lower upon his brows, Tarleton hurried along with a +rapid and impetuous step, now and then suffering the thoughts which +filled him, to find vent in broken ejaculations. + +"Baffled schemer!" he exclaimed aloud, and then his thoughts arranged +themselves into words:--"Why do those words ring in my ears? They do +not apply to me; let me but live twenty-four hours, and all the schemes +which I have worked and woven for twenty-one long years, will find +their end in a grand, a final triumph. Baffled schemer! No,--not yet, +nor never! This boy who was to marry Frank, will _fade away_ in a few +hours, and make no sign; and now for the other child. I must hasten to +the house of old Somers,--his 'private secretary' must be mine before +daybreak. The hour is unusual, the son lies dead in one room,--the +father in the other; but I must enter the house at all hazards, +for,--for,--the _only remaining child_ of Gulian Van Huyden, must be in +my power before daybreak." + +And he hurried along toward the head of Broadway, through the silent +city. Even in the gloom, the agitation which possessed him, was plainly +discernible. The hand which held the cloak upon his breast was tightly +clenched, and, as he passed through the light of a lamp, you might +note his compressed lip, his colorless cheek, and eyes burning with +intense thought. His whole life swept before him like a panorama. +The day when the wife and mother lay dead in her palace home, while +Gulian, his brother, clutched him with a death-grip as he plunged into +the river,--the years which he had gayly passed in Paris, and the +horrible years which he had endured in the felon's cell,--the happy +childhood, and the irrevocable shame of his daughter, sold by her own +mother into the arms of lust and gold,--his duel with young Somers, +whom he had first murdered, and then smuggled his corpse into his +father's home,--the scenes which he had this night witnessed in the +Temple, beginning with his interview with Ninety-One, and ending in the +marriage of Frank and Nameless, and the apparition of Mary Berman,--all +flitted before him like the phantoms of a spectral panorama. + +"And the next twenty-four hours will decide all! Courage, brain, you +have never yet despaired,--" he struck his clenched hand against his +forehead,--"do not fail me now!" + +Turning from Broadway, as the night grew darker, he entered the street +in which the house of Evelyn Somers, Sr., was situated. He was rapidly +approaching that house,--cogitating what manner of excuse he should +make to the servants for his call at such an unusual hour,--when he +was startled by the sound of footsteps. He paused, where a street lamp +flung its light over the pavement. Shading his eyes, he beheld two +figures approaching through the gloom. He glided from the light, and +stationed himself against the wall, so that he could see the figures +as they passed, himself unseen. The steps drew near and nearer, and +presently from the gloom the figures passed into the light. A man, +wrapped in a cloak, with a broad _sombrero_ drooping over his face, +supported on his arm the form of a youth, who, clad in a closely +buttoned frock-coat, trembled from weakness, or from the winter's cold. +The face of the man was in shadow, but the light shone fully on the +face of the youth as he passed by. + +Tarleton, with great difficulty, suppressed an ejaculation and an oath. + +For in that boy who leaned tremblingly upon the arm of the cloaked man, +he recognized the _Private Secretary_ of the merchant prince! + +"Courage, my poor boy,"--Tarleton heard the cloaked man utter these +words, as he passed by,--"it was a happy impulse which led me to leave +my carriage, and walk along this street. I arrived just in time to save +you; it is but a step to my carriage, and once in my carriage you will +tell me all." + +"O, sir, you will protect me,"--the voice of the youth was tremulous +and broken,--"you will protect me from this man----" + +And with these words they passed from the light into the gloom again. + +Tarleton stood for a moment, as though nailed to the wall against which +he leaned. He could not believe the evidence of his senses. That the +boy, Gulian Van Huyden, the private secretary had left the mansion of +the merchant prince, at this strange hour, and was now in the care of +a man whom he, Tarleton, did not know; this fact was plain enough, but +Tarleton could not believe it. He stood as though nailed to the wall, +while the footsteps of the retreating figures resounded through the +stillness. At length, with a violent effort, he recovered his presence +of mind. + +"I will follow them and reclaim _my child_!" he ejaculated, and +gathering his cloak across the lower part of his face, hurried once +more toward Broadway. + +But as he discovered the distance between himself and the figures +of the cloaked man and the youth, his purpose failed him, he knew +not why,--he dared not address the man, much less seize the boy, +Gulian,--but he still hung upon their back, watching their every +movement, himself unobserved. + +Meanwhile, a thousand vague suspicions and fears flitted through his +mind. + +At the head of Broadway, in the light of a lamp, stood a carriage, +with a coachman in dark livery on the box. The horses, black as jet, +stood, beating the pavement with their hoofs, and champing their bits +impatiently. + +The unknown paused beside this carriage, still supporting the boy, +Gulian, on his arm. + +"Felix," he said, in a low voice, addressing the coachman, who started +up at the sound of his voice, "drive at once, and with all speed, to +_the house yonder_,"--he pointed to the north. + +"Yes, my lord," was the answer of the coachman. + +"And you, poor boy," continued the unknown, thus addressed as "my +lord," turning to young Gulian,--"enter, and be safe hereafter from all +fear of persecution." He opened the carriage door, and Gulian entered, +followed by the unknown. + +And the next moment the sound of the wheels was heard, and the carriage +passing Union Square and rolling away toward the north. + +Tarleton, who had, unobserved, beheld this scene, started from the +shadows and approached the lamp. He clenched his teeth in helpless rage. + +"I saw his face for an instant, ere he entered the carriage, and as +his cloak fell aside, I noticed the golden cross on his breast; and +I neither like his cadaverous face, nor the golden cross. Why,--" +he stamped angrily upon the pavement,--"why do I hate and fear this +man whom I have never seen before?--'my lord!'--the cross on his +breast,--perchance a dignitary of the Catholic Church! Ah! he will +wring the secret from this weak and superstitious boy. All, all is +lost!" + +He was roused from this fit of despair and rage by the sound of +carriage wheels. It was a hackney coach, returning homeward, the horses +weary, and the driver lolling sleepily on the box. + +Tarleton darted forward and stopped the horses. + +"Do you want to earn five dollars for an hour's ride?" he said, "if +so, strike up Broadway, and follow a dark carriage drawn by two black +horses," and he mounted the box, and took his seat beside the coachman. + +The latter gentleman waking up from his half slumber, and very wroth at +the manner in which his horses had been stopped, and his box invaded, +forthwith consigned Tarleton to a place which it is not needful to +name, adding significantly,-- + +"An' if yer don't git down, I'll mash yer head,--if I don't,--" etc., +etc. + +"Pshaw! don't you know me?" cried Tarleton, lifting his cap,--"follow +the carriage yonder, and I'll make it ten dollars for half an hour's +ride." + +"Why, it _is_ the colonel!" responded the mollified hackman.--"My team +is blowed, colonel, but you're a brick, and here goes! Up Broadway did +you say?--let her rip!" + +He applied the whip to his wearied horses, and away they dashed, +passing Union Square, and entering upper Broadway. + +"That the carriage, colonel?" asked the driver, as they heard the sound +of wheels in front of them, "that concern as looks blacker than a stack +of black cats?" + +"It is. Follow it. Do not let the coachman know that we are in pursuit. +Follow it carefully, and at a proper distance." + +And the hackney coach followed the carriage of the unknown, until they +passed from the shadows of the houses into the open country. Some four +miles at least from the city hall, the carriage turned from one of the +avenues, into a narrow lane, leading among the rocks, over a hill and +down toward the North River. + +The colonel jumped from the box. + +"Wait for me here,--I'll not be long. Drive a little piece up the +avenue, so that you will not be noticed, in case this carriage should +return. Wait for me, I say,--for every hour I will give you ten +dollars." + +With these words he hurried up the hill, in pursuit of the retreating +carriage. The ground was frosted and broken,--huge rocks blocked up +the path on either hand, and on the hill-top stood a clump of leafless +trees. Pausing beneath these trees, the colonel endeavored to discern +the carriage through the darkness, but in vain. But he heard the sound +of the wheels as they rolled over the hard ground in the valley below. + +"It cannot go far. This lane terminates at the river, only two or three +hundred yards away. Ah! I remember,--half-way between the hill and the +river there is an old mansion which I noticed last summer, and which +has not been occupied for years." + +The sound of the wheels suddenly ceased. The colonel drew the cord of +his cloak about his neck, so as to permit his arms full play. Then from +one pocket of his overcoat he drew forth a revolver, and from the other +a bowie-knife. Grasping a weapon firmly in each hand, he stealthily +descended the hill, and on tip-toe approached the carriage, which had +indeed halted in front of the old mansion. + +The mansion, a strange and incongruous structure, built of stone, and +brick, and wood, and enlarged from the original block house, which it +had been two hundred years before, by the additions made by five or six +generations, stood in a garden, apart from the road, its roofs swept +by the leafless branches of gigantic forest-trees. In summer, quaint +and incongruous as were the outlines of the huge edifice, it put on a +beautiful look, for it was embowered in foliage, and its many roofs and +walls of brick, and wood and stone, were hidden in a garment of vines +and flowers. But now, in the blackness of this drear winter daybreak, +it was black and desolate enough. Not a single light shed a cheerful +ray, from any of the windows. + +Gliding behind the trunk of a sycamore, the colonel heard the voice of +the unknown man, as he conducted the boy, Gulian, from the carriage +along the garden walk toward the hall door. + +"Here you will be safe from all intrusion. I must return to the city at +once, but I will be back early in the morning. Meanwhile, you can take +a quiet sleep. You are not afraid to sleep in the old house, are you?" + +"Oh, no, no,--afraid of nothing but _his_ persecution," was the answer. + +The colonel heard these words, and watched the figures of the unknown +and Gulian, as they passed from the garden walk under the shadow of the +porch, and into the hall door. + +And then he waited,--O how earnestly and with what a tide of hopes, +suspicions, fears!--for the re-appearance of the unknown! + +Five minutes passed. + +"The boy has not had time to confess _the secret_,"--the thought almost +rose to the colonel's lips.--"If this unknown man returns to town, +leaving Gulian here, all will yet be well." + +The hall-door opened again, was locked, and the form of the unknown, in +cloak and sombrero, once more appeared upon the garden walk. + +"To town, Felix, as fast as you can drive. I must be back within two +hours." + +"Yes, my lord." + +He entered the carriage,--it turned,--and the horses dashed up the +narrow road at full speed. + +"Two hours!" ejaculated Tarleton, as the sound of the wheels died away. +"In two hours, 'my lord!' you will find the nest robbed of its bird." + +Determined at all hazards to rescue the person of the boy, Gulian, and +bear him from the old mansion, he opened the wicket gate, and, passing +along the garden walk, approached the silent mansion. The wind sighed +mournfully among the leafless branches, and not a single ray of light +illumined the front of the gloomy pile. + +The colonel passed under the porch, and tried the hall door; it was +locked. With a half-muttered curse, he again emerged from the porch, +and from the garden walk, once more surveyed the mansion. + +Could he believe his eyes? From a narrow window, in the second story of +the western wing, a ray of light stole out upon the gloom--stole out +from an aperture in the window curtains--and trembled like a golden +thread along the garden walk. + +"The window is low,--the room is a part of the olden portion of the +mansion,--that lattice work, intended for the vines, will bear my +weight; one blow at the window-sash, and I am in the chamber!" + +Thus reflecting, the colonel, ere he began to mount the lattice work, +looked cautiously around and listened. All was dark; no sound was +heard, save the low moan of the wind among the trees. Tarleton placed +the revolver in one pocket, and buried the bowie-knife in its sheath. +Then he began cautiously to ascend the lattice work, along which, in +summer time, crept a green and flowering vine; it creaked beneath his +weight, but did not break,--in a moment he was on a level with the +narrow window. Resting his arms upon the deep window-sill, he placed +his eye to the aperture in the curtains, and looked within. + +He beheld a small room, with low ceiling, and wainscoted walls; a door, +which evidently opened upon the corridor leading to the body of the +mansion; a couch, with a canopy of faded tapestry; the floor of dark +wood, uncarpeted, and its once polished surface thick with dust; a +bureau of ebony, surmounted by an oval mirror in a frame of tarnished +gilt. The light stood upon the bureau; and, in front of the light, an +alabaster image of the crucified. + +Before this image, with head bowed upon his clasped hands, knelt the +boy, Gulian. The light shone upon his glossy hair, which fell to +his shoulders, and over the outlines of his graceful shape. He was +evidently absorbed in voiceless prayer. + +Altogether, it was a singular--yes, a beautiful picture. But the +Colonel had no time to waste on pictures, however beautiful. + +He placed his arm against the sash--it yielded--and the colonel sprang +through the window into the room. + +Gulian heard the crash, and started up, and beheld the colonel standing +near him, his arms folded on his breast, and his face stamped with a +look of fiendish triumph. + +"Oh, my God!" he ejaculated, and stood as if spell-bound by terror. + +"You see it is all in vain," said the Colonel, showing his white teeth +in a smile. "You cannot escape from me. You must do my will. Come, my +child, we must be moving." + +He placed Gulian's cap upon his chesnut curls, and pointed to the door. + +The eyes of the poor youth were wild with affright. He evidently stood +in mortal terror of Tarleton. His glance roved from side to side, and +he ejaculated-- + +"In his power again; just as I thought myself forever safe from his +persecution!" + +"Answer me--where did you meet the man who brought you to this house?" + +As he spoke, Tarleton seized the boy by the wrist. + +"In the street; I had fainted on the sidewalk," was the answer, in a +tremulous voice. + +"And how came you in the street at such an unusual hour?" + +"When you left Mr. Somers' house, you threatened to return to-morrow," +answered Gulian, clasping his hands over his breast. "I was determined +to avoid seeing you again, at all hazards. I left the house, and +wandered forth, uncertain whither to direct my steps. Yes--oh yes! +I had one purpose plainly in my mind,"--he smiled, and his eyes +brightened up with a strange light,--"I resolved to bend my steps to +the river." + +"To the river?" + +"Yes, to the river," answered the boy, with a singular smile: "for you +know that if I was drowned, I would be safe from you forever." + +"And you would become a--suicide!" said Tarleton, with a sneer; "you, +so finely brought up! Have you no fear of the hereafter?" + +Gulian's pale face lighted with a faint glow.--"There are some deeds +which are worse than suicide," he answered quietly, yet with a +significant glance. "It was to avoid the commission of one of these +deeds, that, scarcely an hour ago, I left the house of Mr. Somers and +bent my steps to the river." + +"And you fainted, and this man came across you while you were +insensible--eh? Who is he? and what was it that led him from his +carriage, along the street where he found you?" + +"An impulse, or presentiment, as he told me, which he could not resist, +and which impressed him that he might save the life of a fellow-being. +He left his carriage; he arrived before it was too late. In a little +while I should have been frozen to death." + +Again Tarleton seized the boy by the wrist; and his brow grew dark, his +eyes fierce and threatening. + +"And you confessed _the secret_ to this man?" he exclaimed. "Nay, deny +it not!" He tightened his grasp. "You did confess--did you not?" + +"Oh, pity!--do not harm me!" and Gulian shrunk before Tarleton's gaze. +"I did not confess _the secret_--indeed I did not." + +"Swear you did not!" + +"I swear I did not!" + +"I will not believe you, unless you will place your hand upon this +crucifix, and swear by the Savior, that you did not reveal _the +secret_." + +The boy placed his hand upon the alabaster image, and said solemnly, +"By the name of the Savior, I swear that I did not reveal _the secret_ +of which you speak." + +Tarleton burst into a laugh. + +"I breathe freer!" he cried. "You are superstitious; and, with your +hand upon an image like that, I know you cannot lie. _The secret_ is +safe, and all will yet be well. Come, we must go." + +"Oh, you do not want me now!" cried Gulian, shrinking away from his +grasp--"now that you are assured of the security of _the secret_?" + +"Worse than ever, my boy," cried Tarleton, with a tone of mocking +gayety. "I am positively starving to death for your company. To-day and +to-morrow you must be with me all the time, and never for an instant +quit my sight. After that you are free!" + +The countenance of Gulian, in which a masculine vigor of thought was +tempered by an almost woman-like roundness of outline and softness of +expression, underwent a sudden and peculiar change. + +"I will not go with you," he said, slowly and firmly, his eyes shining +vividly, while his face was unnaturally pale. + +"You will not go with me?" and Tarleton advanced with a scowling +brow--"We'll see, we'll see,--" + +"I will not go with you," repeated Gulian. "You call me superstitious. +It may be superstition which makes my blood run cold with loathing, +when you are near me; or it may be some voiceless warning from the +dead, who, while in this life, were deeply injured by you. But it is +not superstition which induces me to place my hand upon this crucifix, +and tell you, that you cannot drag me from it, save at peril of your +life. Ah, you sneer! The house is deserted:--true. The crucifix of +frail alabaster:--true. But you are fairly warned. The moment that +crucifix breaks, to you is one of peril." + +Tarleton knew not what to make of the expression and words of the boy. +At first there was something in the look of Gulian which touched him, +against his will; but, as the closing words fell on his car, he burst +into a laugh. "Come, child, we'll leave the house by the hall door," +he said; and, as he passed an arm around Gulian's waist, he placed the +other hand upon the door which led into the passage: "Nay, you need +not cling to that bauble! Come! I'll endure this nonsense no longer--" + +The alabaster image was crushed in the grasp of Gulian, as he was torn +from it; and at the same instant the colonel opened the door. + +Gulian, struggling in the grasp of Tarleton, clapped his hands twice, +and cried aloud: "Cain! Cain!" + +The next moment it seemed as though a crushing weight had bounded, or +been hurled, against the colonel's back; he was dashed to the floor; +he found himself struggling in the fangs of a huge dog, with short, +shaggy hair, black as jet, short ears, and formidable jaws. As the dog +uttered a low growl, his teeth sank deep into the back of Tarleton's +neck, and Tarleton uttered a groan of intolerable agony. Tarleton was +dragged along the floor, by the ferocious beast, which raised him by +the neck, and then dashed him to the floor again; treating him as the +tiger treats the prey which he is about to strangle and kill. + +Cain was indeed a ferocious beast. He had accompanied the unknown over +half the globe; and was obedient to his slightest sign; defending those +whom he wished defended, and attacking those whom he wished attacked. +Before leaving the mansion, the unknown had placed Cain before the +door of Gulian's room, and given Gulian into its charge. "Guard him, +Cain! obey him, Cain!" And, as Tarleton opened the door, at a sign and +a word from Gulian, the dog proved faithful to his master's bidding. +In the grasp of this formidable animal, Tarleton now found himself +writhing--his blood spurting over the floor, as he was dragged along. + +As Gulian beheld this scene, and heard the cries of Tarleton mingling +with the low growl of the dog, his heart relented. He forgot all that +Tarleton had made him suffer. + +"Cain! Cain!--here, Cain!--here!" he cried; but in vain. Cain had +tasted blood. His teeth twined deep in his victim's neck; and his jaws +reddened with Tarleton's blood; he did not hear the voice of Gulian. + +It was a terrible moment for Tarleton. Uttering frightful imprecations +between his howls of pain, he made a last and desperate effort--an +effort strengthened by despair and by pain, which seemed as the pang of +death,--he turned, even as the teeth of the dog were in his neck; he +clenched the infuriated animal by the throat. Then took place a brief +but horrible contest, in which the dog and the man rolled over each +other, the man clutching, as with a death-grasp, the throat of the dog, +and the dog burying his teeth in the man's shoulder. + +Gulian could bear the sight no longer; he sank, half fainting, against +the bureau, and hid his eyes from the light. + +Presently, the uproar of the combat--the growl of the dog, and the +cries of Tarleton--were succeeded by a dead stillness. + +Gulian raised his eyes. + +Tarleton stood in the center of the room, his face and white coat +bathed in blood--his bowie-knife, also dripping with blood, held aloft +in his right hand. He presented a frightful spectacle. His coat was +rent over the right shoulder, and his mangled flesh was discernible. +And that face, whose death-like pallor was streaked with blood, bore an +expression of anguish and of madness, which chilled Gulian's heart but +to behold. + +At his feet was stretched the huge carcass of the dog. The gash across +his throat, from which the blood was streaming over the floor, had been +inflicted by the hand of the colonel, in the extremest moment of his +despair. Cain had fought his last battle. As Tarleton shook the bloody +knife over his head, the brave old dog uttered his last moan and died. + +"It will not do, my child--it will not do," and Tarleton burst into +a loud and unnatural laugh. "You must go with me! With me; alive or +dead." He rushed towards Gulian, brandishing the knife. "Oh, you d----d +wretch! do you know that I've a notion to cut you into pieces, limb by +limb?" + +"Mercy! mercy!" shrieked the boy, falling on his knees, as that face, +dabbled in blood, and writhing, as with madness, in every feature, +_glowered_ over him. + +But Tarleton did not strike. He placed his hand upon his forehead, +and made a desperate effort to recall his shattered senses. Suffering +intolerable physical agony, he was yet firm in the purpose which had +led him to the old mansion. + +"If I can get this boy to the carriage, all will yet be well!" he +muttered. "I'll faint soon from loss of blood; but not until this boy +is in my power. Brain, do not fail me now!" + +He dropped the bloody knife upon the carcass of the dog; and, taking a +handkerchief from his pocket, he bound it tightly around his throat. +Then, lifting his cloak from the floor, he wound it about him, and +writhed with pain, as it touched the wound on his shoulder. + +"Now will you go with me alive, or dead?" He lifted the knife again, +and advanced to Gulian. "Take your choice. If your choice is life,"--he +could not refrain a cry of pain--"take the light and go on before me!" + +Trembling in every limb, his gaze riveted to the face of Tarleton, +Gulian took the light, and crossed the threshold of the room. Tarleton +followed him with measured step, still clutching the knife in his right +hand. + +"On--on!" muttered Tarleton; "attempt to escape, and I strike,--on--," +and he reeled like a drunken man, and fell insensible at Gulian's feet. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +RANDOLPH AND HIS BROTHER. + + +The hour of dawn drew near, Randolph was in his own chamber, seated by +his bed, watching the face of the sleeper, who was slumbering there. + +A singular look passed over Randolph's visage, as he held the candle +over the sleeper's face,--a look hard to define or analyze, for it +seemed to indicate a struggle between widely different emotions. There +was compassion and revenge, brotherly love and mortal hatred in that +look. + +For the sleeper was Harry Royalton, of Hill Royal. + +The candle burned near and nearer to its socket,--the morning light +began to mingle with its fading rays,--and still Harry slept on, and +still Randolph watched, his eyes fixed on his brother's visage, and his +own face disturbed by opposing emotions. + +It was near morning when Harry woke. + +"Hey! halloo! what's this?" he cried, starting up in the bed, and +surveying the spacious apartment,--strange to him,--with a vacant +stare. "Where am I?" + +His gaze fell upon Randolph, who was seated by the bed. + +"You here?" and his countenance fell.--"What in the devil does all this +mean?" + +Randolph did not reply. There was a slight trembling of his nether lip, +and his eyes grew brighter as he fixed his gaze on his brother's face. + +"Where's my coat?" cried Harry, surveying his shirt sleeves, +"and my cravat,"--he passed his hands over his muscular +throat,--"and--you,--what in the devil are _you_ doing here?" + +Randolph, still keeping his gaze on his brother's face, said in a low +voice,--"I am in my own house, brother." + +"Your house?" ejaculated Harry, and then burst into a laugh,--"come, +now,--don't,--that's too good." + +"My own house, to which I brought you some hours ago, after I had +rescued you from the persons in the cellar----" + +"_Rescued_ me?" and an incredulous smile passed over Harry's face as he +pulled at his bushy whiskers. "Better yet,--ha! ha!--You don't think to +stuff me with any such damned nonsense?" + +Randolph grew paler, but his eye flashed with deeper light. + +"Brother, I did rescue you," he said, in the same low voice, as he bent +forward.--"As we were about to engage in conflict, you fell like a +dead man on the floor. I took you in my arms; I defended you from the +negroes who were clamorous for your blood; I bore you to upper air, and +I, brother, then brought you in a carriage to my home; and I laid you +on my bed, brother; and when you awoke from your swoon,--awoke with the +ravings of delirium on your tongue,--I soothed you, until you fell in a +sound sleep. This is the simple truth, brother." + +Harry grew red in the face, then pale,--bit his lip,--pulled his +whiskers, and then without turning his head, regarded Randolph with a +sidelong glance. To tell the simple truth, Harry did not know what to +say. He felt a swelling of the heart, a warmth in his veins, as though +the magnetic gaze of Randolph had influenced him even against his will. + +"You did all this?"--there was a faint tremor in his voice. + +"I did, brother,"--Randolph's voice was deep and earnest. + +"Why,--why,--did not you kill me, when you had me in your power?" + +"Brother, the blood of John Augustus Royalton flows in my veins, and it +is not like a Royalton to strike a fallen foe." + +"And you could have put poison in my drink," hesitated Harry, impressed +against his will by the manner of his brother. + +"I never heard of a Royalton who became a poisoner." + +"A _Royalton_? and you call yourself a Royalton?" said Harry, still +regarding his brother with a sidelong gaze. + +Randolph bit his lip, and folded his arms upon his chest, as if to +choke down the strong emotions which were struggling within him. He did +not reply. + +"I suppose I am your _prisoner_?" asked Harry, intently regarding +Randolph's face. "You can keep me secluded until the twenty-fifth of +December has passed. Is that the dodge?" + +"Brother, the door is open, and the way is free, whenever you wish to +leave this house," was Randolph's calm reply. + +"Well, if I can make you out, may I be ----!" cried Harry, and the next +moment uttered a groan of agony, for his back was very painful. "Why +did you not take me to my hotel?" he said, in a peevish, impatient tone. + +"You forget that I did not know the name of your hotel," replied +Randolph, "and beside, what place so fitting for a sick man as his +brother's home?" + +Harry grew red in the face, and then burst into a laugh.--"We've been +such good _brothers_ to each other!" + +The thought which had been working at Randolph's heart for hours, now +found utterance in words,-- + +"Brother, O, brother! why can we not indeed be brothers?" his eyes +flashed, his voice was deep and impassioned. "Children of one father, +let us forget the past; let us bury all bitter memories, all feelings +of hatred,--let us forget, forgive, and be as brothers to each other. +Harry Royalton, my brother, there is my hand." + +He rose,--his chest heaving, his eyes dimmed by tears,--and reached +forth his hand. + +Harry, completely overwhelmed by this unexpected appeal, reached forth +his hand, but drew it back again. + +"No," he cried, as his face was flushed,--"not with a nigger." The +contempt, the scorn, the rage which convulsed his face, as he said +these words, cannot be depicted. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE HUSBAND AND THE PROFLIGATE. + + +The boat was upon the river, borne onward over the wintery waves and +through the floating ice, by the strong arms of two sturdy oarsmen. + +Behind, like a huge black wall, was the city, a faint line of light +separating its roofs from the bleak sky. Around were the waves, loaded +with piles of floating ice, which crashed together with incessant +uproar; and through the gloom the boat drove onward, bearing one man, +perchance two men, to certain death. + +Eugene and Robert, muffled in their cloaks, sat side by side on the +stern; Beverly and his friend, the major, also muffled in their cloaks, +sat side by side in the bow. + +Eugene had drawn his cloak over his face as if to hide even from the +faint light, the agony which was gnawing at his heart-strings. + +"In case anything should happen," whispered Robert, "have you any +message to send to _her_?" + +"None," was the reply, uttered in a choking voice. + +"Damn her!" said Robert, between his teeth. + +Meanwhile, in the bow of the boat, Beverly, shuddering within his +thick cloak, not so much from cold as from a mental cause, said to his +friend, the major,-- + +"No way to get out o' this, I suppose, major?" + +"None," said the major. + +"I'd give a horse for a mouthful of good brandy----" + +"Here it is," and the major drew a wicker flask from the folds of his +cloak. "I always carry a pocket-pistol; touch her light." + +It may be that Beverly "touched her light," but he held the flask to +his mouth for a long time, and did not return it to the major until its +contents were considerably diminished. + +"A cursed scrape," he muttered. "If anything happens, what'll become of +my daughter?" It seems he had a motherless child,--"and then there's +the Van Huyden estate. If he wings me, all my hope of that is gone,--of +course it is." + +At length the broad river was crossed, and the oarsmen ran the boat +into a sheltered cove, some three miles above Hoboken. + +The first glimpse of the coming morn stole over the broad river, the +distant city, and the magnificent bay. + +"Wait for us,--you know what I told you?" said Robert to the oarsmen, +who were stout fellows, in rough overcoats, and tarpaulin hats. + +"Ay, ay sir," they responded in a breath. + +"Major, you lead the way," said Robert, "up the heights we'll find a +quiet place." + +The Major took Beverly by the arm, and began to climb the steep ascent, +over wildly scattered rocks, and among leafless trees. + +They were followed by Robert and Eugene arm in arm. + +After much difficult wayfaring, they reached the summit of the heights, +just in time to catch the first ray of the rising sun, as it shot +upward, among the leaden clouds of the eastern horizon. + +All at once the steeples of the city caught the glow, and the distant +day blushed scarlet and gold on every wave. + +Among the heights,--may be some three miles above Hoboken,--there is +a quiet nook, imbosomed, in the summer time, in foliage, and opening +to the south-east, in a view of the Empire City, and Manhattan Bay. A +place as level as a floor, bounded on all sides save one, by oak, and +chestnut and cedar, with great rocks piled like monuments of a long +passed age, among the massive trunks. It is green in summer time, with +a carpet-like sward, and then the tree branches are woven together by +fragrant vines; there are flowers about the rocks and around the roots +of the old trees,--a balmy, drowsy atmosphere of June pervades the +place. And looking to the east, or south-east, you see the broad river +dotted with snowy sails, the great city, with its steeples glittering +in the light, and with the calm, clear, vast Heaven arching overhead. +The Bay gleams in the distance, white with sails, or shadowed here +and there by the steamer's cloud of smoke, and far away Staten Island +closes the horizon like a wall. Standing by one of these huge rocks, +encircled by the trees, and steeped in the quiet of the place, you gaze +upon the distant city, like one contemplating a far off battle-field, +in which millions are engaged, and the fate of empires is the stake. +A sadder battle-field, sun never shone upon, than the Empire City, in +which millions are battling every moment of the hour, and battling all +life long for fame, for wealth, for bread, for life. Sometimes the +quiet nook rings with the laugh of happy children, who come here to +stretch themselves upon the grass, and gather flowers among the rocks, +and around the nooks of the grand old trees. + +Far different is the scene on this drear winter morning. The trees are +leafless; they raise their skeleton arms against the cold bleak sky. +The rocks, no longer clad in vines and flowers, are grim and bare, with +crowns of snow upon their summits. The glade itself, no longer clad +with velvet-like sward, is faded and brown. The rising sun trembles +through the leafless trees, invests the rocks with a faint glow of rosy +light, and falls along the brown surface of the glade, investing it for +a moment with a cheerful gleam. + +And in the light of the rising sun, in sight of river, city, and +distant bay, two men stand ready for the work of death. + +The ground is measured; the seconds stand apart; before the fatal word +is given, the combatants survey each other. + +Eugene, with bared head, stands on the north, his slender form +enveloped in a closely buttoned frock-coat. He is lividly pale, but +the hand which grasps the pistol does not tremble. Notwithstanding the +bitter cold, there is moisture on his forehead; the fire which burns in +his eyes, tells you that his emotion is anything but fear. One glance +toward the city,--one thought perhaps of other days,--and he is ready. + +Opposite, in the south, his hat drawn over his flaxen curls, his tall +form enveloped in a close fitting frock-coat, Beverly with an uncertain +eye and trembling hand, is nerving himself for the fatal moment. He is +afraid. As he catches a glimpse of the face of Eugene, his heart dies +within him. All color has forsook his usually florid face. + +"Gentlemen, you will fire when I give the word,--" cries Major Barton +from the background of withered shrubbery. "Are you ready?" + +But at this moment the voice of Beverly is heard--"Eugene! Eugene!" he +cries, and starts forward, rapidly diminishing the ten paces, which lie +between them--"Eugene! Eugene! my friend--can I make no apology, no +reparation--" + +Both Robert and the Major, saw Eugene's face, as he turned toward the +seducer. The sun, which had been obscured by a passing cloud, shone out +again, and shone full upon the face of Eugene. The look which stamped +every line of that bronzed visage, was never forgotten by those who +beheld it. O, the withering scorn of the lip, the concentrated hatred +of the dark eyes, the utter loathing which impressed every lineament! + +"_Friend_!" he echoed, as for a moment he looked Beverly in the +face--and then turning to Barton, he said quietly: "Major take your man +away. If he is a coward as well as a scoundrel, let us know it." + +The look appalled Beverly; he receded step by step, unable to take his +eyes from Eugene's face;-- + +"Be a man, curse you," whispered Barton who had glided to his +side--"D'ye hear?" and he clutched him by the arm, with a grasp, that +made Beverly writhe with pain--"Take your place, and fire as I give the +word." + +In a moment, Beverly was in his place, his right hand grasping his +pistol, dropped by his side, which was presented toward Eugene, who, +ten paces off, stood in a corresponding position. + +Barton retired to the background, taking his place beside Robert. +"Gentlemen, I am about to give the word!" said Barton, and then there +was a pause like death,--"One--two--three! Fire!" + +They wheeled and fired, Eugene with a fixed and decided aim; Beverly +with eyes swimming in terror, and hand trembling with fright. The smoke +of the pistols curled gracefully through the wintery air. Beverly +stumbled as he fired, and fell on one knee; Eugene stood bolt upright +for a moment, the pistol in his extended hand, and then fell flat upon +his face. + +Eugene's bullet sank into the cedar tree, directly behind where +Beverly's head had been, only a moment before. Beverly was uninjured. +No doubt the false step which he had made in wheeling had saved his +life. + +Eugene lay flat upon his face, the pistol still clutched in his +extended hand. + +The brother of Joanna rushed forward and raised him to his feet,--there +was a red wound between his eyes,--he was dead. + +The husband had been killed by the seducer of his wife. + +Behold the justice of the Law of Duel! + +"The damned fool," was the commentary of the phlegmatic Robert, as with +tears gushing from his eyes, he held the body of the dead husband, +and at the same time regarded Beverly, who pale with fright, cringed +against a tree,--"If he'd a-taken my advice, he'd a-killed you like a +dog, last night. He'd a-pitched you from the third story window,--he +would,--and mashed your brains out against the pavement." + +The sun came out from behind a cloud, and lighted the face of Eugene +Livingston, with the red wound between his fixed eyeballs. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +ISRAEL AND HIS VICTIM. + + +Israel Yorke left the Temple, accompanied by Ninety-One and followed +by the eleven. Israel, clad once more in his every-day _practical_ +dress, with his hat drawn over his bald head, and his diminutive form +enveloped in a loose sack of dark cloth, looked like a dwarf beside the +almost gigantic frame of Ninety-One. Yet Ninety-One, with creditable +politeness, gave his arm to the Financier, and urged him onward in +the darkness, toward Broadway, something in the manner that you may +have seen a very willing boy, assist the progress of a very unwilling +dog,--the boy's hand being attached to one end of a string, and the +dog's neck to the other. And Ninety-One cheered Israel with various +remarks of a consolatory character, such as, "go in gold specks! let +her went my darlin'! don't give it up so easy!--" and so-forth. + +"It's so dark, and I'm so devilish cold," whined Israel, in vain +endeavoring to keep pace with the giant strides of his huge +companion,--"Where the deuce are we going anyhow?" + +"Come along feller sinners," said Ninety-One, looking over his +shoulders at the eleven who followed sturdily in the rear. The eleven +did not deign to express themselves in words, but manifested some +portion of their feelings, by bringing their clubs upon the pavement, +with something of the force of thunder, and more of the wickedness of +a suddenly _slammed_ door. "Where are we leadin' you to? To one of yer +tenants, Isr'el,--one of yer tenants, you pertikler example of all the +christ'in vartues,--" + +"To one of my tenants!" echoed Israel. + +"To one of yer tenants," repeated Ninety-One, and he crossed a curb as +he spoke, and gave Israel's arm a wrench which nearly tore the arm from +Israel's body.--"You know you've got to pay cash for your bank notes +to-day, an' you'll need all the money you can rake and scrape. To-day's +rent day,--isn't it? Well we're goin' on a collectin' _tower_ among yer +tenants. Ain't we feller sinners?" + +He turned his head over his shoulder, and again the clubs thundered +their applause. + +"I'll be deuced if I can make you out," said Israel arranging his +'specks,' which had been displaced by one of the eccentric movements +of Ninety-One,--and Israel felt very much like the man who, finding +himself late at night, very unexpectedly in the same bed-room with a +bear, desired exceedingly to get out of the room, but thought it no +more than proper to be civil to the bear until he did get out. + +"Don't you own a four story house in ---- street?" asked Ninety-One. + +"I do. Four stories,--two to four rooms on a floor,--besides the cellar +and the garret,--a fine property,--and, to-day _is_ rent day--" + +"You stow 'em away like maggots in a stale cheese,--do you?" and +Ninety-One stopped, and regarded the little man admiringly,--added in +an under tone, "Moses! How I'd like to have the picklin' of you!" + +Thus conversing, they entered Broadway, along which they passed +for some distance, and at last turned down a by-street, the eleven +following them closely all the while. + +They stood in front of a huge edifice, four stories high, formerly +the residence of a Wall street nabob, but now the abode of,--we are +afraid to say how many families. The basement was, of course, occupied +as a manufactory of New York politics,--in simple phrase, it was a +grog-shop; and although the hour was exceedingly late, its door was +wide open, and the sound of drunken voices and the fragrance of bad +rum, ascended together upon the frosty air. Save the basement, the +entire front of the mansion was dark as ink; the poor wretches who +burrowed in its many rooms, were doubtless sleeping after the toil of +the winter's day. + +"In the fourth story you have a tenant named ---- ----?" whispered +Ninety-One. + +"Yes; a poor devil," responded Israel Yorke. + +"Let's go up an' see the poor devil," said Ninety-One, and grasping +Israel firmly by the arm, he passed through the front door and up the +narrow stairway. + +The eleven followed in silence, supporting Israel firmly in the rear. + +As they reached the head of the fourth stairway, Ninety-One put forth +his brawny hand, and,--in the darkness,--felt along the wall. + +"Here's the door," he whispered, "in a minnit we'll bust in upon your +tenant like a thousand o' brick." + +Israel felt himself devoured by curiosity, suspense, and fear. + +As for the eleven gathering around Israel closely in the darkness, they +preserved a dead silence, only broken for a moment by the exclamation +of one of their number,--"What a treat it 'ud be to pitch this here +cuss down stairs!" + +"Hush, boys! hark!" said Ninety-One, and laid his hand upon the latch +of the door. + +Before we enter the door and gaze upon the scene which Ninety-One +disclosed to the gaze of Israel Yorke, our history must retrace its +steps. + +It was nightfall, and the light of the lamps glittering among the +leafless trees of the Park, mingled with the last flush of the departed +day, and the mild, tremulous rays of the first stars of evening. At +the corner of Broadway and Chambers street, two young men held each +other by the hand, as they talked together. The contrast between their +faces and general appearance was most remarkable, even for this world +of contrasts. One tall in stature, with florid cheeks, and blue eyes +glittering with life and hope, was the very picture of health. He +was dressed at the top of the fashion. A sleekly-brushed beaver sat +jauntily upon his chesnut curls; an overcoat of fine gray cloth fitted +closely to his vigorous frame, and by its rolling collar, suffered his +blue scarf and diamond pin to be visible; his hands were gloved, and he +carried a delicate cane, adorned with a head of amber; and his voice +and laugh rung out so cheerily upon the frosty air! + +The other,--alas! for the contrast,--dressed in a long overcoat of +faded brown cloth, resembled a living skeleton. His face was terribly +emaciated; his cheeks sunken; his eyes hollow. His voice was low and +husky. As he spoke, his eyes lighted up like fire-coals, and seemed +to burn in his sallow and withered face. His hair, black as jet, +and straight and long, only made his countenance seem more pale and +death-like. He was evidently in the last stage of consumption, and +his dress, neat as it was,--the faded brown coat, and much-worn hat +carefully brushed,--betokened poverty, and the saddest poverty of +all,--that which tries, and vainly, to hide itself under a "decent" +exterior. + +And thus they met, at the corner of Chambers street and Broadway, Lewis +Harding, the rich broker and man of fashion, and John Martin, the poor +artist and--dying man. They had been playmates and school-fellows in +other years. Five years ago, they left the academy, in a country town, +to try their fortunes in the world; both orphans, both young, both full +of life and hope, and--poor. Harding had taken the world _as he found_ +it, adopted its philosophy,--"Success is the only test of merit,"--and +became a rich broker and a man of fashion. John Martin had taken the +world as it _ought to have been_,--believed in the goodness of mankind, +and in the certainty of honest success following honest labor--of hand +and brain,--steadily devoted to the elevation of man. He became an +artist, and,--we see him before us now. + +"Why, Jack, my dear fellow, what are you doing out in the cold air?" +said Harding, in his kindly voice. "You ought to be more careful of +yourself,----" + +"I am out in the cold air, because I cannot breathe freely in the +house," answered the artist, with a smile on his cadaverous lips. + +"But you have no cough,--you'll be better in spring." + +"True, I have no cough, but the doctor informed me to-day that my right +lung was entirely gone, and my left hard after it; the simple truth is, +I am wasting to death; and I hate the idea of dying in bed. I want to +keep on my feet,--I want to keep in the air,--I want to die on my feet." + +Harding had rapidly grown into a man of the world, but somehow the +tears started into his eyes. + +"But you must keep up your spirits, Jack,--in the spring you will +be----" + +"In my grave, Harding; there's no use of lying about it." + +And his eyes flared up, and a bitter smile moved his lips. + +"O, how's the wife and children?" said Harding; as though anxious to +change the conversation. + +"They are well," said John, and a singular look passed over his face. + +"And your sister?" + +"Eleanor is well,"--and the vivid brightness of his eyes was for a +moment vailed in moisture. + +"O, by-the-bye, I met Nelly the other day," said Harding. "Bless +my soul! what a handsome little girl she has grown! It was in a +store where they sell embroidered work. I was pricing a set of +regalia,--thirty dollars they said was the price,--and little Nell had +worked on it about three weeks for five dollars. Great world, Jack!" + +"Good night, Harding," said the artist, quietly. + +"But let me accompany you home,----" + +"I'd rather you would not. Good night, Harding." + +"But God bless you, John, can't I do anything for you?" + +"Why, why after I am dead,"--and the words seemed to stick in his +throat,--"after I am dead,--my wife,--my sister,----" he could say no +more. + +"I swear that I will protect them," said Harding, warmly. John quietly +pressed his hand, and turned his face away. After a moment they parted, +Harding down Broadway on his way to the theater, and John up Broadway, +on his way home. And Harding gazed after John for a moment,--"I'm glad +he didn't want to borrow money! Nell is quite a beauty!" + +Walking slowly, and pausing every now and then to breathe, John gazed +in the bright shop-windows, and into the contrasted faces of the +hurrying crowd as he passed along. + +"Soon this will be all over for me," he muttered, with a husky laugh. +"I'm afraid, friend John, that you are taking your last walk." + +An arm was gently thrust through his own, and a voice light and +trilling as the notes of a bird, said quietly,-- + +"I'm so glad I've caught up with you John,"--and he leaned upon that +gentle arm, and turned to look upon the face of the speaker. It was his +sister Eleanor, a very pretty child of some fourteen years, dressed in +a faded cloak, and with a hood on her dark hair. Her complexion was a +rich brown, tinged with red in the cheeks; her eyes, brows and hair, +all black as midnight. And by turns, over that face, in which the woman +began to mingle with the child, there flitted a look of the brightest +joyousness, and an expression of the most touching melancholy. + +"I've just been taking my work home, John. They paid me half a dollar +for what I have done this week, (and that, you know, John, will keep +us in bread and coal to-morrow,) and O, I am so glad you've got eight +dollars saved for the rent. I am _so_ glad! The rent is due to-morrow, +and the landlord is such a hard man." + +"Yes, I have eight dollars," John said, and there was an indefinable +accent marking every word. "Yes, Nelly, dear, I have eight dollars." + +"John, do tell me, who are those good ladies who pass us every moment, +dressed so richly,--all in velvet, and satin, and jewels; who are they, +John?" + +John stopped,--bent upon his cane,--looked for a moment upon the crowd +which whirled past him,--and then into the happy, innocent face of his +sister. And then his shrunken chest heaved with a sigh. "O God!" he +said, in a low voice. + +"Who are they, John,--do tell me,--they must be very, O, ever so rich." + +"Those handsome ladies, dressed so gaudily, Nelly, are sisters and +daughters. Once they had brothers and fathers who protected them, and +now their fathers and brothers are dead. The world takes care of them +now, Nelly." + +The poor girl heard his words, but did not guess their hidden meaning. +Still supporting her brother on her arm, she continued,-- + +"Do you know, John, that your handsome friend, Mr. Harding, met me in +the store the other day, and said he took such an interest in me, and +that if I chose I might be dressed as rich and gayly as these grand +ladies, who pass us every moment." + +John started as though he had trodden upon a snake. "And only +a moment ago he promised to protect her when I am gone," he +muttered,--"_Protection_!" + +And thus they passed along until turning into a by-street, they came +near their home, which was composed of a single room, up four pairs of +stairs, in a four-storied edifice. At the street door they were met +by a young woman, plainly,--meagerly clad, but with a finely-rounded +form, and a countenance, rich, not only in loveliness, but in all the +_goodness_ of womanly affection. It was the artist's wife. + +"O, John, I have been so anxious about you," she said, and took him by +the arm; and while Nelly held the other, she gently led him through +the doorway and up the dark stairs. "Why will you go out when it is so +cold?" + +"I want air, Annie, _air_," he returned in his hollow voice,--"and I +will die on my feet." + +And the wife and sister helped the dying artist gently up the stairs; +gently, slowly, step by step, and led him at last over the threshold, +into that room which was their home. + +About an hour afterward, John was seated in an arm-chair, in the center +of that home, whose poverty was concealed as much as might be, by +the careful exertions of his wife and sister. In the arm-chair, his +death-like face looking ghastly in the candle-light,--his wife, a woman +of _blonde_ countenance, blue eyes, and chesnut-hair, on one side; his +sister, with her dark hair, and clear, deep eyes, on the other; each +holding a hand of the husband and the brother. A boy of four years, +sat on a stool, looking up quietly with his big eyes into his father's +face; and near, a little girl of three years, who took her brother +by the hand, and also looked in the face of the dying artist. Very +beautiful children; plainly clad, it is true, but beautiful; the girl +with light hair and blue eyes, reflecting the mother, while the boy, +dark-haired and black-eyed, was the image of the father. + +The table, spread with the remains of the scanty meal, stood near; the +grate was filled with lighted coals; a bed with a carefully patched +coverlet stood in one corner; between the two windows was placed an +old-fashioned bureau; and two pictures adorned the neatly whitewashed +walls. + +Such was the picture, and such the artist's home. + +The stillness which had prevailed since supper, was at length broken by +the voice of John. + +"Annie, I'll leave you soon," he said, quietly, and his eyes lighted +up.--"O, wouldn't it be a good thing if we could all die together! To +die, I do not fear, but to leave you all,--and in such a world! O, my +God! such a world!" + +Annie buried her face in her hands, and rested her hands against the +arm of the chair. Nelly, her large eyes brimful of tears, quietly put +his hand to her lips. And the little boy, in his childish way, asked +what "to die" meant. + +"Bring me that picture, Nelly,"--he pointed to a picture on the wall. +She went and brought it quietly. "Now let down the window a little, for +I feel the want of air, and come and sit by me again." + +He took the picture and gazed upon it earnestly and long. It was a +picture of himself, in the prime of young manhood, the cheeks rounded, +the eyes full of hope, the brow, shaded by glossy black hair, stamped +with genius. A picture taken only sixteen months before. + +"Only sixteen months ago, Nelly," he said. "Only sixteen months ago, +Annie; and now--well, there's a crayon sketch on the bureau, which +I took of myself the other day, as I looked in the glass. Bring it, +Nelly." + +His sister brought the crayon sketch; and, with a sad smile, he held it +beside the other picture. It was all too faithful. His prominent cheek +bones, hollow cheeks, colorless lips, and sunken eyes, all were copied +there; only the deathly fire of the eyes was lacking. + +"A sad contrast, isn't it, Annie? When this picture was taken, sixteen +months ago, we were all doing well. My pictures sold; some lithographs +which I executed, met also with ready sale. I had as much as I could +do, and everything was bright before me. I even thought of a tour to +Italy! Don't you remember our nice little cottage out in the country, +Nell? But I was taken sick--sick;--I couldn't work any longer. Our +money was soon spent; and you, Annie, made shirts; and you, Nelly, you +embroidered; and that kept us thus far--and--," he stopped, and gazed +upon his wife and sister, who were weeping silently: and then upon his +children. "And now I must go and leave you in this world.--Oh, my God! +such a world!" + +"Don't think of us, John," said his wife. "If you could only live,--" + +"Oh, you will--you will get better, as the spring comes on," exclaimed +Nelly; "and we'll go into the country, on the first sunny day, and +gather flowers there." + +John drew forth from his vest pocket certain pieces of paper, which he +spread forth upon his knee. Bank notes, each marked with the figure +2, and signed by the name of Israel Yorke, (a prominent banker of the +_bogus_ stamp,) in a bold hand. There were four in all. + +"This is the eight dollars, Annie, which I saved to pay our rent," said +the artist. + +The wife and sister gazed upon the bank notes earnestly--for those +bank notes were their last hope. Those bank notes were "_rent money_;" +and of all money on the earth of God, none is so bitterly earned by +Poverty, nor so pitilessly torn from its grasp by the hand of Avarice, +as "_rent money_." + +"Well,--well;"--and John paused, as if the words choked him. "These +notes are not worth one penny. All of Israel Yorke's banks broke +to-day." + +There was not a word spoken for five minutes, or more. This news went +like an ice-bolt through the hearts of the wife and sister. + +"And to-morrow we'll be put into the street by this same Israel Yorke, +who is also our landlord;" said John, breaking the long pause. "Put the +window a little lower, Nelly--it feels close--I want air." + +Nelly obeyed; and resumed her seat at her brother's face, which now +glowed on the cheeks and shone in the eyes with an expression which she +could not define. + +"Oh, wouldn't it be good, Annie--would not it be glorious, Nelly--if +I could gather you all up in my arms and take you with me, whither I +am going?" he said, with a sort of rapture, looking from his children +to his wife and sister. And then, in a gentler tone: "Kneel down, +Nelly, and say a prayer, and ask God to forgive us all our sins--_all_, +remember,--and to smooth the way for us, so that we may all go to Him." + +Neither Nelly nor Annie remarked the singular emphasis which +accompanied these words. + +Nelly knelt in their midst, and prayed. + +As she uttered that simple and child-like prayer, John fixed his eyes +upon her face, and muttered, "And so he took a great _interest_ in you, +and would dress you gayly, would he?" + +Then he said, aloud, in a kind of wild and wandering way--"Now we've +had our last supper, and our last prayer. It will soon be time for us +to go. Call me, love, in time for the cars." + +He paused, and raised his hand to his forehead,-- + +"Don't cry, Annie; my mind wanders a little--that's all. I want rest. +I'll take a little sleep in the chair, and you and Nelly, and the +children, lay down in the bed. And let me kiss the children, and do you +all kiss me--" + +The young mother lifted the little boy and girl, and they pressed their +kiss upon the lips of the dying man. Then the wife and the sister; +their tears mingling on his face, as their lips were pressed by turns +to his lips and brow. + +"Come, Nelly," whispered the wife, "we'll lay down, but we will not +sleep. He will take a little rest if he thinks we are sleeping." + +Presently the sister and the wife, with the children near them, were +resting on the bed, their hands silently joined. They conversed in +low tones, while the children fell gently asleep. But gradually their +conversation died away in inarticulate whispers; and they also slept. + +And the artist--did he sleep? By no means. Sitting erect in his +arm-chair, his back toward the bed, and his eyes every instant +glittering bright and brighter, he listened intently to the low +whispers of his wife and sister. "At last they sleep!" he cried, as +the sound of their calm, regular breathing struck his ears. "They +sleep--they sleep! They sleep--wife, sister, children; Annie, Nelly, +little John, and little Annie,--they all sleep." + +And he burst into tears. + +But his death-stricken face was radiant through his tears:--radiant +with intense joy. + +John sat silently contemplating a small image of white marble, which +he had taken from one of the drawers of the bureau. It represented the +MASTER on the cross. + +"Better go to God, and trust him, than trust to the mercy of man," he +frequently murmured. + +After much silent thought he rose, and, from beneath the bureau drew +forth two objects into the light--a sack and a small plaster furnace. +He placed the furnace in the center of the floor, and half filled it +with lighted coals from the grate. Then he poured the contents of the +sack upon the burning coals; his hands trembling, and his eyes, fiery +as they were, suddenly dimmed by moisture. + +"Charcoal, good charcoal--such a blessing to the poor! Nelly +didn't know what a blessing it was, when I sent her for it this +afternoon--that is, yesterday afternoon. It takes fire--it burns--such +a mild, rich blue flame! Opium and charcoal are the poor man's best +friends. They cost so little, and they save one from so much,"--as +he knelt on the floor, he cast his gaze over his shoulder toward the +bed--"so very much! They will save us all from so much!" + +Nelly murmured in her sleep, and rose in bed, and, opening her eyes, +gazed at her brother, kneeling by the lighted furnace, with a wild +dreamy stare. Then she lay down and slept again. + +The charcoal burned brightly, its pale blue flame casting a spectral +glow over the face of the kneeling man, so haggard and death-stricken. +The noxious gas began to fill the room. John rose and went, with +unsteady steps to the window, and eagerly inhaled the fresh air. +Resting his arms upon the sash, he felt the cold air upon his cheek, +and looked out and upward,--there was the dark blue sky set with stars. + +"In which of them, I wonder, will we all meet again?" he said, in a +wandering way. Then he tottered from the window to the bed. The air was +stifling. He breathed only in gasps. + +By the bed again, gazing upon them all,--wife, sister, children,--so +beautiful in their slumber. + +And they began to move restlessly in their sleep, and mutter +half-coherent words, and--"In the spring time, John, we'll gather +flowers," said Nelly; "You'll be better soon, John," whispered the +wife; and all was still again. + +Back to the window, with unsteady steps, to inhale another mouthful of +fresh air--to take another look at the cold, cold winter stars. + +Brighter burns the charcoal; the pale blue flame hovers there, in the +center of the room like an infernal halo. And there is Death in the air. + +Breathing in gasps, John tottered from the window again. He took the +image in one hand, the candle in the other; and thus, on tip-toe, he +approached the bed. + +A very beautiful sight. Little John and little Annie sleeping side by +side, a glow upon their cheeks,--Nelly and Annie sleeping hand joined +in hand; their beautiful faces invested with a smile that was all +quietness and peace. They did not murmur in their sleep this time. + +John's eyes glared strangely as he stood gazing upon them. "And did you +think, Annie," he said softly, putting his hand upon her head, "that +I'd leave you in this world, to work and to slave, and to rear our +children up to work and to slave, and eat the bitter bread of poverty? +And you, Nelly, did you think I'd leave you to slave here, until your +soul was sick; and then, some day, when work failed, and starvation +looked in at the window, to sell yourself to some rich scoundrel for +bread? No, wife--no, sister--no, children: _I have gathered you up in +my arms, and we're all going together_!" + +He kissed them one by one, and then tottered back toward the lighted +furnace--toward his chair--the light which he held, shining fully +over his withered face and flaming eyes. In one hand he still grasped +the marble image. He had gained half the distance to his chair, when +the door opened. A man of middle age, clad in sober black, his hair +gray, and his hooked nose supporting gold spectacles, appeared on the +threshold. + +"Ah, Doctor, is that you?" cried John, "I thought it was the +landlord;--you've come too late, Doctor, too late." + +"Too late? What mean you, Mr. Martin?" said the doctor, advancing into +the room--but starting back again, as he encountered the poisoned air. + +"Too late--too late!" cried John, the candle trembling in his unsteady +grasp, as he raised his skeleton-like form to its full height--"We're +all cured,--" + +"Cured? What mean you? How cured?" + +"Cured of--life!" said John; and, stepping quickly forward, he fell at +the doctor's feet. + +The doctor seized the light as he fell, and attempted to raise him from +the floor,--but John was dead in his arms. + + * * * * * + +Our history now returns to Israel Yorke, whom, with Ninety-One and the +eleven, we left waiting in the dark, outside the artist's door. + +"Hush, boys! hush!" whispered Ninety-One, and laid his hand upon the +latch "Enter, Isr'el, and talk to yer tenant." + +The door opened, and Israel entered, followed by Ninety-One and the +eleven, all of whom preserved a dead stillness. + +A single light was burning dimly in the artist's humble room. It cast +its rays over the humble details of the place,--over the bed, which was +covered by a white sheet. The place was deathly still. + +"What does all this mean?" cried Israel. "There is no one here." +Ninety-One took the light from the table, and led Israel silently to +the bed. The eleven gathered round in silence; you could hear their +hard breathing through the dead stillness of the room. Ninety-One +lifted the sheet, slowly; his harsh features quivering in every fiber. + +"That's what it means," he said hoarsely. + +They were there, side by side; the husband and the wife, the sister and +the children--there, cold and dead. The light, as it fell upon them, +revealed the wasted face of the artist, his closed eyelids, sunken far +in their sockets, his dark hair glued to his forehead by the moisture +of death; and the face of his young wife, with her fair cheek and sunny +hair; and the sad, beautiful face of his sister, whose dark hair lay +loosely upon her neck, while the long fringes of her eyelashes rested +darkly upon her cheek. There was a look of anguish upon the face of +John, as though Poverty had struck its iron seal upon him as he died; +but the faces of Annie and Nelly were calm, smiling--very full of +peace. The little children--the dark-haired boy, and bright-haired +girl--slept quietly, their hands clasped and their cheeks laid close +together. The poor artist, in the last wild hour of his life, had +indeed _gathered them up in his arms and taken them with him_. They had +all gone together. + +The furnace, with the fire put out, still remained in the center of the +room. + +Such was the scene which the light disclosed; a scene incredible only +to those who, unfamiliar with the ACTUAL of the large city, do not know +that all the boasted triumphs of our modern civilization but miserably +compensate for the POVERTY which it has created, and which stalks side +by side with it, at every step of its progress, like a skeleton beside +a painted harlot;--a poverty which gives to the phrase, "_I am poor!_" +a despair unknown even in the darkest ages of the most barbarous past. + +"They are asleep,--asleep, certainly," cried Israel, falling back, +"they can't be dead." + +The truth is, that Israel felt exceedingly uncomfortable. + +"They ain't asleep,--they _are_ dead," hoarsely replied Ninety-One, +and he grasped Israel fiercely by the wrist. "They are dead, you dog. +Look thar! That man owed you eight dollars for rent; he know'd if he +didn't pay you this mornin' he'd be pitched into the street, dyin' as +he was, with wife and children and sister at his heels. But he'd saved +eight dollars, Israel, an' last night he crawled out to take a walk, +an' found that his eight dollars was so much trash--found out that yer +banks had broke, an' his eight dollars in yer bank notes, was wuss than +nothin'. An' from yer bankin' house he went to a drug store, an' from +a friend he got a quick an' quiet p'ison. He came home; he put it in +the coffee, slyly; they all drank of it, an' slep'; an' then he filled +the furnace with charcoal an' lighted it, an' _then_ they slep' all +the better,--an' there they air! out o' yer clutches, dog--out o' yer +fangs, hell-hound,--gone safe to kingdom come!" + +And he clutched Israel's wrist until the little man groaned with pain. + +"But how do you know he poisoned himself and these?" faltered Israel. + +"He left a scrap o' paper in which he told about it an' the reason for +doin' it. The doctor who came in when it was too late, saw the charcoal +burnin', an' found the p'ison at the bottom of the cups. An' this +man," he pointed to one of the eleven, a sturdy fellow with a frank, +honest face, "this man an' his wife live in the next room. He was out +last evenin', but she was in, an' she heard poor Martin ravin' about +you an' his eight dollars, an' his wife, an' sister, an' children, an' +starvation, death, an' the cold dark street. She heered him, I say, but +didn't suspec' there was p'ison in the case until the doctor called her +in, an' then it was too late." + +"But how did you know of all this? What have you to do with it?" + +"You see the doctor went an' told the JUDGE, who has just been tryin' +you,--told him hours ago, you mind,--an' THE JUDGE sent me here with +you, in order to show you some of yer work. How d'ye like it Isr'el?" + +Ninety-One's features were harsh and scarred, but now they quivered +with an almost child-like emotion. With his brawny hand he pointed to +the bodies of the dead,-- + +"Thar's eight dollars worth o' yer notes, Isr'el," he said. "Thar's +Chow Bank, Muddy Run, an' Tarrapin Holler! Look at 'em! Don't you think +that some day God Almighty will ax you to change them notes?" + +And Israel shrank back appalled from the bed. Ninety-One clutched his +wrist with a firmer grasp; the eleven gathered closely in his rear, +their ominous murmur growing more distinct; and the light, held in the +convict's hand, shed its calm rays over the faces of the dead family. + +This death-scene in the artist's home, calls up certain thoughts. + +Poverty! Did you ever think of the full meaning of that word? The +curse of poverty is the cowardice which it breeds, cowardice of body +and soul. Many a man who would in full possession of his faculties, +pour out his life-blood for a friend, or even for a stranger, will, +when it becomes a contest for a crust of bread,--for the last means +of a bare subsistence,--steal that crust from the very lips of his +starving friend, and would, were it possible, drain the last life-drop +in the veins of another, in order to keep life in his own wretched +carcass. The savage, starving in the snow, in the center of his +desolate prairie, knows nothing of the poverty of the civilized savage, +much less of that poverty, which takes the man or woman of refined +education, and kills every noble faculty of the soul, before it does +its last work on the body. Poverty in the city, is not mere want of +bread, but it is the lack of the means to supply innumerable wants, +created by civilization,--and that lack is slow moral and physical +death. Talk of the bravery of the hero, who, on the battle-field stands +up to be shot at, with the chance of glory, on the one hand, and a +quick death on the other! How will his heroism compare with that brave +man, who in the large city, year after year, and day by day, expends +the very life-strings of his soul, in battling against the fangs of +want, in keeping some roof-shelter over his wife and children, or those +who are as dependent upon him as wife and children? Proud lady, sitting +on your sofa, in your luxurious parlor, you regard with a quiet sneer, +that paragraph in the paper (you hold it in your hand), which tells +how a virtuous girl, sold her person into the grasp of wealthy lust +for--bread! You sneer,--virtue, refined education, beauty, innocence, +chastity, all gone to the devil for a--bit of bread! Sneer on! but +were you to try the experiment of living two days without--not your +carriage and opera-box,--but without bread or fire in the dead of +winter, working meanwhile at your needle, with half-frozen fingers for +just sixteen pennies per day, you would, I am afraid, think differently +of the matter. Instead of two days, read two years, and let your trial +be one of perpetual work and want, that never for a moment cease to +bite,--I am afraid, beautiful one, were this your case, you would +sometimes find yourself thinking of a comfortable life, and a bed of +down, purchased by the sale of your body, and the damnation of your +soul. And you, friend, now from the quiet of some country village, +railing bravely against southern slavery, and finding no word bitter +enough to express your hatred of the slave market, in which black men +and black women are sold--just look a moment from the window of your +quiet home, and behold yonder huge building, blazing out upon the +night from its hundred windows. That is a factory. Yes. Have you no +pity for the white men, (nearer to you in equality of organization +certainly than black men,) who are chained in hopeless slavery, to the +iron wheels of yonder factory's machinery? Have you no thought of the +white woman, (lovelier to look upon certainly than black women, and +in color, in organization, in education resembling very much your own +wife, sister, mother,) who very often are driven by want, from yonder +factory to the grave, or to the--brothels of New York? You mourn over +black children, sold at the slave block,--have you no tear for white +children, who in yonder factory, are deprived of education, converted +into mere working machines (without one tithe of the food and comfort +of the black slave), and transformed into precocious old men and women, +before they have ever felt one free pulse of childhood? + +Ah! this enterprise which forms the impulse and the motto of modern +civilization, will doubtless in the future ripen into good for all +men,--for there is a God,--but the path of its present progress, is +littered with human skulls. It weaves, it spins, it builds, it spreads +forth on all sides its iron arms,--and it has a good capital,--the +blood of human hearts. Labor-saving machinery, (the most awful +feature of modern civilization,) will, in the future, when no longer +monopolized by the few, do the greater portion of the physical work +of the world, and bless the entire race of man,--but until that +future arrives, labor-saving machinery will send more millions down +to death, than any three centuries of battle-fields, that ever cursed +the earth. Yes, modern civilization, is very much like the locomotive, +rolling along an iron track, at sixty miles per hour, with hot coals +at its heart, and a cloud of smoke and flame above it. Look at it, as +it thunders on! What a magnificent impersonation of power; of brute +force chained by the mind of man! All true,--but woe, woe to the weak +or helpless, who linger on its iron track! and woe to the weak, the +crippled, or the poor, whom the locomotive of modern civilization finds +lingering _in its way_. Why should it care? It has no heart. Its work +is to move onward, and to cut down all, whom poverty and misfortune +have left in its path. + +There is one phase of poverty which hath no parallel in its unspeakable +bitterness. A man of genius with a good heart, and something of the +all-overarching spirit of Christ in him, looks around the world, sees +the vast sum of human misery, and feels like this, '_With but a moderate +portion of money, what good might not be accomplished!_' and yet that +little sum is as much beyond him,--as far beyond his grasp, as the +planet Jupiter. + +That forth from the womb of the present chaos, a nobler era will be +born, no one can doubt, who feels the force of these four words, +'_there is a God_.' And that the present age with its deification of +the money power, is one of the basest the world ever saw, cannot be +disproved, although it may be bitterly denied. There is something +pitiful in the thought that a world once deemed worthy of the tread of +Satan, is now become the crawling ground of Mammon. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MARY, CARL, CORNELIUS. + + +Leaving Frank to writhe alone in her agony, Nameless and Mary pursued +their way through the dark streets, as the morning drew near. They +arrived at length, in front of that huge mansion, in Greenwich street, +which once the palace of ease and opulence, was now, from the garret to +the cellar, the palace of rags, disease and poverty. How Mary's heart +thrilled as she led Nameless through the darkness up the marble stairs! +A few hours since she went down those stairs, with death in her heart. +Now her husband, risen from the grave was on her arm, hope was in her +heart, and--although dark and bitter cold, and signs of poverty and +wretchedness were all around her,--the future opened before her mental +vision, rosy and golden in its hues of promise. + +At the head of the stairway, on the fourth story Mary opened a door, +and in the darkness, led Nameless across the threshold. + +"My home!" she whispered, and lighted the candle, which hours ago, in +the moment of her deepest despair, she had extinguished. + +As the light stole around the place, Nameless at a glance beheld the +miserable garret, with its sloping roof walls of rough boards, and +scanty furniture, a mattress in one corner, a sheet-iron stove, a +table, and in the recess of the huge garret window an old arm-chair. + +"This your home!" he ejaculated and at the same time beheld the +occupant of the arm-chair,--in that man prematurely old, his skeleton +form incased in a loose wrapper, his emaciated hands resting on +the arms, and one side of his corpse-like face on the back of the +chair,--he after a long pause, recognized the wreck of his master, +Cornelius Berman. + +"O, my master!" he cried in a tone of inexpressible emotion, and +sank on his knees before the sleeping man, and pressed his emaciated +hand reverently to his lips. "Is it thus I find you!" and profoundly +affected, he remained kneeling there, his gaze fixed upon that +countenance, which despite its premature wrinkles, and dead apathetic +expression, still bore upon its forehead,--half hid by snow-white +hair,--some traces of the intellect of Cornelius Berman. + +While Nameless knelt there in silence, Mary glided from the room, and +after some minutes, again appeared, holding a basket on one arm, while +the other held some sticks of wood. Leaving her husband in his reverie, +at her father's feet, she built a fire in the sheet-iron stove, and +began to prepare the first meal which she had tasted in the course +of twenty hours. Continued excitement had kept her up thus far, but +her brain began to grow dizzy and her hand to tremble. At length the +white cloth was spread on the table, and the rich fragrance of coffee +stole through the atmosphere of the dismal garret. The banquet was +spread, bread, butter, two cups of coffee,--a sorry sort of banquet +say you,--but just for once, try the experiment of twenty-four hours, +without food, and you'll change your opinion. + +The first faint gleam of the winter morning began to steal through the +garret window. + +"Come, Carl,"--she glided softly to his side, and tapped him gently on +the shoulder, "breakfast is ready. While father sleeps, just come and +see what a good housekeeper I am." + +He looked up and beheld her smiling, although there were tears in her +eyes. + +He rose and took his seat beside her at the table. Now the garret +was rude and lonely, and the banquet by no means luxurious, and yet +Nameless could not help being profoundly agitated, as he took his seat +by the side of Mary. + +It was the first time, in all his memory, that he had sat down to a +table, encircled by the sanctity which clusters round the word--_Home_. + +His wife was by his side,--this was his--_Home_. + +Breakfast over, he once more knelt at the feet of the sleeping man. +And Mary knelt by his side, gazing silently into his face, while his +gaze was riveted upon her father's countenance. Thus they were, as the +morning light grew brighter on the window-pane. At length Mary rested +her head upon his bosom, and slept,--he girdled her form in his cloak, +and held her in his arms, while her bosom, heaving gently with the calm +pulsation of slumber, was close against his heart. The morning light +grew brighter on the window-pane, and touched the white hairs of the +father, and shone upon the glowing cheek of the sleeping girl. + +Nameless, wide awake, his eyes large and full, and glittering with +thought, gazed now upon the face of his old master, and now upon +the countenance of his young wife. And then his whole life rose up +before him. He was lost in a maze of absorbing thought. His friendless +childhood, the day when Cornelius first met him, his student life, +in the studies of the artist, the pleasant home of the artist on +the river, the hour when he had reddened his hand with blood, his +trial, sentence, the day of execution, the burial, the life in the +mad-house,--these scenes and memories passed before him, with living +shapes and hues and voices. And after all, Mary, his wife was in his +arms! The sun now came up, and his first ray shone rosily over the +cheeks of the sleeping girl. + +Nameless remembered the letter which Frank had given him, and now took +it from the side pocket of his coat. He surveyed it attentively. It +bore his name, "GULIAN VAN HUYDEN." + +"What does it contain?" he asked himself the question mentally, little +dreaming of the fatal burden which the letter bore. + +The sleeping man awoke, and gazed around the apartment with large, +lack-luster eyes. At the same time, with his emaciated hand, he tried +to clutch the sunbeam which trembled over his shoulder. Nameless felt +his heart leap to his throat at the sight of this pitiful wreck of +genius. + +"Do you not know me, master?" exclaimed Nameless, pressing the hand of +the afflicted man, and fixing his gaze earnestly upon his face. + +Was it an idle fancy? Nameless thought he saw something like a ray of +intelligence flit across that stricken face. + +"It is I, Carl Raphael, your pupil, your son!" + +As though the sound of that voice had penetrated even the sealed +consciousness of hopeless idiocy, the aged artist slightly inclined his +head, and there was a strange tremulousness in his glance. + +"Carl Raphael, your son!" repeated Nameless, and clutched the hands of +the artist. + +Again that tremulousness in the glance of the artist, and then,--as +though a film had fallen from his eyes,--his gaze was firm, and bright, +and clear. It was like the restoration of a blind man to sight. His +gaze traversed the room, and at length rested on the face of Nameless. + +"Carl!" he cried, like one, who, awaking from a troubled dream, finds, +unexpectedly, by his bed a familiar and beloved face--"Carl, my son!" + +Mary heard that voice; it roused her from her slumber. Starting up, she +pressed her father's hands. + +"O, Carl, Carl, he knows you! Thank God! thank God!" + +"Mary," said the father, gazing upon her earnestly, like one who tries +to separate the reality of his waking hours from the images of a past +dream. + +First upon one face, then upon the other, he turned his gaze, +meanwhile, in an absent manner, joining the hand of Mary and the hand +of Carl. + +"Carl! Mary!" he repeated the names in a low voice, and laid his hands +gently on their heads.--"I thought I had lost you, my children. Carl +and Mary," he repeated their names again,--"Carl and Mary! God bless +you, my children; and now----" he surveyed them with his large, bright +eyes, "and now I must sleep." + +His head fell gently forward on his breast, and he fell asleep to +wake no more in this world. His mind had made its last effort in the +recognition of Mary and Nameless. For a moment it flashed brightly in +its socket, and then went out forever. He was dead. Nay, not dead, but +he was,--to use that inexpressibly touching thought, in which the very +soul and hope of Christianity is embodied,--"_asleep in Christ_." + +When Mary raised his head from his breast, his eyes were vailed in the +glassy film of death. Leaning upon the arm which never yet failed to +support the weary head and the tired heart, gazing upon the face which +always looks its ineffable consolation, into the face of the dying, +Cornelius had passed away as calmly as a child sinking to sleep upon a +mother's faithful breast. + +Mary and Nameless, on their knees before the corse, clasped those +death-chilled hands, and wept in silence. + +And the winter sun, shining bright upon the window-pane, fell upon +their bowed heads, and upon the tranquil face of the dead father, +around whose lips a smile was playing, as though some word of "good +cheer" had been whispered to him, by angel-tongues, in the moment ere +he passed away. + +And thou art dead, brave artist, and life's battle with thee is +over,--the eyes that used to look so manfully upon every phase of +sorrow and adversity, are all cold and lusterless now,--the heart that +generous emotions filled and lofty conceptions warmed, sleeps pulseless +in the lifeless bosom. Thou art dead!--dead in the dreary home of Want, +with cold winter light upon thy gray hairs. Dead! Ah, no,--not dead, +for there is a PRESENCE in the dismal garret, invisible to external +eyes, which puts Death to shame, and upon the gates of the grave +writes, in letters of undying light:--_In all the universe of God there +is no such thing as death, but simply a transition from one life, or +state of life, to another._ Not dead, brave artist. Thou hast not, in +a long life, cherished affections, gathered experience from the bitter +tree of adversity, and developed, in storm as well as sunshine, thy +clear, beautiful intellect, merely to bury them all in the dull grave +at last. No,--thou hast borne affections, experience, and intellect, to +the genial sunshine of the better land. The coffin-lid of this life has +been lifted from thy soul,--thou art risen, indeed,--at last, in truth, +THOU LIVEST! + +And the PRESENCE which fills thy dark chamber now, although often +mocked by the gross interpretations of a brutal theology, often hid +from the world by the Gehenna smoke of conflicting creeds, is a living +Presence, always living, always loving, always bringing the baptism of +consolation to the way-worn children of this life, even as it did in +the hour when, embodied in a human form, face to face and eye to eye, +it spoke to man. + +The sun is high in the wintery heavens, and his light, streaming +through the window-pane, falls upon the mattress, whereon, covered +reverently, by the white sheet, the corse is laid. Mary is crouching +there, one hand supporting her forehead, the other resting upon the +open book, which is placed upon her knee. Thus all day long she watches +by the dead. At last the flush of evening is upon the winter sky. + +Nameless, standing by the window, tears open the letter of Frank, and +reads it by the wintery light. The three hours have passed. + +Why does his face change color, as he reads? The look of grief which +his countenance wears is succeeded by one of utter horror. + +"The poison vial!" he ejaculates, and places the fatal letter in Mary's +hand. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A LOOK INTO THE RED BOOK. + + +Madam Resimer was waiting in the little room up-stairs,--waiting and +watching in that most secret chamber of her mansion,--her cheek resting +on her hand, her eyes fixed upon the drawer from which the Red Book had +been stolen. The day was bright without, but in the closed apartment, +the Madam watched by the light of a candle, which was burning fast +to the socket. The Madam had not slept. Her eyes were restless and +feverish. Her cheeks, instead of their usual florid hues, were marked +with alternate spots of white and red. Sitting in the arm-chair, (which +her capacious form, clad in the chintz wrapper, filled to overflowing), +the Madam beats the carpet nervously with her foot, and then her small +black eyes assume a wicked, a vixenish look. + +Daylight is bright upon the city and river; ten o'clock is near,--the +hour at which Dermoyne intended to return,--and yet the Madam has no +word of the bullies whom last night she set upon Dermoyne's track. Near +ten o'clock, and no news of Dirk, Slung-Shot, or--the Red Book! + +"Why _don't_ they come!" exclaimed the Madam, for the fiftieth time, +and she beat the carpet wickedly with her foot. + +And from the shadows of the apartment, a voice, most lugubrious in its +tone, uttered the solitary word,--"_Why?_" + +"If they don't come, what shall we do?" the Madam's eyes grew wickeder, +and she began to "crack" the joints of her fingers. + +"_What?_" echoed the lugubrious voice. + +"I'll tell you what it is, Corkins," said the Madam, turning fiercely +in her chair, "I wish the devil had you,--I do! Sittin' there in your +chair, croakin' like a raven.--'What! Why!'" and she mimicked him +wickedly; "when you should be doin' somethin' to stave off the trouble +that's gatherin' round us. Now you know, that unless we get back the +Red Book, we're ruined,--you know it?" + +"Com-pletely ruined!" echoed Corkins, who sat in the background, on the +edge of a chair, his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands. +Corkins, you will remember, is a little, slender man, clad in black, +with a white cravat about his neck, a top-knot on his low forehead, a +"goatee" on his chin, and gold spectacles on his nose. And as Corkins +sits on the edge of his chair, he looks very much like a strange bird +on its perch,--a bird of evil omen, meditating all sorts of calamities +sure to happen to quite a number of people, at some time not definitely +ascertained. + +"It's near ten o'clock," glancing at the gold watch which lay on +the table before her, "and no word of Barnhurst, not even a hint of +Dirk or Slung! And at ten, that villain who stole the book will come +back,--that is, unless Dirk and Slung have taken care of him! I never +was in such a fever in all my life! Corkins, what _is_ to be done? And +your patient,--how is she?" + +"As for the patient up-stairs," Corkins began, but the words died away +on his lips. + +The sound of a bell rang clearly, although gloomily throughout the +mansion. + +"Go to the front door,--quick!"--in her impatience the Madam bounded +from her chair. "See who's there. Open the door, but don't undo the +chain; and don't,--do you hear?--don't let anybody in until you hear +from me! Quick, I say!" + +"But it isn't the front door bell," hesitated Corkins. + +Again the sound of the bell was heard. + +"It's the bell of the secret passage," ejaculated Madam, changing +color,--"the passage which leads to a back street, and of the existence +of which, only four persons in the world know anything. There it goes +again! who can it be?" + +The Madam was evidently very much perplexed. Corkins, who had risen +from his perch, stood as though rooted to the floor; and the bell +pealed loud and louder, in dismal echoes throughout the mansion. + +"Who can it be?" again asked the Madam, while a thousand vague +suspicions floated through her brain. + +"Who can it be?" echoed Corkins, shaking like a dry leaf in the wind. + +Here let us leave them awhile in their perplexity, while we retrace +our steps, and take up again the adventures of Barnhurst and Dermoyne. +We left them in the dimly-lighted bed-chamber, at the moment when the +faithful wife, awaking from her slumber, welcomed the return of her +husband in these words,--"Husband! have you come at last? I have waited +for you so long!" + +"Husband!" said the wife, awaking from her sleep, and stretching forth +her arms, "have you come at last? I have waited for you so long!" + +"Dearest, I was detained by an unexpected circumstance," answered +Barnhurst, and first turning to Dermoyne with an imploring gesture, +he approached the bed, and kissed his wife and sleeping child. Then +back to Dermoyne again with a stealthy step,--"Take your revenge!" he +whispered; "advance, and tell everything to my wife." + +Dermoyne's face showed the contest of opposing emotions; now clouded +with a hatred as remorseless as death, now touched with something +like pity. At a rapid glance he surveyed the face of the trembling +culprit,--the boy sleeping on his couch,--the mother resting on the +bed, with her babe upon her bent arm,--and then uttered in a whisper, a +single word,--"Come!" + +He led Barnhurst over the threshold, out upon the landing, and +carefully closed the door of the bed-chamber. + +"Now, sir," he whispered, fixing his stern gaze upon Barnhurst's face, +which was lighted by the rays of the lamp in the hall below,--"what +have you to propose?" + +Barnhurst's _blonde_ visage was corpse-like in its pallor. + +"Nothing," he said, folding his arms with the air of a man who has lost +all hope, and made up his mind to the worst. "I am in your power." + +Dermoyne, with this finger to his lip, remained for a moment buried +in profound thought. Once his eyes, glancing sidelong, rested upon +Barnhurst with a sort of ferocious glare. When he spoke again, it was +in these words:-- + +"Enter your bed-chamber, and sleep beside your faithful wife, +and,--think of Alice. As for myself, I will watch for the morning, +on the sofa, down stairs. Enter, I say!" he pointed sternly to the +door,--"and remember! at morning we take up our march again. I _know_ +that you will not escape from me,--and as for your wife, if you do not +wish her to see me, you will make your appearance at an early hour." + +Barnhurst, without a word, glided silently into the bed-chamber, +closing the door after him. Dermoyne, listening for a moment, heard the +voices of the husband and the wife, mingling in conversation. Then he +went quietly down stairs, took down the hanging-lamp, and with it in +his hand, entered a room on the lower floor. + +It was a neatly-furnished apartment with a sofa, a piano, and a +portrait of Barnhurst on the wall. The remains of a wood-fire were +smouldering on the hearth. Near the piano stood an empty cradle. It +was very much like--home. It was, in a word, the room through whose +curtained windows, we gazed in our brief episode, and saw the pure wife +with her children, awaiting the return of the husband and father. + +Dermoyne lit a candle, which stood on a table, near the sofa, and then +replaced the hanging lamp. This done, he came into the quiet parlor +again,--without once pausing to notice that the front door was ajar. +Had he but remarked this little fact, he might have saved himself a +world of trouble. He flung his cloak upon the table, and placed his cap +and the iron bar beside it. Then seating himself on the sofa, he drew +the Red Book from under his left arm, where for hours he had securely +carried it,--and spread it forth upon his knees. Drawing the light +nearer to him, he began to examine the contents of that massive volume. +How his countenance underwent all changes of expression, as page after +page was disclosed to his gaze! At first his lip curled, and his brow +grew dark,--there was doubtless much to move contempt and hatred in +those pages,--but as he read on, his large gray eyes, dilating in their +sockets, shone with steady light; every lineament of his countenance, +manifested profound, absorbing interest. + +The Red Book! + +Of all the singular volumes, ever seen, this certainly was one of the +most singular. It comprised perchance, one thousand manuscript pages, +written by at least a hundred hands. There were original letters, +and copies of letters; some of them traced by the tremulous hand of +the dying. There were histories and fragments of histories,--the +darkest record of the criminal court is not so black, as many a +history comprised within the compass of this volume. It contained +the history, sometimes complete sometimes in fragmentary shape, of +all who had ever sought the aid of Madam Resimer, or,--suffered +beneath her hands. And there were letters there, and histories there, +which the Madam had evidently gathered, with a view of extorting +money from certain persons, who had never passed into the circle of +her infernal influence. All the crimes that can spring from unholy +marriages, from violation of the marriage vow, from the seduction of +innocent maidenhood, from the conflict between poor chastity and rich +temptation, stood out upon those pages, in forms of terrible life. +That book was a revelation of the civilization of a large city,--a +glittering mask with a death's head behind it,--a living body chained +to a leperous corpse. Instead of being called the Red Book, it should +have been called the Black Book, or the Death Book, or the Mysteries of +the Social World. + +How the aristocracy of the money power was set forth in those pages! +That aristocracy which the French know as the "Bourgeoise," which the +English style the "Middle Classes," and which the Devil knows for his +"own,"--the name of whose god the Savior pronounced, when he uttered +the word "Mammon,"--whose loftiest aspiration is embodied in the word +"Respectable!" How this modern aristocracy of the money power, stood +out in naked life, showy and mean, glittering and heartless, upon +the pages of the Red Book! Stood out in colors, painted, not by an +enemy, but by its own hand, the mark of its baseness stamped upon its +forehead, by its own peculiar seal. + +One history was there, which, written in different hands, in an +especial manner, riveted the interest of Arthur Dermoyne. Bending +forward, with the light of the candle upon his brow, he read it page by +page, his face manifesting every contrast of emotion as he read. For +a title it bore a single name, written in a delicate womanly +hand,--"MARION MERLIN." The greater portion of the history was written +in the same hand. + +Leaning upon the shoulder of Arthur Dermoyne, let us, with him, read +this sad, dark history. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MARION MERLIN. + + +At the age of eighteen I was betrothed to Walter Howard, a young man of +polished manners, elegant exterior, and connected with one of the first +families of New York. I was beautiful, so the world said,--eighteen and +an heiress. My father was one of the wealthiest merchants of New York, +with a princely mansion in town, and as princely a mansion, for summer +residence, in the country. I had lost my mother, at an age so early, +that I can but dimly remember her pallid face. At eighteen, I was my +father's only and idolized child. + +Returning from boarding-school, where, apart from the busy world, I +had passed four years of a life, which afterward was to be marked by +deeds so singular, yes, unnatural, I was invested by my father, with +the keys of his city mansion, and installed as its mistress. Still kept +apart from the world,--for my father guarded me from its wiles and +temptations, with an eye of sleepless jealousy,--I was left to form +ideas of my future life, from the fancies of my day-dreams, or from +what knowledge I had gleaned from books. Walter was my father's head +clerk. In that capacity he often visited our mansion. To see him was +to love him. His form was graceful, and yet manly; his complexion a +rich bronze; his eyes dark, penetrating and melancholy. As for myself, +a picture which, amid all my changing fortunes, I have preserved as +a relic of happy and innocent days, shows a girl of eighteen, with a +form that may well be called voluptuous, and a face, (shaded by masses +of raven hair,) which, with its clear bronzed complexion, large hazel +eyes, and arching brows, tells the story of my descent on my mother's +side,--she was a West-Indian, and there is Spanish blood in my veins. +My acquaintance with Walter, ripened into warm and passionate love, and +one day, my father surprised me, as I hung upon my lover's breast, and +instead of chiding us, said with a look of unmistakable affection: + +"Right, Walter. You have won my daughter's love. When you return from +the West Indies, you shall be married; and once married, instead of my +head clerk, you shall be my partner." + +My father was a venerable man, with a kindly face and snow-white +hair: as he spoke the tears ran down his cheeks, for (as I afterward +ascertained,) my marriage with Walter, the orphan of one of the dearest +friends of his boyhood, had been the most treasured hope of his life +for years. + +Walter left for Havana, intrusted with an important and secret +commission from my father. He was to be absent only a month. Why was +it, on the day of his departure, as he strained me to his breast and +covered my face with his passionate kisses, that a deep presentiment +chilled my blood? O had he never left my side, what a world of agony, +of despair,--yes of crime,--would have been spared to me! + +"Be true to me, Marion!" these were his last words,--"in a month I will +return--" + +"True to you! can you doubt it Walter? True until death,--" and we +parted. + +I was once more alone, in my father's splendid mansion. One evening +he came home, but not with his usual kindly smile. He was pale +and troubled, and seemed to avoid my gaze. Without entering the +sitting-room, he went at once to his library, and locked himself in, +having first directed the servant to call him, in case a Mr. Issachar +Burley inquired for him. It was after eight when Mr. Burley called, and +was shown into the parlor, while the servant went to announce him to my +father. + +"Miss Marion, I believe!" he said, as he beheld me by the light of +the astral-lamp,--and then a singular look passed over his face; a +look which at that time I could not define, but which afterward was +made terribly clear to me. This Mr. Burley, who thus for the first +time entered my father's house, was by no means prepossessing in his +exterior. Over fifty years of age, corpulent in form, bald-headed, his +florid face bore the undeniable traces of a life, exhausted in sensual +indulgences. + +While I was taking a survey of this singular visitor, the servant +entered the parlor,-- + +"Mr. Burley will please walk up into the library," he said. + +"Good night, dear," said Mr. Burley with a bow, and a gesture that +had as much of insolence as of politeness in it,--"By-by,--we'll meet +again." + +He went up stairs, and my father and he, were closeted together for at +least two hours. At ten o'clock I was sent for. I entered the library, +trembling, I know not why; and found my father and Mr. Burley, seated +on opposite sides of a table overspread with papers,--a hanging lamp, +suspended over the table, gave light to the scene. My father was deadly +pale. + +"Sit down, Marion," he said, in a voice so broken and changed, that I +would not have recognized it, had I not seen his face,--"Mr. Burley has +something to say to you." + +"Mr. Burley!" I ejaculated,--"What can he have to say to me?" + +"Speak to her,--speak," said my father,--"speak, for I cannot,--" and +resting his hands on the table, his head dropped on his breast. + +"Sit down, my dear," exclaimed Burley, in a tone of easy +familiarity,--"I have a little matter of business with your father. +There's no use of mincing words. Your father, my dear, is a ruined man." + +I sank into a chair, and my father's groan confirmed Burley's words. + +"Hopelessly involved," continued Mr. Burley,--"Unless he can raise +three hundred thousand dollars by to-morrow noon, he is a _dishonored_ +man. Do you hear me, my dear? Dishonored!" + +"Dishonored!" groaned my father burying his head in his hands. + +"And more than this," continued Burley, "Your father, among his many +mercantile speculations, has dabbled a little,--yes more than a +little,--in the African slave-trade. He has relations with certain +gentlemen at Havana, which once known to our government, would consign +him to the convict's cell." + +The words of the man filled me with indignation, and with horror. Half +fainting as I was, I felt the blood boil in my veins. + +"Father, rebuke the liar,"--I said as I placed my hand on his +shoulder.--"Raise your face, and tell him that he is the coiner of a +falsehood, as atrocious as it is foolish--" + +My father did not reply. + +"And more than this,"--Burley went on, as though he had not heard +me,--"I have it in my power, either to relieve your father from his +financial embarrassments, or,--" he paused and surveyed me from head to +foot, "or to denounce him to the government as one guilty, of something +which it calls _piracy_,--to wit, an intimate relationship with the +African slave trade." + +Again my father groaned, but did not raise his face. + +The full truth burst upon me. My father was ruined, and in this man's +power. Confused,--half maddened, I flung myself upon my knees, and +clasped Burley by the hands. + +"O, you will not ruin my father," I shrieked.--"You will save him." + +Burley took my hands within his own, and bent down, until I felt his +breath upon my cheeks-- + +"Yes, I will save him," he whispered,--"That is, for a price,--your +hand, my dear." + +His look could not be mistaken. At the same moment, my father raised +his face from his hands,--it was pallid, distorted, stamped with +despair. + +"It is the only way, Marion," he said in a broken voice,--"Otherwise +your father must rot in a felon's cell." + +Amid all the misfortunes of a varied and changeful life, the agony of +that moment has never once been forgotten. I felt the blood rush to my +head-- + +"Be it so," I cried,--and fell like a dead woman on the floor, at the +feet of Mr. Issachar Burley. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +NIAGARA. + + +The next day we were married. In the dusk of the evening four figures +stood in the spacious parlor of my father's mansion, by the light of a +single waxen-candle. There was the clergyman, gazing in dumb surprise +upon the parties to this ill-assorted marriage, there was my father, +his countenance vacant almost to imbecility,--for the blow had stricken +his intellect--there was the bridegroom, his countenance glowing with +sensual triumph; and there the bride, pale as the bridal-dress which +enveloped her form, about to be sacrificed on the altar of an unholy +marriage. We were married, and between the parlor and the bridal +chamber, one hope remained. Rather than submit to the embrace of the +unworthy sensualist, I had determined to die, even upon the threshold +of the bridal chamber. I had provided myself with a poniard. But alas! +a glass of wine, drugged by my husband's hand, benumbed my reason, and +when morning light broke upon me again, I found myself in his arms. + +The history of the next three months may be rapidly told, for they were +months of agony and shame. + +"I have directed Walter by letter, to proceed from Havana to the +city of Mexico," said my father to me, the second day after the +marriage--"He will not return for six months, and certainly until his +return, shall not hear of this,--this,--marriage." + +My father's mind was broken, and from that hour, he surrendered himself +to Issachar's control. Burley took charge of his business, made our +house his home,--he was my father's master and mine. The course which +he pursued to blunt my feelings, and deaden every faculty of my better +nature, by rousing all that was sensual within me, was worthy of him. +He gave parties at our home, to the profligate of both sexes, selected +from a certain class of the so-called "fashionables," of New York. +Revels, prolonged from midnight until dawn, disturbed the quiet of +our mansion; and in the wine-cup, and amid the excitement of those +fashionable, but unholy orgies, I soon learned to forget the pure hopes +of my maidenhood. + +Three months passed, and no word of Walter; my father, meanwhile, was +sinking deeper every day into hopeless imbecility. At length, the early +part of summer, my husband gathered together a party of his fashionable +friends, and we departed on a tour to Niagara Falls, up the lakes, and +then along the St. Lawrence, and to Montreal. At Niagara Falls we put +up at the ---- Hotel, and the orgies which had disgraced my father's +mansion, were again resumed. My father we had left at home, in charge +of a well-tried and faithful servant. One summer evening, tired of the +scenes which took place in our parlors, at the hotel, I put on a bonnet +and vail, and alone pursued my way, across the bridge to Iris Island, +and from Iris to Luna Island. The night was beautiful; from a clear sky +the moon shone over the falls; and the roar of waters, alone disturbed +the silence of the scene. Crossing the narrow bridge which separates +Iris Island from Luna Island, I took my way through the deep shadows +of the thicket, until I emerged in the moonlight, upon the verge of +the falls. Leaning against a small beech tree, which stands there, +I clasped my hands upon my bosom, and wept. That scene, full of the +grandeur and purity of nature, awoke the memory of my pure and happier +days. + +"One plunge and all is over!" the thought flashed over me,--and I +measured with a rapid glance, the distance between myself and the brink +of the cataract. But at this moment I discovered that I was not alone +upon Luna Island. A stranger was leaning against a tree, which was +nearer to the brink of the falls than the one against which I leaned. +His face was in profile, the lower part of it covered with a thick +moustache and beard; and his gaze was lifted absently to the moonlight +sky. As I dropped my vail over my face, and gazed at him freely, myself +unperceived, I felt my limbs bend beneath me, and the blood rush in a +torrent to my head. + +I had only strength to frame one word--"Walter!" and fell fainting on +his breast. + +When I recovered my consciousness, I found myself resting in his arms, +while he covered my face with burning kisses. + +"You here, Marion!" he cried. "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure!" + +He had not heard of my marriage! + +"I am here, with some friends," I faltered. "My father could not come +with me--and--" + +Between the kisses which he planted upon the lips of his betrothed--(so +he thought)--he explained his unexpected appearance at Niagara. At +Havana he had received the letter from my father, desiring him to +hasten, on important business, to the city of Mexico. He had obeyed, +and accomplished his mission sooner than he anticipated; had left Vera +Cruz for New Orleans; taken steamboat for Cincinnati, and from thence +to Cleveland, and across the lake to Buffalo and Niagara Falls. + +"And now I'm on my way home, Marion," he concluded. "What a pleasant +surprise it will be for father!" + +"I am married, Walter."--The words were on my lips, but I could not +speak them. + +We rose, and, arm in arm, wandered over the bridge, up the steep, and +through the winding walks of Goat Island. Leaning on the arm of Walter, +I forgot everything but that he loved me and that he was with me. I +did not dare to think that to-morrow's light would disclose to him the +truth--that I was married, and to another. At length, as we approached +the bridge which leads from the Island to the shore, I said--"Leave me +Walter; we must not be seen to return together. To-morrow you can call +upon me, when I am in presence of my--friends." + +One passionate embrace was exchanged, and I watched him, as he crossed +the bridge alone, until he was out of sight. Why, I knew not, but an +impulse for which I could not account, induced me to retrace my steps +to Luna Island. In a few moments I had crossed the bridge (connecting +Iris with Luna Island,) and stood once more on the Cataract's brink, +under the same tree where an hour before I had discovered Walter. Oh, +the agony of that moment, as, gazing over the falls, I called up my +whole life, my blighted prospect, and my future without one ray of +hope! Should I advance, but a single step, and bury my shame and my +sorrows beneath the cataract? Once dead, Walter would at least respect +my memory, while living he could only despise and abhor me. + +While thoughts like these flashed over my brain, my ear was saluted +with the chorus of a drinking song, hummed in an uneven and tremulous +voice; and, in a moment my husband passed before me, with an unsteady +step. He was confused and excited by the fumes of champagne. +Approaching the verge of the island--but a few feet from the verge of +the cataract--where the waters look smooth and glassy, as they are +about to take the last plunge, he stood gazing, now at the torrent, now +at the moon, with a vague, half-drunken stare. + +That moment decided my life! + +His attitude, the cataract so near, my own lost and hopeless condition, +all rushed upon me. Vailing my face, I darted forward and uttered a +shriek. Startled by the unexpected sound, he turned, lost his balance, +and fell backward into the torrent. But, as he fell, he clutched a +branch which overhung the water. Thus, scarcely two yards from the +brink, he struggled madly for his life, his face upturned to the moon. +I advanced and uncovered my face. He knew me, for the shock had sobered +him. + +"Marion, save me, save me!" he cried. + +I gazed upon him without a word, my arms folded on my breast, and saw +him struggle, and heard the branch snap, and--heard his death-howl, +as he was swept over the falls. Then, pale as death, and shuddering +as with mortal cold, I dragged my steps from the Island, over the +bridge--shrieking madly for help. Soon, I heard footsteps and voices. +"Help! help!" I shrieked, as I was surrounded by a group of faces, men +and women. "My husband! my husband! the falls!" and sank, fainting, in +their midst. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A SECOND MARRIAGE. + + +Morning came, and no suspicion attached to me. A murderess--if not in +deed, in thought, certainly--I was looked upon as the inconsolable +widow. Walter left Niagara without seeing me. How did he regard me? +I could not tell. The death of Burley broke up our traveling party, +and we returned to New York. I returned in time to attend my father's +funeral; and found myself the heiress, in my own right, of three +hundred thousand dollars. An heiress and a widow, certainly life began +to brighten! Burley removed, the incubus which sat upon my father's +wealth was gone; and I was beautiful, and free, and rich--immensely +rich. + +But where was Walter? Months passed, and I did not see him. As he was +the head clerk of my father, I hoped to see him, in company with legal +gentlemen, engaged to close up my father's estate. But he settled his +accounts, closed all connection with my father's estate and business, +but did not come near me. At length, weary of suspense, and heart-sick +of the loneliness of my desolate mansion, I wrote to him, begging an +interview. + +He called in the dusk of the evening, when a single candle lighted up +the spacious and gloomy parlor. He was dressed in deep mourning, and +very pale. + +"_Madam_, you wished to see me," he began. + +This cold and formal manner cut me to the heart. + +"Walter!" I cried, and flung myself upon his breast, and passionately, +but in broken accents, told him how my father's anticipated ruin had +forced me to marry Burley. + +Walter was melted. "Marion, I love you, and always shall love you, +but--but--" + +He paused. In an agony of suspense I hung upon his words. + +"But--" + +"But you are so rich, and I--I--am poor!" + +I drowned all further words with kisses, and in a moment we were +betrothed again. + +We were married. Walter was the master of my fortune, my person and my +future. We lived happily together, content with each other's society, +and seeking, in the endearments of a pure marriage, to blot out the +memory of an unholy one. My husband, truly my husband, was all that +I could desire; and by me, he became the possessor of a princely +revenue, free to gratify his taste for all that is beautiful in the +arts, in painting and sculpture, without hinderance or control. +Devoted to me, always kind, eager to gratify my slightest wish, Walter +was all that I could desire. We lived to ourselves, and forgot the +miserable mockery called "the fashionable world," into which Burley +had introduced me. Thus a year passed away, and present happiness +banished the memory of a gloomy past. After a year, Walter began to +have important engagements, on pressing business, in Philadelphia, +Boston, Baltimore and Washington. His absence was death to me; but, +having full confidence in him, and aware that his business must be of +vital importance, or assuredly he would not leave me, I saw him depart, +time and again, with grief too deep for words, and always hailed his +return--the very echo of his step with a joy as deep. On one occasion, +when he left me, for a day, on a business visit to Philadelphia, I +determined--I scarcely knew why--to follow him, and greet him, on his +arrival in Philadelphia, with the unexpected but welcome surprise of +my presence. Clothing myself in black--black velvet bonnet, and black +velvet mantilla, and with a dark vail over my face--I followed him to +the ferry-boat, crossed to Jersey City, and took my seat near him in +the cars. We arrived in Philadelphia late at night. To my surprise he +did not put up at one of the prominent hotels, but bent his way to an +obscure and distant part of the city. I followed him to a remote part +of Kensington, and saw him knock at the door of an isolated two-story +house. After a pause, it was opened, and he entered. I waited from +the hour of twelve until three, but he did not re-appear. Sadly and +with heavy steps I bent my way to the city, and took lodgings at a +respectable but third-rate tavern, representing myself as a widow +from the interior, and taking great care to conceal my face from the +gaze of the landlord and servants. Next morning it was my first care +to procure a male dress,--it matters not how, or with what caution +and trouble,--and, tying it up in a compact bundle, I made my way to +the open country and entered a wood. It was the first of autumn, and +already the leaves were tinted with rainbow dyes. In the thickest +part of the wood I disposed of my female attire, and assumed the +male dress--blue frock, buttoned to the throat, dark pantaloons, +and gaiter boots. My dark hair I arranged beneath a glazed cap with +military buttons. Cutting a switch I twirled it jauntily in my hand, +and, anxious to test my disguise, entered a wayside cottage--near the +Second Street Road--and asked for a glass of water. While the back of +the tenant of the cottage--an aged woman--was turned, I gazed in the +looking-glass, and beheld myself, to all appearance, a young man of +medium stature, with brown complexion of exceeding richness, lips of +cherry red, arched brows, eyes of unusual brilliancy, and black hair, +arranged in a glossy mass beneath a glazed cap. It was the image of a +handsome boy of nineteen, with no down on the lip and no beard on the +chin. Satisfied with my disguise, and with a half-formed idea floating +through my brain, I bent my steps to the isolated house, which I had +seen my husband enter the night before. I knocked; the door was opened +by a young girl, plainly clad, but of surpassing beauty--evidently not +more than sixteen years old. A sunny complexion, blue eyes, masses of +glossy brown hair, combined with an expression which mingled voluptuous +warmth with stainless innocence. Such was her face. As to her form, +although not so tall as mine, it mingled the graceful outlines of the +maiden with the ripeness of the woman. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A SECOND MURDER. + + +She gazed upon me with surprise. Obeying a sudden impulse, I +said--"Excuse me, Miss, but I promised to meet _him_ here. You know," +with a polite bow and smile, "you know whom I mean?" + +"Mr. Barton--" she hesitated. + +"Exactly so; Mr. Barton, my intimate friend, who has confided _all_ to +me, and who desired me to meet him here at this hour." + +"My mother is not at home," hesitated the young girl, "and, in her +absence, I do not like to--" + +"Receive strangers, you were about to add? Well, Miss, I am not a +stranger. As the intimate friend of Mr. Barton, who especially desired +me to meet him here--" + +These words seemed to resolve all her doubts. She motioned me to enter, +and we passed into a small room, neatly furnished, with the light +which came through the curtained windows, shining upon a picture,--the +portrait of Walter Howard, my husband. + +"Capital likeness of Barton," I said, carelessly tapping my switch +against my boot. + +"Yes,--yes," she replied as she took a seat at the opposite end of the +sofa,--"but not so handsome." + +In the course of two hours, in which with a maddened pulse and heaving +breast, I waited for the appearance of my husband, I learned from the +young girl the following facts:--She was a poor girl, and her mother, +with whom she lived, a widow in very moderate circumstances. Her name +was Ada Bulmer. Mr. Lawrence Barton (this, of course, was the assumed +name of my husband,) was a wealthy gentleman of a noble heart,--he +had saved her life in a railroad accident, some months before. He had +been unhappy, however, in marriage; was now divorced from a wicked and +unfaithful woman; and,--here was the climax,--"and next week we are to +be married, and mother, Lawrence, and myself will proceed to Europe +directly after our marriage." + +This was Ada's story, which I heard with emotions that can scarcely +be imagined. Every word planted a hell in my heart. At length, toward +nightfall, a knock was heard, and Ada hastened to the door. Presently I +heard my husband's step in the entry, and then his voice,-- + +"Dearest,----" there was the sound of a kiss,--"I have got rid of that +infamous woman, who killed her first husband, and have turned all my +property into ready money. On Monday we start for Europe." + +He entered, and as he entered I glided behind the door. Thus his back +was toward me, while his face was toward Ada, and his arms about her +waist. + +"On Monday, dearest, we will be married, and then----" + +I was white with rage, but calm as death. Drawing the poniard, (which I +had never parted with since I first procured it,) I advanced and struck +him, once, twice, thrice, in the back. He never beheld me, but fell +upon Ada's breast, bathed in blood. She uttered a shriek, but laying my +hand upon her shoulder, I said, sternly,-- + +"Not a word! this villain seduced _my only sister_, as he would have +seduced you!" + +I tore him from her arms, and laid him on the sofa; he was speechless; +the blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils, but by his glance, I saw +that he knew me. Ada, white as a shroud, tottered toward him. + +"Seducer of my sister, have we met at last?" I said aloud,--and then +bending my face to his, and my bosom close to his breast, I whispered,-- + +"The _wicked woman_ who killed her first husband, gives you this,"--and +in my rage buried the poniard in his heart. + +Ada fell fainting to the floor, and I hurried from the house. It was a +dark night, enlivened only by the rays of the stars, but I gained the +wood, washed the blood from my hands, and resumed my female attire. In +less than an hour, I reached the depot at Kensington, entered the cars, +and before twelve, crossed the threshold of my own home in New York. + +How I passed the night,--with what emotions of agony, remorse, +jealousy,--matters not. And for three days afterward, as I awaited for +the developments, I was many times near raving madness. The account +of my husband's death filled the papers; and it was supposed that he +had been killed by some unknown man, in revenge, for the seduction +of a sister. My wild demeanor was attributed to natural grief at his +untimely end. + +On the fourth day I had his body brought on from Philadelphia; and on +the fifth, celebrated his funeral, following his corpse to the family +vault, draped in widow's weeds, and blinded with tears of grief, or +of--despair. Ada Bulmer I never saw again, but believe she died within +a year of consumption or a broken heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MARION AND HERMAN BARNHURST. + + +Alone in my mansion, secluded from the world, I passed many months +in harrowing meditations on the past. Oftentimes I saw the face of +Walter dabbled in blood, and both awake and in my dreams, I saw, O, +how vividly his _last look_! I was still rich, (although Walter, as +I discovered, after his death, had recklessly squandered more than +one-half of my fortune,) but what mattered riches to one devoured +like myself by an ever-gnawing remorse? What might I have been had +not Burley forced me into that unholy marriage? This question was +never out of my mind for a long year, during which I wore the weeds of +widowhood, and kept almost entirely within the limits of my mansion. + +Toward the close of the year an incident occurred which had an +important bearing on my fate. Near my home stood a church, in which +a young and eloquent preacher held forth to the admiration of a +fashionable congregation, every Sabbath-day. On one occasion I occupied +a seat near the pulpit, and was much struck by his youthful appearance, +combined with eloquence so touching and enthusiastic. His eagle +eye, shone from his pallid face, with all the fire of an earnest, a +heartfelt sincerity. I was struck by the entire manner of the man, and +more than once in his sermon he seemed to address me in especial, for +our eyes met, as though there was a mutual magnetism in our gaze. When +I returned home I could not banish his face nor his accents from my +memory; I felt myself devoured by opposing emotions; remorse for the +past, mingled with a sensation of interest in the youthful preacher. +At length, after much thought, I sent him this note by the hands of a +servant in livery:-- + + REVEREND SIR,-- + + A lady who heard your eloquent sermon on "_Conscience_," on Sabbath + last, desires to ask your advice in a matter touching the peace of + her soul. She resides at No. ----, and will be glad to receive you + to-morrow evening. + + M. H. + +This singular note was dispatched, and the servant directed to inform +the Rev. Herman Barnhurst of my full name. As the appointed hour drew +nigh, I felt nervous and restless. Will he come? Shall I unbosom myself +to him, and obtain at least a portion of mental peace by confessing the +deeds and thoughts which rest so heavy on my soul? At last dusk came; +two candles stood lighted on the mantle of the front parlor, and seated +on the sofa I nervously awaited the coming of the preacher. + +"I will confess all!" I thought, and raising my eyes, surveyed myself +in the mirror which hung opposite. The past year, with all its sorrow, +had rather added to, than detracted from, my personal appearance. My +form was more matured and womanly. And the sorrow which I had endured +had given a grave earnestness to my look, which, in the eyes of some, +would have been more winning than the glance of voluptuous languor. +Dressed in deep black, my bust covered to the throat, and my hair +gathered plainly aside from my face, I looked the grave, serious--and, +I may add, without vanity--the beautiful widow. The Rev. Herman +Barnhurst was announced at last,--how I trembled as I heard his step in +the hall! He entered, and greeting him with an extended hand, I thanked +him warmly for calling in answer to my informal note, and motioned him +to a chair. There was surprise and constraint in his manner, but he +never once took his eyes from my face. He stammered and even blushed as +he spoke to me. + +"You spoke, madam, of a case of conscience," he began. + +"A case of conscience about which I wished to speak to you." + +"Surely," he said, fixing his gaze earnestly upon me, and his words +seemed to be forced from him, even against his will,--"surely one so +beautiful and so good cannot have anything like sin upon her soul----" + +Our gaze met, and from that moment we talked of everything but the +case of conscience. All his restraint vanished. His eye flashed, his +voice rolled deep and full; he was eloquent, and he was at home. We +seemed to have been acquainted for years. We talked of history, poetry, +the beautiful in nature, the wonderful in art; and we talked without +effort, as though our minds mingled together, without even the aid of +voice and eyes. Time sped noiselessly,--it was twelve o'clock before we +thought it nine. He rose to go. + +"I shall do myself the pleasure to call again," he said, and his voice +faltered. + +I extended my hand; his hand met it in a gentle pressure. That touch +decided our fate. As though my very being and his had rushed together +and melted into one, in that slight pressure of hand to hand, we stood +silent and confused,--one feeling in our gaze,--blushing and pale by +turns. + +"Woman," he said, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "you will drive +me mad," and sank half-fainting on his knees. + +I bent down and drew him to my breast, and covered his forehead with +kisses. Pale, half-fainting, he lay almost helpless in my arms. + +"Not mad, Herman," I whispered, "but I will be your good angel; I will +cheer you in your mission of good. I will watch over you as you ascend, +step by step, the difficult steep of fame; and Herman, I will love you." + +It was the first time that young brow had trembled to a woman's kiss. + +"Nay,--nay,--tempt me not," he murmured, and unwound my arms from his +neck, and staggered to the door. + +But as he reached the threshold, he turned,--our gaze met,--he rushed +forward with outspread arms,-- + +"I love you!" he cried, and his face was buried on my bosom. + + * * * * * + +From that hour the Rev. Herman Barnhurst was the constant visitor at my +house. He lived in my presence. His sermons, formerly lofty and somber +in their enthusiasm, became colored with a passionate warmth. I felt +a strange interest in the beautiful boy; a feeling compounded of pure +love; of passion; of voluptuousness, the most intense and refined. + +"O, Marion, do you not think that if I act aright in all other +respects, that this _one sin_ will be forgiven me?" said Herman, as one +Sabbath evening, after the service was over, we sat, side by side, in +my house. It was in a quiet room, the curtains drawn, a light shining +in front of a mirror, and a couch dimly seen through the shadows of an +alcove. + +"One sin? what mean you, Herman?" + +"The sin of loving you,"--and he blushed as his earnest gaze met mine. + +"And is it a sin to love me?" I answered in a low voice, suffering my +hand to rest upon his forehead. + +"Yes," he stammered,--"to love you thus unlawfully." + +"Why unlawfully?" + +He buried his head on my breast, as he replied,--"I love you as a +husband, and I am not your husband." + +"And why--" I exclaimed, seizing him in my arms, and gently raising his +head, so that our gaze met,--"and why can you not be my husband? I am +rich; you have genius. My wealth,--enough for us both,--shall be linked +with your genius, and both shall the more firmly cement our love. Say, +Herman, why can you not be my husband?" + +He turned pale, and avoided my gaze. + +"You are ashamed of me,--ashamed, because I have given you the last +proof which a woman can give to the man she loves." + +"Ashamed! O, no, no,--by all that is sacred, no,--but Marion----" + +And bending nearer to me, in faltering accents, he whispered the secret +to my ears. He was betrothed to Fanny Lansdale, the daughter of the +wealthiest and most influential member of his congregation. He had +been betrothed long before he met me. To Mr. Lansdale, the father, he +owed all that he had acquired in life, both in position and fame. That +gentleman had taken him when a friendless orphan boy, had educated him, +and after his ordination, had obtained for him the pastoral charge of +his large and wealthy congregation. Thus, he was bound to the father by +every tie of gratitude; to the daughter by an engagement that he could +not break, without ingratitude and disgrace. My heart died within me +at this revelation. At once I saw that Herman could never be lawfully +mine. Between him and myself stood Fanny Lansdale, and every tie of +gratitude, and every emotion of self-respect and honor. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +MARION AND FANNY. + + +Not long after this interview, I saw Fanny Lansdale at church; made +the acquaintance of her father--a grave citizen, who regarded me as a +sincere devotee--and induced Fanny to become a frequent visitor at my +house. She confided all to me. She loved Herman devotedly, and looked +forward to their marriage as the most certain event in the world. She +was a very pretty child, with clear blue eyes, luxuriant hair, and a +look of bewitching archness. I do not step aside from the truth, when +I state that I sincerely loved her; although it is also true, that I +never suffered myself to think of her marriage with Herman as anything +but an impossible dream. An incident took place one summer evening, +about a year after Herman's first visit to my house, which, slight +as it was, it is just as well to relate. It is such slight incidents +which often decide the fate of a lifetime, and strike down the barrier +between innocence and crime. + +I was sitting on the sofa at the back window of the parlor, and Fanny +sat on the stool at my feet. The light of the setting sun shone over my +shoulders, and lighted up her face, as her clasped hands rested on my +knees, and her happy, guileless look, was centered on my countenance. +As I gazed upon that innocent face, full of youth and hope, I was +reminded of my own early days; and at the memory, a tear rolled down my +cheek. + +"Yes, you shall marry Herman," the thought flashed over my mind; "and I +will aid you, Fanny; yes, I will resign Herman to you." + +At this moment Herman entered noiselessly, and took his place by my +shoulder; and, without a word, gazed first into my face and then into +the face of Fanny. Oh, that look! It was never forgotten. It was +fate. For it said, as plainly as a soul, speaking through eyes, can +say--"Thou, Marion, art my mistress, the companion of my illicit and +sensual love; but thou, Fanny, art my wife, the pure partner of my +lawful love!" + +After that look, Herman bade us good evening! in a tone of evident +agitation, and hurried from the room. + +From that hour, Herman avoided me. Weeks passed, and he was not seen +at my house. At church he never seemed to be conscious of my presence; +and, the service over, hurried at once from the place, without a single +glance or sign of recognition. At length, Fanny's visits became less +frequent; and, when she did come to see me, her manner manifested a +conflict of confidence and suspicion. That this wounded me--that the +absence of Herman cut me to the soul--may easily be imagined. I passed +my time between alternations of hope and despair; now listening, and +in vain, for the echo of Herman's step--and now bathed in unavailing +tears. Conscious that my passion for Herman was the last link that +bound me to purity--to life itself--I did not give up the hope of +seeing him at my feet, as in former days, until months had elapsed. +Finally, grown desperate, and anxious to avoid the sting of wounded +love, the perpetual presence of harrowing memories, I sought the +society of that class of fashionables, to whom my first husband, +Issachar Burley, had introduced me. I kept open house for them. Revels, +from midnight until dawn, in which men and women of the first class +mingled, served for a time to banish reflection, and sap, tie by tie, +every thread of hope which held me to a purer state of life. The kennel +has its orgies, and the hovel, in which ignorance and squalor join in +their uncouth debauch; but the orgie of the parlor, in which beauty, +intellect, fashion and refinement are mingled, far surpasses, in +unutterable vulgarity, the lowest orgie of the kennel. Amid the uproar +of scenes like these, news reached me that the Rev. Herman Barnhurst +and Miss Fanny Lansdale were shortly to be united in marriage. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +AN UNUTTERABLE CRIME. + + +One evening I was sitting alone, in the back parlor, near a table on +which stood a lighted candle and a wine-glass, (for I now at times +began to seek oblivion in wine,) when Gerald Dudley was announced. +Gerald was one of my fashionable friends, over forty in years, tall +in stature, with a florid face, short curling brown hair, and sandy +whiskers. He was a _roué_, and a gambler, and--save the mark--one of +the first fashionables of New York. He entered, dressed in a showy +style; blue coat, red velvet vest, plaid pants, brimstone-colored +gloves, and a profusion of rings and other jewelry--a style indicative +of the man. Seating himself on the sofa, he began chatting in his easy +way about passing events of fashionable life, and of the world at large. + +"By-the-bye, the popular preacher, young Barnhurst, is to be +married; and to such a love of a girl--daughter of old Lansdale, the +_millionaire_. Lucky fellow! Do you know that I've often noticed her at +church--a perfect _Hebe_--and followed her home, once or twice, and +that I shouldn't mind marrying her myself if I could get a chance!" + +And he laughed a laugh which showed his white teeth. "Bah! But that's +it--I can't get a chance." + +Perhaps I blushed at the mention of this marriage; but he immediately +continued:-- + +"_On dit_, my pretty widow, that this girl, Lansdale, has cut you out. +Barnhurst once was sadly taken with you; so I've heard. How is it? All +talk, I suppose?" + +I felt myself growing pale, although the blood was boiling in my +veins. But before I could reply, there was a ring at the front door, +followed by the sound of a hasty footstep, and the next moment, to my +utter surprise, Fanny Lansdale rushed into the room. Without seeming +to notice the presence of Dudley, she rushed forward, and fell on her +knees before me, her bonnet hanging on her neck, her hair floating +about her face, and that face bathed in blushes and tears. + +"Oh, Marion! Marion!" she gasped,--"some slanderer has told father +a story about you and Herman,--a vile, wicked story,--which you can +refute, and which I am sure you will! For--for--" + +She fell fainting on my knee. The violence of her emotions, for the +time, deprived her of all appearance of life. Her head was on my lap; +one hand sought mine, and was joined to it in a convulsive clasp. + +Oh, who shall say that those crimes which make the world shudder but +to hear told, are the result of long and skillful planning, of careful +and intricate scheming? No, no; the worst crimes--those which it would +seem might make even the heart of a devil, contract with horror--are +not the result of long and deliberate purpose, but of the temptation of +a moment--of the fatal opportunity! + +As her head rested on my lap, a voice whispered in my ear: + +"Your rival! Retire for a few moments, in search of hartshorn, or some +such restorative, and leave the fainting one in my care." + +I raised my head and caught the eye of Gerald Dudley. Only a single +look, and the fiend was in my heart. I rose; the fainting girl fell +upon the floor; I hurried from the room, and did not pause until I had +reached my own chamber, and locked the door. Pressing my hands now +on my burning temples, now on my breast, I paced the floor, while, +perchance, fifteen minutes--they seemed an eternity--passed away. + +Then I went slowly down stairs, and entered the back parlor. Gerald +was there, standing near the sofa; his face wearing an insolent scowl +of triumph. The girl was stretched upon the sofa, still insensible, +but--I dare not write it--opposite Gerald stood Herman Barnhurst, who +had followed Fanny to the house, and arrived--too late. His face was +bloodless. + +"Oh, villain!" he groaned, as his maddened gaze was fixed on Dudley; +"you shall pay for this with your blood--" + +"Softly, Reverend Sir! softly! One word of this, and the world shall +know of your amours with the handsome widow." + +Herman's gaze rested on my face-- + +"You,--know--of--this?" he began, with a look that can never be +forgotten. + +"Pardon, Herman, pardon! I was mad," I shrieked, flinging myself at his +feet, and clutching his knees. + +For a moment he gazed upon me, and then, lifting his clenched right +hand, he struck me on the forehead, and I fell insensible on the floor. +The curse, which he spoke as I fell, rings even yet in my ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +SUICIDE. + + +Three days have passed since then. Such days as I will never pass +again! I have just learned that Gerald Dudley has fled the city. His +purpose to obtain Fanny's hand in marriage by first accomplishing her +shame, has utterly failed. Her father knows all and is now using every +engine of his wealth to connect my name with the crime which has damned +every hope of his idolized child. And he will succeed! I feel it; I +know it; my presentiment cannot prove false. What shall I do?--whither +turn? + +And Herman is a raving lunatic. This too is my work. Yes, yes, I am +resolved.--I _am_ resolved. * * * * + +To-morrow's dawn will bring disgrace and shame to me; and, in the +future, I see the crowded court-house--the mob, eager to drink in the +story of my guilt,--and the felon's cell. But the morrow's dawn I +shall never see! + +I am alone in my chamber--the very chamber in which I became Burley's, +in an unholy marriage--Walter's, in the marriage of a stainless +love--Herman's, in the mad embrace of passion. And now, O Death! upon +that marriage couch, I am about to wed thee! + +The brazier stands in the center of the bridal chamber; its contents +were ignited half an hour ago; every avenue to my chamber is carefully +closed; already the fumes of the burning charcoal begin to smite my +temples and my heart. + +This record, written from time to time, and now concluded by a hand +chilled by death, I leave to my only living relative,--not as an +apology for my crimes, but as an explanation of the causes which led me +to the brink of this awful abyss. + +Air! air! Burley, for thee I have no remorse. Let the branch +snap!--over the cataract with thy accursed face! Thou wert the cause of +all--thou! But, Walter, thy last look kills my soul.--Herman, thy curse +is on me! And poor Fanny! Air! Light! It is so dark--dark!--Oh for one +breath of prayer! + + + CONCLUSION. + + +The preceding confession, signed by the tremulous hand of the poor +suicide, was found in her room, with the senseless corse, by the +relative, to whom she addressed it, and who adds these concluding +pages. For days after the event, the papers were filled with +paragraphs, in regard to the melancholy affair. A single one extracted +from a prominent paper, will give some idea of the tone of the public +mind: + + _Extract from a New York Paper._ + + "TRAGEDY IN HIGH LIFE. + + "The town is full of rumors, in regard to a mysterious event, or + series of events, implicating a member of one of the first families + of New York. These rumors are singularly startling, and although they + have not yet assumed a definite shape, certainly call for a judicial + investigation. As far as we have been able to sift the stories now + afloat, the plain truth, reduced to the briefest possible shape, + appears to be as follows: Some years since, Miss Marion M----, + daughter of old Mr. M----, one of our first merchants, was, while + under an engagement of marriage with Walter H----, forced into a + marriage with Mr. Issachar B----, a man old enough to be her father, + who, it is stated, had the father absolutely in his power. The + marriage took place, but not long afterward, B----, while on a visit + to Niagara, was precipitated over the Falls, at dead of night, in a + manner not yet satisfactorily explained. Soon afterward the young + widow, then immensely rich, encountered her former betrothed, and the + fashionable world were soon afterward informed of their marriage. + A year passed, and Walter H----, the husband of the former widow, + was found in a distant part of the country, mysteriously murdered, + it was not known by whom, although it was rumored at the time, that + the brother of a wronged sister, was on that occasion the avenger + of his sister's shame. The beautiful Mrs. H----, was once more a + widow. Here it might seem that her adventures, connected so strangely + with the death of two husbands, had reached their termination. But + it seems she was soon fascinated by the eloquence of a young man + and popular divine, Rev. H---- B----. While betrothed to Miss Fanny + L----, daughter of a wealthy member of his congregation, the eloquent + preacher became a visitor at the house of the rich widow, and finally + his affections became entangled, and he was forced to choose between + said widow and his betrothed. He sacrificed his affection for the + former, to his solemn engagement with the latter. The 'slighted' + widow, endured the usual pangs of 'despised love,' coupled with + something very much like Italian jealousy, or rather jealousy after + the Italian school. The betrothed was inveigled into a certain house, + and her honor sacrificed by a gentleman of fashion, known for thirty + years as a constant promenader, on the west side of Broadway, Mr. + Gerald D----. The widow (strangest freak of a slighted and vindictive + woman!) is said to have been the planner and instigator of this crime. + We have now arrived at the sequel of the story. Unable to obtain the + hand of the Rev. H---- B----, and stung by remorse, for her share in + the dishonor of his betrothed, the widow put a period to her own + existence, in what manner is not exactly known, although conflicting + rumors state the knife, or the poison vial was the instrument of her + death. No coroner's inquest took place. The body gave no signs of a + violent death. 'Disease of the heart' was stated in the certificate + of the physician, (how _compliant_ he was to the wishes of rich + survivors, we will not say,) as the cause of her unexpected disease. + She was quietly buried in the family vault, and her immense estate + descends to a relative, who was especially careful, in cloaking over + the fact of the suicide. The tragedy involved in this affair, will be + complete, when we inform the reader, that Mr. Gerald D----, has left + the city, while his poor victim, Fanny L----, tenants the cell of an + asylum for the insane. Altogether, this affair is one of the wildest + exaggerations, or one of the most painful tragedies, that ever fell to + the lot of the press, to record. Can it be believed that a young lady, + honorably reared, would put a period to the lives of two husbands, + then procure the dishonor of a rival, who interposed between her and a + _third_ 'husband?' Verily, 'fact is stranger than fiction,' and every + day, reality more improbable than the wildest dreams of romance. The + truth will not be known until the CONFESSION, _said to be left by the + young widow, makes its appearance._ But will it appear? we shall see." + +So much for the public press. + +The reader can contrast its _rumors_, with the _facts_ of the case, as +plainly set forth in the previous confession, penned by the hand of the +unfortunate and guilty Marion Merlin. + +A few words more will close this painful narrative. Marion was quietly +and honorably buried. Her relatives were wealthy and powerful. The +'physician's certificate' enabled them to avoid the painful formality +of a coroner's inquest. She sleeps beside her husband, Walter Howard, +in Greenwood Cemetery. + +Soon after her decease, Mr. Lansdale sold all his property in New York, +and with his daughter disappeared completely from public view. + +Herman Barnhurst remained in the Lunatic Asylum for more than a year, +when he was released, his intellect restored, but his health (it is +stated) irretrievably broken. After his release, he left New York, and +his name was soon forgotten, or if mentioned at all, only as that of a +person long since dead. + +Gerald Dudley, after various adventures, in Texas and Mexico, suffered +at the hands of Judge Lynch, near San Antonio. + +About a year after the death of Marion Merlin, a young man in moderate +circumstances, accompanied by his wife, (a pale, faded, though +interesting woman) and her aged father took up his residence in C----, +a pleasant village in south-western Pennsylvania. They were secluded in +their habits, and held but little intercourse with the other villagers. +The husband passed by the name of Wilton, which (for all that the +villagers knew to the contrary,) was his real name. + +One winter evening, as the family were gathered about the open +wood-fire, a sleigh halted at the door, and a visitor appeared in the +person of a middle-aged man, who came unbidden into the room, shaking +the snow from his great coat, and seating himself in the midst of the +family. Regarding for a moment the face of the aged father, and then +the countenance of the young husband and wife, which alike in their +pallor, seemed to bear the traces of an irrevocable calamity, the +visitor said quietly,-- + +"Herman Barnhurst, I am the relative to whom Marion Merlin addressed +her confession, and whom she invested with the trusteeship of her +estate." + +Had a thunderbolt fallen into the midst of the party, it would not have +created so much consternation, as these few words from the lips of the +visitor. The young wife shrieked, the old man started from his chair; +Herman Barnhurst, (otherwise called Mr. Wilton,) with the blood rushing +to his pale face, said simply, "That accursed woman!" + +"I hold her last Will and Testament in my hand," continued the visitor: +"I am her nearest relative, and would inherit her estate, but for this +will, by which she names _you and your wife Fanny, as the sole heirs of +her immense property_." + +Herman took the Will from the visitor's hands. + +"As administrator of her estate, I am here to surrender it into your +hands. The will was made as a small atonement for the injury she caused +you." + +Herman quietly dropped the parchment into the fire: + +"Her money and her memory are alike accursed. I will have nothing to do +with either." + +That night the relative turned his face eastward, to take possession of +the estate of Marion Merlin. + +_And beneath this, in a different hand, was added the following +singular narrative:_ + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF MARION. + + +A pleasant place, in summer time, was the country-mansion of the +celebrated Doctor N----, situated upon the heights of Weehawken, about +one mile from the Hudson River. A huge edifice of brick, separated +from the high road by a garden, it was surrounded by tall trees, whose +branches overhung its steep roof, and relieved by the background of the +rich foliage and blossoms of the orchard trees. A pleasant place, in +summer, was the mansion of the celebrated Doctor, but lonely enough, +and desolate enough in winter. On this drear winter night, it looks sad +and desolate as the grave. The sky above it is leaden, the trees around +it are leafless, the garden white with snow, and the bitter wind howls +dismally over the waste of snow, which clothes the adjacent fields. In +the distance, the Hudson glitters dimly, white and cold, with fields +of floating ice. It is near morning, and but a single room in the vast +country mansion is tenanted. You can see a light trembling faintly +through the half vailed window yonder; the window near the roof, in the +southern wing. + +It is near morning; but one person by a solitary light, keeps his vigil +in the deserted mansion; a sleigh drawn by a single horse, (he has been +driven hard, for there is foam upon his flanks) and moving noiselessly, +without the sound of bells stops at the garden gate. Two persons, whose +forms are wrapped in thick overcoats, and whose faces are concealed by +fur caps, drawn low over the brows, dismount and pass along the garden +walk, bearing a burden on their shoulders. They ascend the steps of the +porch, and stand in front of the hall door, looking anxiously about +them, as if to assure themselves, their movements were not observed. + +"So far safe enough,--" exclaims one in a hoarse voice, "the next thing +is to get _it_ up stairs." And he places a key in the lock of the door. + +Meanwhile the light, which trembling outward from yonder window, +shines redly over the frozen snow, shines within upon the face of +the lonely watcher. A young man sits beside a table, reading by the +light of a clouded lamp, his cheeks resting on his hands, and his +gaze riveted upon the large volume, spread open before him. The light +falls brightly upon the book, leaving his features in half twilight, +but still you can trace the outlines of his face,--the enthusiasm of +his fixed eyes,--the energy of his broad bold forehead. It is a small +and comfortable apartment; near him a wood-fire is burning, on the +open hearth; opposite him a sofa, and a range of shelves, filled with +books, and upon the green cloth of the table by which he is seated, you +discover a sort of semicircle of open volumes,--placed there evidently +for reference,--a mass of carelessly strewn manuscripts, and a case of +surgical instruments. + +Arthur Conroy, the favorite student of the celebrated Doctor,--a +student, whose organization combines the exactness and untiring +industry of the man of science, with the rich enthusiasm of the +poet,--is the only tenant of the mansion, during the dreary winter. He +is not seen during the day, but every night, arriving from New York, +after dark, he builds his fire, lights his candle, and commences his +lonely vigil. Sometimes, late at night, he is joined by the grave +Doctor himself, and they pursue their researches together. What manner +of researches? We cannot tell; but there is a rumor, that one apartment +of the huge mansion is used, in winter time, as a Dissecting-Room. +And the light streaming night after night, from the window near the +roof, strikes the lonely wayfarer with a sensation, in some manner, +associated with ghosts, witches, and dealings with the _devil_ in +general. + +Arthur is ambitious; even while his mind is wrapt in the mazes of a +scientific problem, he thinks of his widowed mother and orphan sisters +far away in the great village near Seneca lake, and his pulse beats +quicker, as he looks forward to the day when their ears shall be +greeted by the tidings of his world-wide fame. For he has determined to +be a surgeon, and a master in his art; he has the will and the genius; +he will accomplish what he wills. + +He raises his eyes from his book,--they are glittering with the clear +light of intense thought,--and unconsciously begins to think aloud. + +"Do the dead return? Are the dead indeed _dead_? You have nailed down +the coffin-lid; you have seen the coffin as it sunk into the grave; you +have heard the rattling of the clod,--but is that all? Is the beloved +one whom you have given to the grave, indeed _dead_, or only more truly +living in a new body, formed of refined matter, invisible to our gross +organs? Is that which we call soul, only the result of a particular +organization of gross matter, or is it the real, eternal substance of +which all other matter is but the servant and the expression? Do the +dead return? Do those whose faces we have seen for the last time, ere +the coffin-lid closed upon them forever, ever come back to us, clad in +spiritual bodies, and addressing us, not through our external organs, +but by directly _impressing_ that _divine substance_ in us, which is +like unto them,--that which we call our SOUL?" + +It was a thought which for ages has made the hearts of the noblest +and truest of our race, alternately combat with despair, and swell +with hope,--that thought which seeks to unvail the mystery of Life and +Death, disclose the tie which connects perishable matter with eternal +mind, and lift the curtain which hides from the present, the other +world. + +Arthur felt the vast thought gather all his soul into its embrace. But +his meditations were interrupted by the opening of the door, and the +two men,--whom we saw dismount from the sleigh,--entered the room of +the student, bearing in their arms the burden, which was covered by +folds of coarse canvas. + +Very ungainly men they were, with their brawny forms wrapped in huge +gray overcoats, adorned with white buttons, and their harsh visages +half concealed by their coarse fur caps. They came into the room +without a word. + +"O, you have come," said Arthur, as if he recognized persons by no +means strangers to him. "Have you the particular subject which the +doctor desired you to procure?" + +"Jist that partikler subject," said one of the twain,--"an' a devil of +a time we've had to git it! Fust we entered the vault at Greenwood, +with a false key, and then opened the coffin, so as it'll never be +known that it was opened at all. Closed the vault ag'in and got the +body over the wall, and hid it in the bottom of the sleigh. Crossed the +ferry at Brooklyn--went through the city, and then took the ferry for +Hoboken,--same sleigh, and same subject in the bottom of it; an' druv +here with a blast in our face, sharp as a dozen butcher knives." + +"But if it had not a-been for the storm, we wouldn't a-got the body," +interrupted the other. + +"And here we _air_, and here _it_ is, and that's enough. What shall we +do with it?" + +Arthur opened a small door near the bookcase, and a narrow stairway +(leading up into the garret) was disclosed. + +"You know the way," he said. "When you get up there place _it_ on the +table." + +They obeyed without a word. Bearing their burden slowly through the +narrow doorway, they disappeared, and the echo of their heavy boots was +heard on the stairway. They were not long absent. After a few moments +they again appeared, and the one who had acted as principal spokesman, +held out his open palm toward Arthur,-- + +"Double allowance to-night, you know," he said,--"Doctor generally +gives us from forty to sixty dollars a job, but this partikler case +axes for ten gold pieces,--spread eagles, you know, wuth ten dollars +apiece,--only a hundred dollars in all. Shell out!" + +Arthur quietly placed ten gold pieces in the hands of the +ruffian.--"The doctor left it for you. Now go." + +And shuffling their heavy boots, they disappeared through the same door +by which they had entered. Looking through the window after a few +moments, he saw the sleigh moving noiselessly down the public road. + +"Dangerous experiment for the doctor, especially if the _event_ of this +night should happen to be discovered," ejaculated Arthur, as he rebuilt +his fire. "A peculiar case of suicide, and he wished _the body_ at all +hazards. Well! I must to work." + +He drew on an apron of dark muslin, which was provided with sleeves, +and then lifting the shade from the lamp, he lighted a cigar. As the +smoke of the grateful Havana rolled through his apartment, he took the +lamp in one hand, and a case of instruments in the other, and ascended +the secret stairway leading to the garret. + +"I have seen her when living, arrayed in all the pride of youth +and beauty," he said, as the lamp shone upon the vast and gloomy +garret,--"and now let me look upon the shell which so lately held that +passionate soul." + +It was indeed a vast and gloomy garret. It traversed the entire +extent of the southern wing. The windows at either end were carefully +darkened. The ceiling was formed by the huge rafters and bare shingles +of the steep roof. To one of these rafters a human skeleton was +suspended, its white bones glaring amid the darkness. In the center was +a large table, upon which was placed the burden which the ruffians had +that night stolen from the grave. The place was silent, lonely,--the +wind howled dismally among the chimneys,--and Arthur could not repress +a slight shudder as his footsteps echoed from the naked floor. Arthur +placed the lamp upon the table, and began to uncover the subject. +Removing the coarse canvas he disclosed the corpse. An ejaculation +burst from his lips,--a cry half of terror, half of surprise. + +The light shone upon the body of a beautiful woman. From those +faultless limbs and that snowy bosom the grave-clothes had been +carefully stripped. A single fragment of the shroud fluttered around +the right arm. Save this fragment the body was completely bare, and +the dark hair of the dead fell loosely on her shoulders. The face was +very beautiful and calm, as though sealed only for an hour in a quiet +sleep,--the fringes of the eyelashes rested darkly upon the cheeks. +Never had the light shone upon a shape of more surpassing loveliness, +upon limbs more like ivory in their snowy whiteness, upon a face more +like a dreamless slumber, in its calm, beautiful expression. Dead, and +yet very beautiful! A proud soul dwelt in this casket once,--the soul +has fled, and now the casket must be surrendered to the scalpel,--must +be cut and rent, shred by shred, by the dissector's hand. + +"But the limbs are not rigid with death," soliloquized Arthur,--"Decay +has not yet commenced its work. As I live, there is a glow upon the +cheek." + +With his scalpel he inflicted a gash near the right temple, and at the +same instant--imagining he heard a footstep,--he turned his face over +his shoulder. It was only imagination, and he turned again to trace the +result of the incision. + +The dead woman was in a sitting posture, her eyes were wide open, she +was gazing calmly into his face. Arthur fell back with a cry of horror. + +"Nay, do not be frightened," said a low, although tremulous voice,--"I +have simply been the victim of an attack of catalepsy." + +And while he stood spell-bound, his eyes riveted to her face, and his +ears drinking in the rich music of her voice, she continued,-- + +"Catalepsy, which leaves the soul keenly conscious and in possession +of all its powers, but without the slightest control over the body, +which appears insensible and dead. The agony of that state is beyond +all power of words! To hear the voices which speak over your coffin, +and yet be unable to frame a word, to breathe even a sigh! I heard them +talk over my coffin,--I was conscious as the lid closed down upon my +face,--conscious when they placed me in the vault, and locked the door, +and left me there buried alive. And an eternity seemed to pass from the +time when they locked the door, (I was only buried yesterday,) until +your men came to-night, to rob the grave of its prey. I heard every +word they uttered from the moment when they tore the shroud from my +bosom, until they entered your room, and then I heard your voice. And +when they left me here, I heard your step upon the stair, heard your +ejaculation as you bent over me, and it seemed to me that my soul made +its last effort to arouse from this unutterable _living death_, as you +struck the knife into my temple. You have saved my life----" + +Arthur could not utter a word; he could not believe the scene to be +real; he thought himself the victim of a terrible although bewitching +dream. + +"I arise from the grave, but it is to begin life anew. The name which I +bore lies buried in the grave vault. It is with a new name, and under +new auspices, that I will recommence life. And as for you, I know you +to be young, gifted, ambitious. I will show my gratitude by making your +fortune. But you must swear, and now, never to reveal the secret of +this night!" + +"I swear it," ejaculated Arthur, still pale and trembling. + +"What, are you still afraid of me? Come near me,--nearer,--take my +hand,--does that,--" and a bewitching smile crossed her face,--"does +that feel like the hand of a dead woman?" + +With these words the history of Marion came to a pause. + + * * * * * + +For the first time, Arthur Dermoyne raised his eyes from the pages +which recorded the life of Marion Merlin. For an hour and more he had +bent over those pages in profound and absorbing interest. + +"Here, then, is the real secret of the life of Herman Barnhurst!" he +ejaculated. "He was simply a sincere enthusiast, all his bad nature +dormant, and all his good in active life, until this woman crossed his +path. And the wife who now slumbers by his side, is none other than +Fanny Lansdale, the victim of the unutterable crime. Who shall say +that we are not, in a great measure, the sport of circumstance? How +different would have been the life of Herman, had Marion never crossed +his path?" + +Something like pity for the crimes of Barnhurst began to steal over +Dermoyne's face, as he sat thus alone, in the solitude of the last +hour of the night; but the thoughts of Alice, on her bed of shame and +anguish, started up like a phantom and drove every throb of compassion +from his soul. + +"If Alice dies, there is but one way,"--he said moodily, with a fixed +light in his eyes.--"But this Marion,--ah! Something more of her +history is written here. Let me read,--" Once more he bent over the +Red Book. Even as his eyes were fixed upon the page, a shadow was cast +over it, and then a dark object interposed between him and the light; +and the next moment all was darkness. But on the instant, before the +darkness came, he looked up, and saw before him a brawny form, a face +stamped with ferocious brutality; an upraised hand grasping a knife, +which glittered as it rose. This he saw for an instant only, and then +all was blackness. + +"Not wid de knife, Dirk! Let me fix him wid dis,--and do yer see to de +Red Book!" + +There was a sound as of a weapon whizzing through the air, and Dermoyne +was felled to the floor by a blow from the "Slung-shot." + +As the first gleam of morning stole into the bed-chamber, touching, +with rosy light, the faces of the sleeping wife and her children, +Barnhurst stealthily arose, dressed himself, and stole on tiptoe +from the place. In the dark he descended the stairway, and all the +while,--from loss of sleep, combined with the excitement of the past +night,--he shook in every nerve. His thoughts were black and desperate. + +"Ruin wherever I turn! If I escape this man, there remains the villain +whom I met last night, in Trinity Church. On one side exposure, on the +other death. What can be done? Cut the matter short, and renouncing +all my prospects, seek safety in flight? or remain,--dare all the +chances,--exposure,--the death of a dog,--all,--and trust to my good +fortune?" + +He paused at the foot of the stairway, and a hope shot through his +heart,--"If I could see GODIVA all might yet be well! Yes, I must, I +will see GODIVA." + +Uttering the name of GODIVA, (new to the reader and to our history,) he +approached the parlor door. "Now for this man!" he said, and shuddered. +He opened the door, and looked around; the first rays of morning +were stealing through the window-curtains, but the room was vacant. +Dermoyne was not there. The carpet was torn near the sofa, the table +overturned, and there was blood upon the carpet and sofa. But Dermoyne +had disappeared. + + + + +PART SIXTH. + +DAY, SUNSET, NIGHT. + +DECEMBER 24, 1844. + + +CHAPTER I. + +ARRAYED FOR THE BRIDAL. + + +It was toward evening, when, amid the crowd of Broadway--that crowd +of mad and impetuous life--there glided, like a specter through the +mazes of a voluptuous dance, a man of sober habit, pallid face, and +downcast eyes. Beautiful women, wrapped in soft attire, passed him +every moment; brushed him with their perfumed garments; but he heeded +them not. There was the free laugh, the buzz of voices, and the tramp +of footsteps all about him, but he did not raise his eyes, nor bend +his ear. Gliding along in his dark habit, he was as much alone on that +thronged pathway, as though he walked the sands of an Arabian desert. A +man of hollow cheeks, features boldly marked, and eyes large and dark, +and shining with the fire of disease, or with the restlessness of a +soul that had turned upon itself, and was gnawing ever and ever at its +own life-strings. + +His habit--a long black coat, single breasted, and with a plain white +band about the neck--indicated that he was a Catholic Priest. + +He was a Priest. Struck down in his early manhood by an irreparable +calamity, he had looked all around the horizon of his life for--peace. +Repose, repose--a quiet life--an obscure grave--became the objects of +his soul's desire, instead of the ambitions which his young manhood had +cherished. + +As there was not peace within him, so he searched the world for it, and +in vain. + +He sought it in a money-bound Protestant church, behind whose +pulpit-bible--like a toad upon an altar--Mammon, holy mammon, squats +in bank-note grandeur. And there, he found money, and much cant, and +abundance of sect,--but no peace. + +To the Catholic church he turned. Won by the poetry of that church--we +use the word in its awful and intense sense, for poetry and religion +are one--and, forgetful of the infernal deeds which demoniacs, in +purple and scarlet, have done in the name of that church, tracking +their footsteps over half the globe in blood, and lighting up the +history of ten centuries, at least, with flames of persecution,--won by +all that is good and true in that church, (which he forgot is good and +true under whatsoever form it occurs,)--he sought repose in its bosom. + +Did he find it? He found good and true men among priests and people; he +found noble and pure women, in the valleys of the church; but, lifting +his eyes to her lofty eminence, he too often saw purpled and mitred +atheists, who, from their thrones, made sport of human misery, and +converted Christ the Savior into the _Fetish_ of a brutal superstition. + +He had been to Rome; in Rome he saw the seamless coat of Christ made a +cloak for every outrage that can be inflicted upon the human race. + +Did he find peace? Yes, when vailing his eyes from the atrocities done +in the name of the church, turning himself away from the scarlet-clad +atheists, who too often mount her seats of power, he retreated within +himself, opened the gospels, and from their pages saw kindle into life +and love, the face of Him, whom priests may misinterpret or defame, but +whose name forever to suffering humanity, is "CONSOLATION." + +As he passed thus along Broadway, buried in his thoughts, and utterly +unconscious of the scene around him, he felt a hand press his own. +He awoke from his thoughts, stopped and looked around him. The crowd +was hurrying by, but the person who pressed his hand had disappeared. +Was that pressure of the hand a mere freak of the imagination? No; +for the hand of the unknown had left within the hand of the Priest a +neatly-folded letter, upon which, in a fair and delicate hand, was +written his own name. + +Stepping aside from the crowd, he opened and read the letter. It was +very brief, but its contents called a glow to the pale cheek of the +Priest. + +He at once retraced his steps, and passed down Broadway, with a +rapid and eager step. Hurrying through the gay crowd, he turned, in +a few moments, into a street leading to the North River. The sun was +setting, and cast the shadow of his slender form long and black over +the pavement, as he paused in front of a stately mansion. He once more +examined the letter, and then surveyed the mansion. + +"It is the same," he said, and ascended the lofty steps and rang the +bell. "Truly, the office of a Priest is a painful one," the thought +crossed his mind; "he sees so much misery that he has not the power to +relieve. Misery, under the rags of the hovel, and despair under the +velvet of the palace." + +A male servant, in livery, answered the bell, and glanced somewhat +superciliously at the faded attire of the Priest. But he inclined his +head in involuntary respect, as the Priest said, simply-- + +"I am Father Luke,--" + +"This way, sir. You are expected," answered the servant; and he led +Father Luke along a lofty hall, and into a parlor, over whose rich +furniture shone dimly the light of the setting sun. "Remain here, sir, +and I will announce your coming." + +He left the Priest alone. Father Luke placed his hat upon a table, +and seated himself in a chair. In a moment, resting his cheek upon +his hand, and turning his eyes to the light, (which shone through +the curtained window,) he was buried in thought again. His singular +and remarkable face stood forth from the back-ground of shadow like +a portrait of another age. His crown was bald, but his forehead was +encircled by dark hair, streaked with silver. As the light shone over +that broad brow, and upon the great eyes, dilating in their sunken +sockets, he seemed not like a practical man of the nineteenth century, +but like one of those penitents or enthusiasts, who, in a dark age, +shut up the fires of their agony, of trampled hope or undying remorse, +within the shadows of a cloister. + +"This way, sir,"--it was the voice of the servant, who touched him +respectfully on the shoulder as he spoke. + +Father Luke arose and followed him from the room, and up a broad +stairway, and along a corridor: "At the end of this passage you will +find a door. Open it and enter. You are expected there." + +Passing from the corridor, lighted by the window at its extremity, the +Priest entered a narrow passage where all was dark, and pursued his way +until his progress was terminated by a door. He opened the door and +crossed the threshold--but, upon the very threshold, stood spell-bound +in surprise. + +It was a large apartment, with lofty walls, and, instead of the +cheerful rays of the declining sun, it was illuminated by a lamp with +a clouded shade, which, suspended from the center of the ceiling, shed +around a soft and mysterious light. + +The walls were not papered nor panneled, but covered with hangings +of a dark color. One part of the spacious chamber was occupied by a +couch with a high canopy, and curtains whose snowy whiteness stood out +distinctly from the dark back-ground. A wood fire was burning under the +arch of the old-fashioned fire-place; and a mirror, in a frame of dark +walnut, reflected the couch with its white canopy, and a table covered +with a white cloth, which stood directly underneath the hanging lamp. +Upon the white cloth was placed a crucifix, a book, a wreath of flowers. + +The place was perfectly still, and the soft rays of the lamp, investing +all its details with mingled light and shadow, gave an atmosphere of +mystery to the scene. + +Father Luke stood on the threshold, hesitating whether to advance or +retreat, when a low voice broke the stillness: + +"Come in, sir. I have waited for you." + +And for the first time Father Luke took notice of the presence of the +speaker. It was a woman, who, attired in black, sat in a rocking-chair, +near the table, her hands folded over her breast. Her head and +face were covered by a thick vail of white lace, which fell to her +shoulders, contrasting strongly with her somber attire. + +Father Luke entered and seated himself in a vacant chair, which stood +near the table. Resting his arm on the table,--(he sat directly beneath +the lamp, in a circle of shadow,)--and shading his eyes with his hand, +he silently surveyed the woman, over whom the light fell in full +radiance. There was dark hair, there were bright eyes, beneath that +vail of lace; a young, a richly moulded form, beneath that garb of +sable; but in vain he endeavored to trace the features of the unknown. + +"You received a letter?" said the lady, in a low voice. + +"As I was passing up Broadway, a few moments since, a letter was placed +in my hand, bidding my presence at this house, on an errand of life and +death." + +She started at the sound of that sonorous and hollow voice, and, +through her vail, seemed to survey him earnestly. + +"I am glad that you have come. I thank you with all my soul. Although +not a member of your church, I have heard of you for a long time, and +heard of you as one who, having suffered much himself, was especially +fitted to render consolation to the heart-broken and despair-stricken. +Now I am heart-broken and despairing,"--she paused,--"I am dying,--" + +"Dying?" he echoed. + +"And have sent for you, believing you to be an honest man, not to hear +confession of my sins, for they are too dark to be told or be forgiven. +But to ask you a simple question, which I implore you to answer, not +as a priest, but as a man;--to answer, not with the set phrases of +your vocation, but frankly and fully, even as you wish to have peace +yourself in the hour of death." + +"And that question,--" the priest's head bent low upon his breast, and +he surveyed her earnestly with his eyes hidden beneath his down-drawn +brows. + +"Do you believe in any Hereafter? Do you believe in another world? Does +the death of the body end the story? Or, after the death of the body, +does the soul rise and live again in a new and diviner life?" + +"My sister," said the priest, with much emotion, "I _know_ that there +is a hereafter,--I _know_ that the death of the body, is not the end of +all, but simply the first step in an eternal pilgrimage--" + +"This you say as a man, and not as a priest,--this is your true +thought, as you wish to have peace, in the hour of your death?" + +"Even so," said Father Luke. + +"Thank you, O, bless you with all my soul. One question more,--O, +answer me with the same frankness.--In the next world shall we meet, +and know the friends whom we have loved in this?" + +"We shall meet, we shall know, we shall love them in the next world, as +certainly as we ever met, knew and loved them in this," was the answer +of Father Luke, given with all the force and earnestness of undeniable +sincerity. "Do you think we gather affections to our heart, only to +bury them in the grave?" + +The lady rose from her chair,-- + +"I thank you, once more, and with all my soul. Your words come from +your heart. They confirm the intuitions of my own heart. For the +consolation which these words afford, accept the gratitude of a dying +woman. And now,--" she extended her hand, "and now farewell!" + +The priest, who, through this entire interview, had never ceased +to regard her, with his eyes almost hidden by his down-drawn +brows,--struggling all the while to repress an agitation which +increased every moment, and well nigh mastered him,--the priest also +rose with these words on his lips: + +"You dying, sister! you seem young, and full of life, and with the +prospect of long years before you." + +It was either the impulse of madness, or the force of a calm +conviction, which induced her to reply: + +"In one hour I will be dead." + +The priest silently took her offered hand, and at the same instant, +emerged from the circle of shadow, into the full glow of the light. +There was something like magic in the pressure of their hands. + +And the woman lifted her vail, disclosing a beautiful face, which +already touched with the pallor of death, was lighted by dark eyes, +whose brightness was almost supernatural. + +Lifting her gaze heaven-ward, she said, as though thinking aloud,-- + +"In another world, Ernest, I will meet, I will know, I will love you!" + +But ere the words had passed her lips,--yes, as the slowly lifted vail +disclosed her face,--the priest sank back, as though stricken by a blow +from an iron hand, uttering a wild and incoherent cry,--sank back as +though the grave had yielded up its dead, and confronted him with a +form, linked with holy and yet accursed memories. + +"O, Frank, is it thus we meet," he cried, and fell on his knees, and +buried his face in his hands. + +The sound of his voice, at once lifted the scales from her eyes,--she +knew him,--the vague consciousness of his presence, which had agitated +her for the past few moments, became certainty. She knew that in Father +Luke, who knelt before her, she beheld Ernest Walworth, her plighted +husband. Sad and terrible indeed, must have been the change, which had +fallen upon his countenance, that she did not know him, when he sat +before her in the shadow! + +Trembling in every nerve, and yet strong with the energy of a soul, +that had taken its farewell of this life, she gave utterance to her +feelings, in a single word,--his own,--pronounced in the soft low tones +of other days. + +"Ernest!" + +"O, Frank, Frank, is it thus we meet!" he cried in wild agony, as he +raised his face. "You,--you,--the only woman that I ever loved,--you, +whose very memory has torn my heart, since that fatal hour, when I met +you in the accursed haunt of death,--" + +"Ernest you will sit by me as I die, you will press your hand in +forgiveness on my forehead, my last look shall encounter yours--" + +She opened her dark robe, and disclosed the snow-white dress which she +wore beneath it. That dress was a shroud. Yes, the beautiful form, the +bosom which had once been the home of a pure and stainless love, and +which had beat with the throb of sensual passion, were now attired in a +shroud. + +"Behold me, attired for the grave," she said,--and the tears started +to her eyes,--"This morning, resolved to quit this life, which for +me, has been a life of unutterable shame and despair, I prepared +for my departure. Everything is ready. Come, Ernest, and behold the +preparations for my bridal,--" she pointed to the couch; he rose and +followed her. "I am in love with death, and will wed him ere an hour +is gone." She drew aside the curtains, and upon the white coverlet, +Ernest beheld a dark object,--a coffin covered with black cloth, and +glittering with a silver plate. + +"Everything is ready, Ernest, and I am going. Nay, do not weep, do not +attempt to touch my hand. I am but a poor polluted thing,--a wreck, a +miserable, miserable wreck! My touch would pollute you,--I am not worth +your tears." + +Ernest hid his face in the hangings of the couch,--he writhed in agony. + +"You shall not die,--you must be saved!" he wildly exclaimed. + +She walked across the floor, with an even step; in a moment she was +seated in the rocking-chair, with Ernest before her, his face hidden +in his hands. Her face grew paler every moment; her eyes brighter; and +the shroud which enveloped her bosom, began to quiver, with the last +pulsations of her dying heart. As the vail mingled its fleecy folds +with her raven hair, she looked very beautiful, yes, beautiful with the +touch of death. + +And as Ernest, choked with his agony, sat before her, hiding his face, +she talked in a calm, even tone,-- + +"O, life! life! you have been a bitter draught to me, and now I am +about to leave you! All day I have been thinking of my shame, of +my crimes,--I have summoned up every act of my life,--the images +of the past have walked before me in a sad funeral procession. O, +Thou, who didst forgive the Magdalene,--Thou who hadst compassion on +the poor wretch, whose cross arose beside thine own,--Thou who dost +know all my life, my temptations, and my crimes,--forgive! forgive! +It is a wandering child, sick of wandering, who now,--O, Thou, +all-merciful!--gathers up the wreck of a miserable life, and lays it, +with all its sins and shame, at Thy feet." + +As she uttered this simple, yet awful prayer, Ernest did not raise his +face. The agony which shook him was too deep for words. + +Her voice grew faint and fainter, as she went on, in a vague and +rambling way-- + +"And I was so innocent once, and did not know what sorrow was, and +felt such gladness, at the sight of the sky, of the stars, of the +flowers,--at the very breath of spring upon my cheek! O, I wonder if +the old home stands there yet,--and the nook in the forest, don't +you remember, Ernest? I was so happy, so happy then! And now I am +dying--dying,--but you are near. You forgive me, Ernest, do you not?" + +"Forgive you!" he echoed, raising his face, and spreading forth his +clasped hands, "God's blessing and His consolation be upon you now +and forever! And His curse,--" a look of hatred, which stamped every +lineament of his face, revealed the intensity of his soul,--"and His +curse be upon those, who brought you to this!" + +As he spoke, the death damps began to glisten on her forehead; a glassy +look began to vail the intense brightness of her eyes. + +"Your hand, sit by me,--" she said faintly, "I shall sleep soon." + +He drew his chair to her side, and softly put his hand upon her +forehead,--it was cold as marble. + +"It is good to go thus,--with Ernest by me,--and in token of +forgiveness too, with his hand upon my forehead--" + +Her words were interrupted by a footstep and a voice. + +"Frank! Frank! where are you! I have triumphed!--triumphed! The one +child is out of my way, and the other is in my power!" + +It was Colonel Tarleton, who rushed to the light, his face lividly +pale, and disfigured by wounds, his right arm carried in a sling. He +had not seen his daughter since the hour when he left the Temple, +before the break of day. And now, faint with loss of blood, and +yet strong in the consciousness of his triumph, he rushed into the +death-room of his child. + +"I have had a hard time, Frank, but the game is won! The estate is +ours! The other son of Gulian Van Huyden is in my power,--" + +The words died on his lips. He beheld the dark form of the stranger, +and the face of his dying child. The young form clad in a shroud; the +countenance pale with death; the large eyes, whose brightness was +vailed in a glassy film,--he saw this sad picture at a glance, but +could not believe the evidence of his senses. + +"Why, Frank, what's all this?" he cried, as with his pale face, marked +by wounds, he stood before his daughter. + +She slowly raised her eyes, and regarded him with a sad smile. + +"The poison, father,--I drank it myself; _he_ went forth from this +house safe from all harm--" + +Her voice failed. + +Tarleton uttered a frightful cry, and fell like a dead man on the +floor, his face against the carpet. The reality of the scene had burst +upon him; in the hour of his triumph he saw his schemes,--the plans +woven through the long course of twenty-one years and darkened by +hideous crimes,--leveled in a moment to the dust. + +Frank slowly turned her head, and fixed her glassy eyes upon the face +of Ernest,--O, the intensity of that long and yearning gaze! + +"I am weary and cold," she gasped, "but it is light yonder." + +And that was all. Her eyes became fixed,--she laid her head gently on +her shoulder, and fell asleep. + +She was dead! + +Ernest knelt beside her, and with his eyes flashing from their sunken +sockets, he clasped his hands and uttered a prayer for the dead. + +There were footsteps in the passage and presently into the death-room +came Mary Berman and Nameless, their faces stamped with the same look +in which hope and terror mingled. Nameless bore the last letter of +Frank in his hand; it had hurried him and Mary from the corpse of the +artist to the home of Frank, and they arrived only in time to behold +her dead. + +"She died to save my life!" said Nameless solemnly, as he surveyed +that face which looked so beautiful in death. That there were strong +emotions tugging at his heart,--emotions such as are not felt twice in +a lifetime,--need not be told. + +And Mary, with tears upon her pure and beautiful face, stole silently +to the side of the dead woman, and smoothed her dark hair, and put her +kiss upon her clammy forehead, and closed those eyes which had looked +their last upon this world. + +The prayer was said, and Ernest, resting his hands upon the arm of the +chair in which the dead woman sat, hid once more his face from the +light, and surrendered himself to the full sway of his agony. + +A voice broke the dead stillness, and a livid face was uplifted from +the floor. + +"It's an infernal dream, Frank. You could not have been so foolish! The +estate is ours,--ours,--" + +He saw at the same glance the face of Nameless and the face of his dead +child. + + * * * * * + +Here let us return for a moment to Maryvale, the old mansion in the +country, to which, this morning before break of day, the UNKNOWN, +(in whom you doubtless recognize Gaspar Manuel, or the Legate,) had +conducted the boy, Gulian, the private secretary of Evelyn Somers, Sr. + +The contest between Tarleton and the dog Cain, in the presence of young +Gulian, will be remembered; as well as the fact, that even as Tarleton, +suffering from his wounds, attempted to bear Gulian from the house, he +fell insensible at his victim's feet. + +An hour afterward, when the light of day shone on the old mansion, +the Legate returned and eagerly sought the chamber of young Gulian. +The floor was stained with blood, the dead body of Cain was stretched +at his feet, but the boy had disappeared. The Legate was a man, who, +through the course of long years had learned to restrain all external +signs of emotion, but when he became conscious that young Gulian was +gone,--he knew not whither,--his agitation broke forth in the wildest +expressions of despair. + +"But I will again rescue him from his persecutor. Yes, before the day +is over, he will be safe under my protection." + +And himself and his numerous agents sought the city through all day +long; and sought in vain. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +HERMAN AND GODIVA. + + +Our history now returns to Madam Resimer, whom we left in her most +secret chamber, near ten o'clock, on the 24th of December, listening to +the sound of the bell, which resounded through her mansion. + +It was the bell of the secret passage. + +"Who can it be?" again ejaculated the Madam, as she stood in the center +of the room, with the light of the candle on one side of her florid +face. + +To which Corkins, who stood behind her, his slender form lost in her +capacious shadow, responded in a quivering voice, "Who _can_ it be?" + +Much troubled and very angry, and not knowing upon whom to vent her +anger, the Madam turned upon her trembling satellite, and addressing +him by numerous titles, not one of which but was more vigorous than +elegant or complimentary, she bade him,-- + +"Run for your life. Answer the hell of the secret passage! Don't be +foolin' away your time, when the very devil's to pay and no pitch hot. +Cut!" + +Corkins accordingly "_cut_," or, to speak in a less classical phrase, +he glided from the room. + +How anxiously the Madam waited there, in her most secret chamber, with +her finger to her lip, and the candle-light on one side of her face! + +"Who can it be? Only four persons in the world know of this secret +passage. It can't be this devil from Philadelphia? O, I shall do +somebody a mischief! I can't endure this any longer,--" + +Hark! There are footsteps in the corridor; they approach the Madam's +room. She fixes her small black eyes upon the door, with the intensity +of a--cat, contemplating a rat-hole. + +"This way," cries the voice of Corkins, and he enters the room, +followed by two persons, one of whom is taller than the other, and both +of whom wear caps and cloaks. + +"Has _he_ come back?" cries the taller of the two, in a voice that +trembles with anxiety and fear,--he lifts his cap, and discloses the +face of Herman Barnhurst. + +"No,--no,--I haven't laid eyes upon him since last night," and she +clutched Barnhurst by the arm,--"Where did you leave him?" + +"He went home with me," replied Barnhurst, and stopped to gaze around +that room, dimly lighted by a single candle, as though he was afraid +that Dermoyne was concealed in its shadows.--"I left him in the parlor +down stairs. He was determined to wait for me until morning, and then +come with me to this house. But this morning, when I came down stairs, +he was not there." + +"He was not there?" echoed the Madam, breathless with impatience. + +"He wasn't there; there was blood upon the sofa and the carpet, and +marks of a struggle." + +The Madam uttered a round oath and a cry of joy. + +"Good,--capital! My boys have done their work. You see, Herman, I sent +Dirk and Slung after him, and they've laid him out. It's a sure thing." + +Herman, even in his fright, could not but help shuddering, as he heard +the cool manner in which she spoke of Dermoyne's death. The next +instant the idea of his own safety rose uppermost in his mind. + +"Do you think that your fellows have taken good care of him?" he asked. + +"Don't doubt it,--don't doubt it," and she rubbed her hands joyfully +together. "It's a sure thing!" + +A raven-like voice, behind her, echoed, "Sure thing!" It was Corkins, +of course. + +"And _she_,--how is _she_?"--Herman lowered his voice, and pointed +upward. + +"She is well!" was the emphatic response of the Madam,--"But how did +you know of the secret bell? Only four persons in the world know of it, +and you are not one of them." + +Herman pointed to the person who had entered with him, and who now +stood in the darkness at his back,--"Godiva!" he said. + +The Madam gave a start, echoing "Godiva," and Corkins, behind the +Madam, as in duty bound, re-echoed "Godiva!" + +The person called by this name,--the name of the beautiful lady, famed +in ancient story, for the sacrifice which she made of her modesty in +order to achieve a noble purpose,--advanced from the shadows into +the light, saying, "This boy came to me this morning, in a world of +trouble; he confided all his sorrows to me. It appears he is in a devil +of a scrape. I came here to get him out of it." + +And removing cap and cloak, Godiva stood disclosed in the candle-light. +Godiva was a woman of some twenty-five years, with a rounded form, +brown complexion, large eyes that were hazel in the sun, and black by +night; and Godiva wore her raven hair in rich masses on either side +of her warm, tropical face. Godiva was dressed, not in those flowing +garments which give such bewitching mystery to the form of a lovely +woman, but, in male costume from head to foot,--a shirt, with open +collar, dark satin vest, blue frock-coat, black pantaloons, and boots +of patent leather. Although looking short in stature beside the tall +Barnhurst, she was tall for a woman, and her male costume, which did +full justice to her throat, her ample bust, and rounded limbs, became +her exceedingly. + +With her cloak on her right arm, her cap in her right hand, she rested +her left hand on her hip, and looked in the face of the Madam with an +air of insolent condescension that was quite refreshing. + +"How _do_ you _do_, my dear child?"--and the Madam offered her hand. +Godiva waved her back. + +"Don't be impertinent, woman," was the response. "The few days that +I once passed in your house, by no means give you the right to be +familiar. I am here, simply, for two reasons,--I wish, in the first +place, to get the boy (she pointed to Barnhurst,) out of his 'scrape;' +and, in the second place, to recover a certain manuscript which, it +seems, I left in this house when I was here." + +The Madam was an essentially vulgar, as well as wicked woman, but she +could not help feeling the cutting insolence which marked the tone of +the queenly Godiva. + +"There is no _sich_ manuscript here," she said, tartly, and her +thoughts reverted to the Red Book. + +"Hadn't you better wait to know what kind of manuscript it was, before +making such a flat denial?" coolly responded Godiva. "But now let's +talk of this boy! What's the amount of his entanglements? How's the +girl?" + +"She is well," said the Madam, emphatically. + +"Well!" croaked Corkins from the background. + +"And this fellow from Philadelphia--was he really such a desperate +creature?" asked Godiva. + +"A devil incarnate," replied the Madam. + +"What's that?" cried Herman, with a start, as the sound of a hell once +more rang through the mansion. + +"It's the bell of the door in the alley. Run, Corkins! It's Dirk and +Slung. Bring 'em up,--'put', I say!" + +Corkins "put," and the party waited for his return in evident +anxiety. It was not long before there was the tramp of heavy steps in +the passage, and two men, roughly clad--one, short, thick-set, and +bow-legged, the other, tall and bony--stumbled into the room, bringing +with them the perfume of very bad liquor. + +"Where's de ole woman?" cried Dirk; "What in de thunder de yer have +candles a-burnin' in daylight for--s-a-y?" + +"Ole lady, I'll finger dat pewter--I will," said Slung-shot. "We laid +yer man out--we did. Dat cool hundred, ef yer please." + +And while Herman and Godiva glided into the shadows, the two ruffians +recounted the incidents of the night, in their peculiar _patois_; the +Madam interrupting them with questions, at every step of the narrative. + +The story of these savages of city life, (and we believe that only the +English and American cities produce such ruffians in a perfect state +of brute-and-devil completeness,) reduced to the briefest compass, and +stripped of all its oaths, read thus:--They had followed Dermoyne and +Barnhurst all night long. Entering the house of Barnhurst, (the door +had been left ajar,) they had found Dermoyne seated on the sofa, his +eyes fixed upon a book. As one struck him with the slung-shot, the +other extinguished the light, and a brief but terrible contest took +place in the dark. Finally, they had borne the insensible form of +Dermoyne from the house, and flung him into the gutter of a dark and +deserted street. + +"An' dere he'd freeze to death, ef he gets over de dirk and de +slung-shot--he would," added the thick-set ruffian. + +"And where have you been ever since?" asked the Madam, whose little +eyes sparkled with joy. + +"Gittin' drunk," tersely remarked Dirk. + +"The book--you have it?" she said eagerly. + +To which Dirk replied, in his own way, that if he had, he hoped his +eyes and liver might be made uncomfortable for an indefinite length of +time. + +"Fact is, it slid under de sofar in de muss, an' I couldn't' find it in +de dark." + +The Madam burst into a transport of fury, and in her rage administered +the back of her hand somewhat freely to the faces of Dirk and Slung. +"Out of my sight--out of my sight! Fools! Devils! That book was all +that I sent you after!" and she fairly drove them from the room. They +were heard shuffling in the passage, and murmuring and cursing as they +went down stairs. + +"The miserable knaves! What trust can you put in human natur' arter +this!" and she fretted and fumed along the room. + +"The book is safe in my house," said Barnhurst, advancing, his face +glowing with satisfaction. "This fellow, it appears, is safe. I pledge +my word to have that book in this room before an hour." + +Godiva, looking over his shoulder, muttered in atone inaudible to the +others: "And my manuscript is in the book, and I pledge my word to have +that within an hour." + +"If you do that, Herman, I'll sell my soul for you!" cried the Madam, +warmly. + +"Suppose we look at the--_the patient_," whispered Herman. + +"Up-stairs in the same room;" and Herman and Godiva left her room +together, and directed their steps toward the chamber of Alice. + +"The book is safe; he'll keep his word--don't you think so, Corkins?" +said the Madam, as she found herself once more alone with her familiar +spirit. + +"Safe--perfectly," returned Corkins, when his words were interrupted +by the ring of a bell. It was the front door bell this time. Corkins +hurried from the room, and in a few moments returned, and placed a card +in the hands of the Madam: + +"This person wants to see you." + +Drawing near the candle, the Madam read upon the card this name--"DR. +ARTHUR CONROY." A name, you will remember, associated with the history +of Marion Merlin. It was Arthur Conroy, who, in the dissecting room, +saw the corpse before him start suddenly into life. + +"Dr. Conroy!"--it seemed a familiar name to the Madam. "I wonder if he +wants a subject? Show him up, Corkins." + + * * * * * + +Through the bowed window-shutters and the drawn curtains, the winter +sunlight stole into the chamber of Alice, lighting up the bed, and +touching with a few golden rays the face of the Virgin Mary on the wall. + +Herman and Godiva stood by the bed, their backs toward the window, +and their faces from the light. They did not speak. The room was +breathlessly still. + +Alice was there, resting on the bed, the coverlet drawn up to her neck, +and her cheek pressed against the pillow, thus turning her face to the +light. One hand and arm lay motionless on the coverlet, and her sunny +hair strayed in unbound luxuriance over the pillow. Her eyes were +closed; her lips slightly parted; her cheek pale as the pillow on which +she slept: for she was sleeping. A bright ray, that found entrance +through an aperture in the curtains, was playing over her face, now on +her lips, now on her throat, and among the waves of her silken hair. +The sight was so beautiful that Godiva, whose heart had long since +ceased to feel, was awed into silence. As for Herman, he could not take +his eyes away, but stood there with his gaze chained to the face of the +sleeping girl; for she was sleeping--sleeping that dear, quiet sleep, +which, in this world, never knows an awakening hour. In the language of +the woman-fiend, she indeed "was _well_!" Dead, with the second life +which she bore, dead within her. Poor Alice! She had only opened her +wings in the world, to fold them again and die. + +"Herman," whispered Godiva, "look at that! Are you not proud of your +work?" + +"Don't taunt me, Marion," he answered. "Had I never met you--had you +never made my life but one continued dream of sensuality--I would not +stand here at this hour, gazing upon this murdered girl." + +"Sweet boy! And so, when I first met you, you believed all that you +preached in the pulpit?" + +"If I did not believe it, I certainly did not wish to doubt it. You, +and the life I've led since first I knew you, have made me _dread_ the +very mention of the existence of a God, or of the immortality of the +soul." + +"Pretty boy! How sadly I've used you! But don't call me Marion +again;--that name I left in the grave. Leave off preaching, and let us +see what you intend to do?" + +"Godiva, whichever way I look is ruin. I am rid of this Dermoyne; but +there are those persons who, conscious of _the event of that night in +November_, 1842, will expose me to the world, unless I become their +tool, in regard to the heirs of Anreke Jans and Trinity Church. I am +sick of this life of suspense and dread! Let us fly, Godiva; I will +change my name, and, in some distant place, begin life anew." + +"What, and leave your wife?" + +"Take care, Godiva, take care! Don't press me too hard! You know who it +was that planned the dishonor of that wife, when she was a maiden, and +betrothed to me. Take care!" + +"You needn't look so black at me with those devilish eyes," said +Godiva, as her face lost that bitter sneer, which, for the last few +moments, had made her resemble a beautiful fiend. "You mustn't be angry +at my jests. Well--let us travel! I have money enough for both, and we +can enjoy ourselves with money anywhere. But the Van Huyden estate?" + +"I cannot call my share my own, even if a share should happen to fall +to me. These people who knew of _the event in_ 1842, and who are now +playing conspirator between Trinity Church and the heirs of Anreke +Jans, will demand my share as the price of their silence. I cannot live +in this state of dread. Listen Godiva! A vessel sails this afternoon +for one of the West India Islands. What think you of a life in the +tropics, far away from this devilish _practical_ world? Why, we can +make an Eden to ourselves, and forget that we ever lived before! I +have engaged passage for two on board this vessel. It makes my heart +bound! Groves of palm--a cloudless sky--good wine--days all dream, and +nights!--ah, Godiva! Flight, Godiva, flight!" + +"Flight be it, and to-night!" cried Godiva, winding her arm about +Herman's neck. + +They were disturbed by a sound, low and scarcely audible--it resembled +the sound of a footstep. Herman turned his head, and saw, between him +and the doorway, the haggard face of--Arthur Dermoyne, whose cheek +was marked with a hideous gash, but whose eyes shone with a clear +unfaltering light. + +Herman read his death in those eyes. + + * * * * * + +Let us turn from this scene, and enter once more the secret chamber of +the Madam. + +"Why, Doctor, I am glad to see you!" she cried, as Doctor Arthur Conroy +entered her room; "I haven't clapped eyes upon you for a dog's age. +Why, bless me, how changed you are!" + +As Conroy flung his cloak upon a chair, and advancing to the light, +seated himself opposite the Madam, it was evident that he was indeed +changed. His eyes were dull and heavy, his cheeks bloated; the marks +of days and nights spent in sensual excess, were upon every lineament +of his once noble face. A sad, a terrible change! Can this man who +sits before us, with his coat buttoned to the chin, and his heavy eyes +rolling vacantly in his bloated countenance, be the same Arthur Conroy +whom we first beheld in the lonely hour of his student vigil, his eyes +dilating with a noble ambition, his forehead stamped with thought, with +genius? + +"I am changed," he said sullenly and with a thick utterance; "let me +have some brandy." + +The Madam, without a word, produced a bottle and a glass. Conroy filled +the glass half-full, and drank it, undiluted with water, and without +removing the glass from his lips. + +And then his faded eyes began to flash and his cheek to glow. + +It was the most melancholy kind of intemperance--that which drinks +alone, and drinks in silence, and, instead of rousing the social +feelings, or the grotesque fancies of drunken mirth, calls up the +images of the past, and bids them feed upon the soul. + +"Good brandy that! It warms the blood!" + +"Why, Conroy, I have not seen you since you brought Godiva here, and +that is a year and I don't know how many months ago." + +"May God,"--he ended the sentence with an awful imprecation upon the +very name of Godiva. And his face grew wild with hatred. + +"Why I thought she was a favorite of yours, or you of hers," said the +Madam. + +"By ----! I wish I had buried my knife in her heart, as she lay on the +dissecting table before me!" he cried, his voice hoarse with emotion. +"Look at me! When first I met that woman I was studious, ambitious; the +thought of my mother and two sisters, who depended upon my efforts, +stirred me into superhuman exertion. Well!--It is not _quite_ a +_century_ since I met that woman, and look at me now--a gambler--a +drunkard; yes," he struck the table with his fist--"Arthur Conroy +is come to that! My mother dead, of a broken heart, and my sisters, +well!--my sisters--" + +As he tried to choke down his emotion, his features worked as with a +spasm. + +"Well! never mind!--and the accursed woman, whom I brought to your +house, in order to kill the fruits of her passion,--she is the cause of +all,--" + +The light which left the greater part of the room in shadow, fell +strongly over the florid face of the Madam, manifesting vague +astonishment; and the flushed visage of Conroy, working with violent +emotions. + +"Yes," he said, as though thinking aloud, while his eyes shone with the +brilliancy of a lighted coal,--"she was to make my fortune; she was +to aid me, as I ascended that difficult path, which ambition treads +in pursuit of fame. How smooth her words! I called her back from the +dead,--she recovered from her relative a large portion of her property, +sacrificing the rest, on condition that he concealed the fact of her +existence from the world,--and I loved her, became the habitant of her +mansion, the companion of her voluptuous hours. The she-devil! look to +what she has brought me!" + +"I wonder if he wants to borrow money?" said the Madam, in a sort of +stage-whisper. + +"No he does not," returned Conroy, with a scowl,--"He wants to do you +a service, good lady. This morning about daybreak, as I was returning +from the Club-Room, I came across a poor devil in the streets, who had +been shockingly abused by ruffians,--" + +"Ah!" and the Madam sank back in her chair. + +"I could not let him die there, so I dragged him to the house of a +clergyman, hard by, and laid him on the sofa. Then, assisted by the +wife of the clergyman, a good sort of woman,--I dressed the wounds of +the poor devil, and brought him to." + +"The name of the clergyman?" asked the Madam, biting her lips. + +"Barnet, or Barnhurst, or some such name." + +"Ah!" and the Madam changed color, "and you left this man there?" + +"He must have had a constitution of iron, to stand all those knocks! +Do you know in a little while he was on his feet, explaining to the +clergyman's lady, that he had come home with her husband, the night +before, and had been dragged by unknown ruffians, from that very +house,--" + +"The dev-i-l!" and Madam clutched the arms of her chair, as she tried +to restrain the rage, which filled every atom of her bulky frame. + +"And now, he's down stairs at the door--" + +"Down stairs at the door!" she bounded from her chair. + +"He has a book under his arm, bound in red morocco," continued Dr. +Conroy,--"and he desires to see you on particular business," and Conroy +filled another glass, half full of brandy. + + * * * * * + +Once more to the death-room of Alice. + +Dermoyne, who was as white as a sheet, stood but one step from the +threshold, Godiva was by the bed, Herman near the head of the bed: thus +Godiva was between the avenger and his victim. + +Herman read his death in the eyes of Dermoyne, and looked to the +window, as though he thought of raising the sashing, and dashing +himself to pieces upon the pavement. + +Godiva also caught the eye of Dermoyne,--she saw, that weak as he was +from his wounds, and the loss of blood, that he was nerved by his +emotions, by his purpose, with superhuman strength,--she saw the pistol +in his hand. And all the craft of her dark and depraved nature, came +in a moment to her aid. She resolved to save Herman,--that is, if her +craft could save him. + +"Hush! hush!" she whispered, "do not awake the sleeping girl! She has +had a hard night, but now all is well. Hush! tread lightly,--lightly!--" + +"Then she lives!" cried Dermoyne, and his savage eyes lit up with joy. + +"Lives, and is doing well, don't you see how sweet she sleeps?" said +Godiva advancing to him, on tip-toe, "Generous man! How can I thank you +for your kindness to my cousin, poor, dear Alice?" + +"Your cousin?" without another word, she flung herself upon Dermoyne's +breast, wound her arms tightly about his neck, and hung there like a +tigress upon the neck of her victim. + +"Now's your time, Herman!" she cried,--and Dermoyne struggled madly in +her embrace, but her arms wound closer about his neck, and he struggled +in vain. His pistol fell to the floor. + +Herman rushed by him, and the next instant, Dermoyne had unwound the +arms of Godiva, and flung her violently to the floor. He turned to the +door,--it was closed and locked,--Herman had escaped. + +"Villain, you shall pay for this with your life!" he cried, as with +flaming eyes, he advanced upon the prostrate Godiva. + +"Don't be rash, my dear," she said, as seated on the floor, she was +coolly engaged in arranging her disheveled hair, "You can't strike me. +I'm a woman." + +"A woman?" he echoed incredulously. + +"Yes,--and a very good looking one,--don't you think so?" and she +looked at him in insolent composure, while her vest,--torn open in the +struggle,--displayed a glimpse of her neck and bosom. + +Who, in this calm shameless thing,--proud at once of her beauty, and +her shame, would recognize the innocent Marion Merlin of other years? +With an ejaculation of contempt and anger, Dermoyne turned away from +her, and approached the bed of Alice. + +Alice was indeed sleeping there, her cheek upon the pillow, her lips +apart, and with a ray of sunshine upon her closed eyelids, and sunny +hair. + +Dermoyne felt his heart die within him at the sight. There are emotions +upon which it is best to drop the vail, for words are too weak to +picture their awful intensity. + +He called her name, "Alice!" and spreading forth his arms, he fell +insensible upon the bed, his lips pressing the forehead of the dead +girl. + +Godiva rose, closed her vest, and calmly surveyed the scene, with her +eyes shadowed by her uplifted hand:-- + +"I believe upon my soul, he did love her!" was her comment, and a tear +shone in her eye. + +The key turned in the lock, and presently a man with flushed face, and +unsteady step, appeared upon the threshold. It was Arthur Conroy. + +"Halloo! what's up?" he cried, with a thick utterance.--"That you +Divy?" and staggering over the floor, he attempted to put his arm about +her neck. + +"Beast!" she cried, and struck him in the face. And ere he had +recovered from the surprise of the blow, she glided from the room. + +Seating himself on the foot of the bed, his eyes rolling in the vacancy +of intoxication, he began to mutter words like these,-- + +"I'd a-better have cut you up, when I had you on the dissectin' +table--I had. 'Beast.' You've served the devil for very small wages, +Arthur Conroy! Ha, ha,--its a queer world." + +Shall we ever see Herman and Godiva, Conroy and Dermoyne again? + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE DREAM-ELIXIR. + + +The Twenty-Fourth of December was a happy day with Randolph Royalton. +One happy day, after a long month devoted to agony and despair! Early +morning light, found him in an upper chamber of the mansion, near +the window, his form half concealed among the curtains, but his pale +countenance, fully disclosed. There was thought upon his broad white +forehead, relieved by the jet-black hair, an emotion of unspeakable +tenderness,--passion,--in his large, clear blue eyes, and all the while +upon his lips, an expression in which hatred mingled with contempt. +For three images rose before him,--his future, and that was hard to +read, and buried him in thought,--Eleanor, young and beautiful, and +willing to become his own, and that filled his eyes with the light of +passion,--his Brother, whom he had left helpless and insensible in a +distant chamber, and who had met all his offers of fraternal love with +withering scorn, and that thought curled his lip with mingled hatred +and contempt. + +In his hand he held a letter, which had just been delivered by Mr. +Hicks, and before him were two huge trunks, one bearing the name of +"Randolph Royalton, Heidelberg," and the other the name of "Esther +Royalton, Hill Royal, S. C." These trunks which had just arrived in a +mysterious manner, had been placed in his room by the hand of a servant. + +On his way south, about a month before, Randolph had left his trunk +in Washington, and hurried home, eager to see his father. When Esther +was brought to Washington, by her brother and her purchaser, her trunk +was brought with her from Royalton. And when Randolph and Esther +escaped from Washington, they took their trunks with them as far as +Philadelphia, where they left them in their eagerness to escape from +their pursuers. + +And now these trunks,--containing all that they were worth in the +world,--had by some unknown person, been brought to the house in +Broadway, and delivered into the servant's hands, accompanied by the +note which Randolph held. + +"Brother!" ejaculated Randolph, thinking of Harry Royalton, whom he +had left weak and helpless in a distant chamber,--a chamber which +Randolph had given up to him--"Brother! I am afraid our accounts draw +to a close. I'm afraid that your nature cannot be changed. Shall I have +to fight you with your own weapons? Last night I saved your life,--I +brought you to my own home; I laid you on my own bed; I watched over +you, and when you woke, held out to you a brother's hand. That hand you +struck down in scorn! So much the worse for you, dear brother. Your +condition will not allow you to leave this house for a day or two,--at +least not until _to-morrow_ is over. And _to-morrow_ past, brother, you +will forfeit all interest in the Van Huyden Estate." + +Randolph was a generous and a noble man, but there were desperate +elements within, which the events of the last month had begun to +develop. He now felt that his fate would be decided and forever, by the +course of the next twenty-four hours. And every power of his soul, all +the strength, the good,--shall we say evil?--began to rise within him +to meet the crisis. There was energy in his look, danger in his eye. + +"And Eleanor,--" he breathed that name and paused, and for a moment +he was enveloped in the atmosphere of an intense but sinless passion. +"Eleanor loves me! She will be mine!" + +But how should his marriage with Eleanor be accomplished, without the +fatal disclosure, that instead of being the legitimate child of John +Augustine Royalton, he was simply--the White Slave of his own brother? + +The thought was madness, but Randolph met it, and rousing every power +of his soul, sought to pierce the clouds which hung upon his future. + +He opened the letter, which Mr. Hicks had delivered to him, and +recognized the hand of his unknown protector,--his friend of the +Half-Way House. It was dated "Dec. 24th," 1844, and these were its +contents:-- + + "TO RANDOLPH ROYALTON:-- + + "When first I met you and your sister at the house near Princeton, + and heard the story of your wrongs, in you I recognized the children + of an old and dear friend, John Augustine Royalton. I determined to + protect you. You know how my plans were laid. Your brother, also your + persecutor, was delivered to punishment. Yourself and sister were + brought to New York, and placed in the mansion which you now occupy. + Last night, wishing to know whether there yet remained in your brother + one throb of a better nature--conscious that if his feelings to you + were unchanged, you would at no moment be safe from his vengeance,--I + arranged your meeting with him and his instrument, in the den below + Five Points. From old Royal (whom I first met in Philadelphia, and + who told me of your story before I saw you at the half-way house,) I + have learned all that occurred last night,--the attack made on you by + your brother,--your magnanimous conduct,--the awful, although richly + deserved death of Bloodhound, his atrocious tool. And although I know + not what became of your brother after you bore him from the den, I + doubt not but that you have placed him where he will be watched over + with affectionate care. + + "Yesterday I encountered Mr. Bernard Lynn, who seemed to take a great + interest in you. I directed him to your house,--treat him as your + guest in your own house,--for I especially desire you to regard the + house and all it contains as yours, until the 25th of December has + passed. Until then be perfectly at your ease. Await the developments + of the 25th of December. In the meantime, if you want money, you + will find it in the drawer of the desk (of which I inclose the key,) + which you will find in your bed-room. Your trunks, which you lost in + Philadelphia, I have recovered and send to you. Make no effort to see + me, until I call upon you. + + "Your friend, + + "EZEKIEL BOGART." + +In the letter there was much food for thought. + +"So far all well," thought Randolph,--"but _to-morrow_ once passed, +what then?" He unlocked his trunk, and after a careful examination, +found that its contents remained the same as when he had left it in +Washington. It was very large, and divided into various compartments, +and contained his wardrobe, his choicest books, and most treasured +letters, together with numerous memorials of his student life in +Heidelberg. Opening a small and secret drawer, he drew forth a package +of letters, held together by a faded ribbon. + +"Ah! letters from my father!" and he untied the package,--"What is +this? I never saw it before!" + +It was a letter directed to him in his father's hand, and sealed with +his father's seal. To his complete astonishment the seal was unbroken. + +"How came this letter here? My father's seal and unbroken,--this is +indeed strange!" + +He regarded the letter carefully, weighed it in his hand, but paused, +in hesitation, ere he broke the seal. For the first time, written +around the seal, in his father's hand, he beheld these words, "_Not to +be opened until my death._" + +Tears started into Randolph's eyes, and for a moment, as he knelt +there, he rested his forehead on his hand. + +Then, with an eager hand, he broke the seal. The contents of the letter +were bared to the light. + + "HEIDELBERG, _September_ 23, 1840. + + "DEAREST SON:-- + + "You have just left me, and with the memory of our late conversation + fresh in my mind, I now write this letter, which you will not read + until I am dead. Randolph, I repeat the truth of that which I have + just disclosed to you,--your mother was not my mistress, but my lawful + wife. Yourself and Esther are legitimate. By my will I make you, with + Harry, joint inheritors of my estate, and of my share in the Van + Huyden estate. + + "Your mother, Herodia, was not the child of Colonel Rawdon, but the + dearly beloved daughter of ---- ----, who never acknowledged her to + the world. He communicated, however, the secret of her paternity to + Rawdon, and left her in his charge, intrusting him with a sealed + packet, which he directed should be delivered to Herodia's son, + in case a son was ever born to her. A packet which contained a + commission, upon whose fulfillment by that son, the happiness, the + destiny of all the races on the American continent, might depend. + Worshiping the memory of this great man, Rawdon treated Herodia (known + as a slave) as his own child and would not transfer her to me, until I + had made her my wife in a secret marriage. + + "A sealed copy of my will I gave you a few moments since; and this + letter contains an original letter of ---- ----, written to Colonel + Rawdon, and recognizing Herodia as his child. + + "When I am dead, you will find the packet in a secret closet behind + the fourth shelf of my library, at Hill Royal. There you will also + find a large amount of gold, which may be useful to you in some + unforeseen hour of adversity, and which I hereby give to you and + Esther. + + "This letter I inclose in the package of letters which you left for my + perusal. + + "Your father, + + "JOHN AUGUSTINE ROYALTON, + + "_of Hill Royal_." + +Randolph read this letter with signs of emotion not to be mistaken. +Rising from his knees, he walked slowly up and down the room, his eyes +shaded by his uplifted hand. As he drew near the window, his pale face +was flushed, his eyes radiant with new light. + +"So! I am then the elder brother, the real lord of Hill Royal! My +mother was a slave, but she was the lawful wife of my father." His brow +clouded and his lips curved. "It seems to me this younger brother has +given us trouble enough,--let him have a care how his shadow crosses my +way for the future." + +He stood erect in every inch of his stature, his eyes dilating, and +his hand extended, as though,--even like a glorious landscape, rich in +vine-clad mountains and grassy meadows, smiling in the sun,--he beheld +his future stretch clear and bold before him. + +"Harry, I have given you my hand for the last time," he said, in a +significant voice. + +A piece of paper, carefully folded and worn by time, slipped from +the letter which he held. Randolph seized it eagerly, and opening +it, beheld a few lines traced in a handwriting which had long become +historical. It was dated many years back, and was addressed to Colonel +Rawdon. + + "MY ESTEEMED FRIEND:-- + + "I am glad to hear the girl, HERODIA, whom, many years ago, I placed + in your care, (acquainting you with the circumstances of her birth + and paternity,) progresses toward womanhood, rich in education, + accomplishments and personal loveliness. While nominally your slave, + you have treated her as a daughter,--accept her father's heartfelt + gratitude. In consequence of her descent, on her mother's side, she + cannot (with safety to herself) be formally manumitted, nor can she + be publicly recognized as the equal of your own daughter, or the + associate of ladies of the white race. But it is my last charge to + you, that she be honorably (even although secretly) married; and that + the inclosed sealed packet which I send to you, be given to her eldest + son, in case a son is born to her. That packet contains matters which, + carried into action by such a son, would do much, yes, everything, + to establish the happiness of all the races on this continent. Kiss + for me, that dear daughter of mine, whom, in this life, I shall never + behold. + + "Yours, with respect and gratitude, + + "---- ----." + +A very touching,--an altogether significant letter. + +Randolph pressed it to his lips in silence. Then inclosing it within +his father's letter, he placed them both in a secret compartment of his +trunk. + +He seated himself, and folding his arms, gave himself up to the +dominion of a crowd of thoughts, which flooded in upon his soul, like +mingled sunshine and lightning through the window of a darkened room. + + * * * * * + +Bending over his trunk, he was examining, with an absent gaze, certain +memorials of his old student brothers of Heidelberg. A small casket +contained them all. + +"This ring was given to me by poor Richmond, the English student. +He was killed in a duel. And here is the watch of Van Brondt,--poor +fellow! he died of consumption, even as his studies were completed, +and a youth of poverty and hardship seemed about to be succeeded +by a manhood of wealth and fame. And this,"--he took up a small +vial, whose glass was incased in silver,--"this, Van Eichmer, the +enthusiastic chemist, gave me. I wonder whether his dreams of fame, +from the discovery embodied in this vial, will ever be realized? A rare +liquid,--its powers rivaling the wonders of enchantment. He gave it to +me under a solemn pledge not to subject it to chemical analysis, until +he has time to mature his discovery, and make it known as the result +of his own genius. He called it (somewhat after the fanciful fashion +of the old alchemists) the 'Dream-Elixir.' I wonder if it has lost its +virtues?" + +Removing the buckskin covering which concealed the stopple, he then +carefully drew the stopple, and applied the vial for a moment to his +nostrils. The effect was as rapid as lightning. His face changed; +his eyes grew wild and dreamy. His whole being was pervaded by an +inexpressible rapture,--a rapture of calmness, (if we may thus speak) +a rapture of unutterable repose. And like cloud-forms revealed by +lightning, the most gorgeous images swept before him. He seemed to have +been suddenly caught up into the paradise of Mahomet, among fountains, +showering upon beds of roses, and with the white-bosomed houris gliding +to and fro. + +In a word, the effect of the vial, applied but for an instant to +his nostrils, threw into the shade all the wonders of opium, and +rivaled in enchantment the maddening draught of oriental story,--_the +Hashish_,--which the Old Man of the Mountain gave to his devotee +Assassins,[1] intoxicating them with the odors of paradise, even as +their hands were red with their victims' blood. + +[1] The order of the Assassins prevailed in Asia, in the days of the +Crusades, and the history of their power and terrible influence is +strangely connected with the history of the Knights Templars. The +founder of the order, Hassan Sabah, rewarded his devotees for their +deeds of murder, by a draught (called as above, the HASHISH,) whose +powers of enchantment consoled them for a lifetime of hardship and +danger. + +Like one awaking from a trance, Randolph slowly recovered from the +effect of the Dream-Elixir, and once more saw the winter light shining +through his window. The vial was in his hand,--he had taken the +precaution to replace the stopple, the moment after he had applied it +to his nostrils. + +"It has lost none of its virtues. Held to the nostrils, or a few drops +on a kerchief, applied to the mouth, its first effect is rapture; the +second, rapture prolonged to delirium; its third, rapture that ends in +death." + +Randolph replaced the buckskin covering around the stopple of the vial, +and then placed the vial in his vest pocket. + +At this moment the door opened and the quiet Mr. Hicks entered the +room, clad in his gray livery, turned up with black. He bowed and +said,-- + +"Master, Mr. Lynn sends his compliments and desires to see you in the +parlor." + +"Tell Mr. Lynn that I will attend him presently," said Randolph rising +from his knees.--"How is our patient, Mr. Hicks?" + +"I left him asleep. He is very weak, though quite easy." + +"Mr. Hicks, I desire that you will attend him throughout the day, or +place him in the care of some trustworthy servant. If he asks for any +one, send for me. Admit no one into his room,--you understand, he is a +dear friend of mine,"--he placed his finger on his forehead,--"a little +touched here, and I do not wish his misfortune to be known, until all +the means of recovery, which I have at my command, prove hopeless. Mr. +Hicks, you will remember." + +"I will remember, and attend to your commands, master," and Mr. Hicks +bowed like an automaton. + +"Have this trunk removed to Miss Royalton's room," said Randolph, and +leaving Mr. Hicks, he descended to the parlor. + +Through the rich curtains of the eastern and western windows of that +magnificent apartment, the morning light was dimly shining. The lofty +walls, the pictures, the statues, the carpet, the mirrors, all looked +grand and luxurious in the softened light. + +Bernard Lynn sat on the sofa, in the center of the parlor, his arms +folded and his countenance troubled. As he raised his gaze and greeted +Randolph, in a kindly although absent way, Randolph saw that his +bronzed visage, (above which rose masses of snow-white hair) was traced +with the lines of anxious thought, and his dark eyes were feverish with +restlessness and care. + +"Sit by me, Randolph," he said in a serious voice, and he grasped +Randolph's hand and gazed earnestly in his face.--"I wish to speak with +you. I have traveled much, Randolph, and when matters press heavily on +my mind, I am a blunt man,--I use few words. I desire you to give all +imaginable emphasis to what I am about to say." + +Randolph took his hand and met his gaze; but he felt troubled and +perplexed at Bernard Lynn's words and manner. + +"Briefly, then, Randolph,--when can you leave the city?" + +Without knowing how the words came to his lips, Randolph replied,--"The +day after to-morrow." + +"Can you go with us, by steamer, to Charleston? I wish to visit +the scene,--" he paused as if unable to proceed,--"the scene,--you +understand me? And then, after a week's delay, we will go to Havana and +spend the winter there. Will you go with us?" + +It is impossible to describe the emotions which these words aroused. +Hopes, fears, a picture of his father's home, the consciousness there +was a taint upon his blood,--all whirled like lightning through his +brain. But he did not stop to analyze his thoughts, but answered +again,--as though the word was given to him,--in a single word, earnest +in tone, and with a hearty grasp,-- + +"Willingly," he said. + +A ray of pleasure flitted over the bronzed face of Bernard Lynn. But +in an instant he was sad and earnest again. "Randolph, I have been +thinking, and most seriously,--I beg you to listen to the result of my +thoughts. Nay, not a word,--fewest words are best, and a plain answer +to a plain question will decide all.--I have been thinking of the +desolate condition in which Eleanor will be left, in case her father is +suddenly taken away. She will need a friend, a protector, a husband." + +He paused; Randolph, all agitation, awaited his next word in breathless +suspense. + +"I have long known her feelings,--she tells me that she knows yours. +You are aware of my fortune and position,--I am aware of yours. +Plainly, then, do you love her,--do you desire her hand?" + +For a moment Randolph could not reply. + +"O, my dearest friend, can you ask it?" he exclaimed, taking both hands +of Mr. Lynn in his own,--"Do I desire Eleanor's hand? It is the only +wish of my life,--" + +"Enough, my friend, enough," replied Bernard, as a tear stole down his +cheek. "In serious matters, I am a man of few words,--I fear that I may +be suddenly taken away--I feel that there is no use of delay. Shall it +take place this evening in your house?" + +Randolph could only reply by a silent grasp of the hand. + +"In presence of your sister, myself and the clergyman? And then, the +day after to-morrow we leave for Charleston--" + +"You speak the dearest wish of my soul," was all that Randolph could +reply. + +Bernard Lynn arose,--"I will go out and buy a bridal present for my +child," he said, "and your sister and myself will take charge of all +the details of the marriage. God bless you, my boy! What a load is +lifted from my heart!" + +How over his bronzed visage, a look cordial and joyous as the spring +sunshine played, even while there were tears in his eyes! + +Randolph felt his heart swell with rapture, but instantly,--growing +pale as death,--he rose, and resolved to make a revelation, which would +blast all his hopes to ashes. + +"I will not deceive this good old man. I will tell him my real +condition, tell him that there is the blood of the accursed race in my +veins." + +This was his thought, and feeling like a criminal on the scaffold, he +prepared to fulfill it,-- + +"Ah, you and I are agreed," cried Bernard, with his usual jovial +laugh.--"but you must ask this child what she says of the matter," and +dropping Randolph's hand, he hurried from the room. + +Even as the first word of the confession was on his lip, Randolph +beheld Eleanor, who had entered unperceived, standing between him and +the light, on the very spot which her father had just left. + +She looked very beautiful. + +Clad in a dark dress, which, fitting closely to her arms and bust, and +flowing in rich folds, around her womanly proportions, from the waist +to the feet, she stood before him, one finger raised to her lip, her +eyes fixed upon him in a gaze, full of deep and passionate light. Her +face was cast into faint shadow, by her hair, which was disposed about +it, in brown and wavy masses. But through the shadow her eyes shone +with deep and passionate light. + +A very beautiful woman, now unable to utter a word, as with heaving +breast, she confronts the man whom she knows is destined to be her +husband. + +Why does all thought of confession fade from Randolph's mind? + +O, the atmosphere of the presence of a pure, and beautiful +woman, whose eyes gleam upon you with passionate love, carries +with it an enchantment, which makes you forget the whole +universe,--everything,--save that she is before you, that she loves +you, that your soul is chained to her eyes. + +Randolph silently stretched forth his arms. She came to him, and laid +her arms about his neck, her bosom upon his breast. + +"My wife!" he whispered. + +And she raised her face, until their lips and their eyes, met at once, +whispering--"My husband." + + * * * * * + +Certainly, this was a happy day for Randolph Royalton. + +Talk of opium, _hashish_, dream-elixir! Talk of their enchantment, and +of the Mahomet's paradise which they create! What enchantment can rival +the pressure of a pure woman's lips, which breathe softly, "husband!" +as she lays them against your own? + +But at least a dozen gentlemen who have divorce cases on hand, will +curse me bitterly for writing the last sentence. And all the old +bachelors who, having never known the kiss of a pure wife, or any wife +at all, and having grown musty in their sins, will turn away with an +"umph!" and an oath. And all the young libertines, who, deriving their +opinion of women, merely from the unfaithful wives, and abandoned +creatures with whom they have herded, and having expended even before +the day of young manhood, every healthy throb, in shameless excess, +they, too, will expand their faded eyes, and curl their colorless lips, +at the very mention of "a pure woman," much less, a "pure woman's +kiss." The "fast," the very "fast" boys! + +But there are some who will not utterly dislike the allusion to a pure +woman, or a pure woman's kiss. + +That quiet sort of people who, having no divorce cases on hand, know +that there are such things as pure women in the world, and know that +a good wife, carries about her an atmosphere of goodness, that brings +heaven itself down to the home. + +And you, old bachelor,--a word in your ear,--if you only knew the +experience of returning from a long journey late at night,--of stealing +quietly into a home, your own home, up the dark stairs, and into a +room, where a single light is shining near a bed,--of seeing there, +blooming on the white pillow, the face of a pure wife, your own +wife, rosy with sleep, and with her dark hair peeping out from her +night-cap----, why, old bachelor, if you had only an idea of this kind +of experience, you'd curse yourself for not getting married some forty +years ago!-- + + * * * * * + +The day passed quickly and happily, in quiet preparation for the bridal +ceremony. + + * * * * * + +Eleanor was seated in a rocking-chair, her feet crossed and resting +on a stool, her head thrown back, and her dark hair resting partly +on her bared shoulders, partly on the arm of Esther, who stood +behind her. The beams of the declining sun came softened through the +window-curtains, and lit up the scene with mild, subdued light. It was +a beautiful picture. There stood Esther, the matured woman, rich in +every charm of voluptuous and stately beauty; and her gaze, softened by +her long eyelashes, was tenderly fixed upon the upturned countenance +of Eleanor,--a countenance radiant with youth, with abounding life, +with passionate love. The habit of dark green cloth which Esther wore, +contrasted with the robe of white muslin which enveloped Eleanor, its +flowing folds girdled lightly about her waist and its snowy whiteness, +half hidden by her unbound hair; for that hair which was soft brown in +the sunlight and black in the shadow, fell in copious waves over her +neck, her bosom, and below her waist. Eleanor was beautiful, Esther +was beautiful, but their loveliness was of contrasted types; you could +not precisely define how they differed; you only saw that they were +beautiful, and that the loveliness of one, set off and added to, the +charms of the other. + +And as Esther was arranging the hair of the bride, for the marriage +ceremony, they conversed in low tones: + +"O, we shall all be so happy!" said Eleanor--"the climate of Havana, +is as soft and bland as Italy, and it will be so delightful to leave +this dreary sky, this atmosphere all storm and snow, for a land where +summer never knows an end, and where every breeze is loaded with the +breath of flowers!" + +Esther was about to reply, but Eleanor continued,--and her words drove +the life-blood from Esther's cheek. + +"And on our way we will stop at the old mansion of Hill Royal, the home +of Randolph's ancestors. How I shall delight to wander with you through +those fine old rooms, where the associations of the past meet you at +every step! Do you know, Esther, that I am a great aristocrat,--I +believe in race, in blood,--in the perpetuation of the same qualities, +either good or evil, from generation to generation? Look at Randolph, +at yourself, for instance,--your look, your walk, every accent tell the +story of a proud, a noble ancestry!" + +"Or, look at yourself," was all that Esther could say, as she bent over +the happy bride, thus hiding her face,--grown suddenly pale,--from the +light. "Shall I tell her all?" the thought flashed over her, as she +wound her hands through the rich meshes of Eleanor's hair,--"shall I +tell this beautiful girl, who is as proud as she is beautiful, that in +the veins of her husband there is--negro blood?" + +But the very thought of such a revelation appalled her. + +"Better leave it to the future," she thought, and then said aloud, +"Tell me, Eleanor, something about Italy." + +And while Esther, with sisterly hands, arrayed her for the bridal, the +proud and happy bride, whose every vein swelled with abounding life and +love, spoke of Italy,--of its skies and its monuments,--of the hour +when she first met Randolph, and also of the moment when, amid the +Apennines, he saved her life, her honor. + +"O, sister, do you think that a love like ours can ever know the shadow +of change?" + +Happy Eleanor! + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Randolph, standing by the parlor window apparently gazing +upon the current of life which whirled madly along Broadway, in the +light of the declining day, was in reality abstracted from all external +existence, and buried in his own thoughts,--thoughts delicious and +enchanting. Was there no phantom in the background, to cast its fatal +shadow over the rich landscape which rose before his mental eye? + +He was attired for the marriage ceremony, in a severely plain costume, +which well became his thoughtful face and manly frame,--black dress +coat, vest of white Marseilles, open collar and black neckerchief. +As he stood there, noble-featured, broad-browed, his clear blue eyes +and dark hair, contrasting with his complexion whose extreme pallor +indicated by no means either lack of health or vigor, who would have +thought that there was--negro blood in his veins? + +"In an hour Eleanor will be my wife!" he muttered, and his brow grew +clouded and thoughtful, even while his eyes were filled with passionate +light. "But there is no use of reflecting now. I must leave that fatal +disclosure, with all its chances and consequences, to the future. +Eleanor will be my wife, come what will." + +His meditations were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Hicks, who wore +his usual imperturbable look, which seemed as much a part of him as his +livery of gray turned up with black. + +"How has our _patient_ been since I left him an hour ago?" asked +Randolph. + +"He is no longer delirious," answered Mr. Hicks. "About a half an hour +ago, he asked me the time of day, in a tone, and with a look, that +showed that he had come to his senses." + +"You conversed with him?" + +"No, sir. He fell into a quiet sleep, and I left him in charge of a +faithful servant. Don't you think we had better change the bandages on +his back, after awhile? He has been sadly abused----" + +"And I came to the scene of conflict just in time to save his life, and +bear him to my home,--I will see him at once, and then tell you when to +dress his wounds." + +He moved toward the door. + +"Has Mr. Lynn returned?" he said, turning his head over his shoulder. + +"About half an hour since, he went up stairs to his room," returned Mr. +Hicks. + +Randolph left the parlor and hastened toward his own chamber, +determined to make one more effort to change the hard nature, the +unrelenting hatred of his brother. As he passed along the corridor, +conscious that the most important crisis, if not the all-important +crisis, of his life was near, his thoughts mingling the image of +Eleanor with the proud memory of his lineage on the father's side, were +intense and all-absorbing. For the time he forgot the taint in his +blood. + +He arrived before the door of the chamber in which his brother lay. It +was near the foot of a broad staircase which, thickly carpeted, and +with bannisters of walnut, darkened by time, was illumined by light +from the skylight far above. The door of the chamber was slightly +open,--Randolph started, for he heard his brother's voice, speaking +in rapid, impetuous tones. And the next instant, the voice of Bernard +Lynn, hoarse with anger. Randolph, with his step upon the threshold, +drew back and listened. + +He did not pause to ask himself how Bernard Lynn came to be a visitor +in the chamber of his brother,--he only listened to their voices,--with +all his soul, he tried to distinguish their words. + +It was the moment of his life. It required a terrible exertion of will, +to suppress the cry of despair which rose to his lips. + +"A negro!" he heard the voice of Bernard Lynn, hoarse with rage,--"and +to my daughter! Never!" + +And then the voice of Harry Royalton, whose life he had spared and +saved,--"I heard of this marriage from one of the servants, and felt it +my duty to set you on your guard. Therefore, I sent for you. I can give +you proof,--proof that will sink the slave into the earth." + +Once more the voice of Bernard Lynn,--"A negro! and about to marry him +to my daughter! A negro!" + +There was the hatred of a whole life embodied in the way he pronounced +that word,--"a negro!" + +Randolph laid his hand against the wall, and his head sank on his +breast. He was completely unnerved. + +The hopes of his life were ashes. + +Once more, with a terrible exertion, he rallied himself, and with the +thought,--"There remains, at least, revenge!"--he advanced toward the +threshold. + +But there was a footstep on the stair. Turning, Randolph beheld +Eleanor, who was slowly descending the stairs. She was clad in her +bridal dress. The light shone full upon her; she was radiantly +beautiful. She wore a robe of snow-white satin, girdled lightly to her +waist by a string of pearls, and over this a robe of green velvet, +veined with flowers of gold, and open in front from her bosom to her +feet. Her hair was disposed in rich masses about her face, and from its +glossy blackness, and from the pure white of her forehead, a circlet of +diamonds shone dazzlingly in the light. She saw Randolph, and her eyes +spoke although her lips were silent. + +That moment decided her fate and his own. + +As she was halfway down the stairs, he sprang to meet her. + +"Randolph! how pale you are," and she started as she saw his face. + +"Dearest, I must speak with you a moment," he whispered.--"To the +library." + +He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs, and along a +corridor; she noticed that his hand was hot and cold by turns, and she +began to tremble in sympathy with his agitation. + +They came to the door of the library. The lock was turned from the +outside by a key, but when the door was closed it locked itself. +Randolph found the key in the lock; he turned it; the door opened; he +placed the key in his pocket; they crossed the threshold. The door +closed behind them, and was locked at once. Eleanor was ignorant of +this fact. + +The library was a spacious apartment, with two windows opening to +the east, and a ceiling which resembled a dome. The light came dimly +through the closed curtains, but a wood-fire, smouldering on the broad +hearth, which now flamed up, and as suddenly died away, served to +disclose the high walls, lined with shelves, the table in the center +overspread with books and papers, and the picture above the mantle, +framed in dark wood. Two antique arm-chairs stood beside the table; +there was a sofa between the windows, and in each corner of the room, +a statue was placed on a pedestal. The shelves were crowded with huge +volumes, whose gilt bindings, though faded by time, glittered in the +uncertain light. Altogether, as the light now flashed up and died away +again, it was an apartment reminding you of old times,--of ghosts and +specters, may be,--but of anything save the present century. + +"What a ghost-like place!" said Eleanor. + +Randolph led her in silence to the sofa, and seated himself by her side. + +"Eleanor, I am sadly troubled. I have just received a letter which +informs me of a sad disaster which has happened to a friend,--a friend +whom I have known from boyhood." + +Eleanor took his hand. As the light flashed up for an instant, she was +startled at the sight of his face. + +"Compose yourself, Randolph," she said, kindly.--"The news may not be +so disastrous as you think." + +"I will tell you the story in a few words," and he took her hand as he +continued: "A month ago, I left my friend in Charleston. Young, reputed +to be wealthy, certainly connected with one of the first families of +South Carolina, he was engaged in marriage to a beautiful girl,--one +of the most beautiful that sun ever shone upon,--" he paused,--"as +beautiful, Eleanor, as yourself." + +And he fixed his ardent gaze upon that face which the soft shadow, +broken now and then by the uncertain light, invested with new +loveliness. + +Eleanor made no reply in words; but her eyes met those of her plighted +husband. + +"The day was fixed for their marriage,--they looked forward to it +with all the anticipations of a pure and holy love. It came,--the +bride and bridegroom stood before the altar, in presence of the +wedding-guests,--the priest began the ceremony, when a revelation was +made which caused the bride to fall like one dead at the feet of her +abashed and despair-stricken lover." + +"This was, indeed, strange," whispered Eleanor, profoundly interested; +"and this revelation?" + +Randolph drew her nearer to him; his eyes grew deeper in their light, +as in a voice, that grew lower at every word, he continued, + +"The bridegroom was, indeed, connected with one of the first families +in the State, but even as the priest began the ceremony, a voice from +among the guests pronounced these words, 'Shame! shame! a woman so +beautiful to marry a man who has negro blood in his veins!'" + +"And these words,--they were not true?" eagerly asked Eleanor, resting +her hand on Randolph's arm. + +"They were true," answered Randolph. "It was their fatal truth which +caused the bride to fall like a corpse, and covered the face of the +bridegroom with shame and despair." + +Eleanor's bosom heaved above the edge of her bridal robe; her lips +curled with scorn; "And knowing this fatal truth, this lover sought +her hand in marriage? O, shame! shame!" + +"But hear the sequel of the story," Randolph continued, and well it was +for him, at that instant, that no sudden glow from the hearth lit up +his livid and corrugated face,--"What, think you, was the course of the +plighted wife, when she came to her senses?" + +"She spurned from her side this unworthy lover,--she crushed every +thought of love--" + +"No, dearest, no! Even in the presence of her father and the +wedding-guests, she took the bridegroom by the hand, and although her +face was pale as death, said, with a firm eye and unfaltering voice, +'Behold my husband! As heaven is above us, I will wed none but him!'" + +"O, base and shameless! base and shameless!" cried Eleanor, the scorn +of her tone and of her look beyond all power of words,--"to speak thus, +and take by the hand a man whose veins were polluted by the blood of a +thrice accursed race!" + +Randolph raised his hand to his forehead; what thoughts were burning +there, need not be told. Shading his eyes, he saw Eleanor before him, +beautiful and voluptuous, in her bridal robe, her bosom swelling into +view; but with unmeasured scorn in the curve of her proud lip, in the +lightning glance of her eyes. + +And after that gaze, he said in a low voice, the fatal words,-- + +"Eleanor, what would you say, were I to inform you, that my veins are +also polluted by the blood of this thrice accursed race?" + +She did not utter a cry; she did not shriek; but starting from the +sofa, and resting for support one hand against the wall, she turned to +him her horror-stricken face, uttering a single word,--"You?" + +"That I, descended from one of the first families of Carolina, on my +father's side, am on the mother's side, connected with the accursed +race?" + +"You, Randolph, _you_!" + +"That knowing this, I fled from Florence, when first I won your +love; but to-day, dazzled by your beauty, mad with love of the very +atmosphere in which you breathe, I forgot the taint in my blood, I saw +our marriage hour draw nigh, with heaven itself in my heart--" + +"O, my God, why can I not die?" + +"That even now your father knows the fatal secret, and breathes curses +upon me, as he pronounces my name; resolves, that you shall die by his +hand, ere you become my wife--" + +She saw his face, by the sudden light,--it was impressed by a mortal +agony. And although the room seemed to swim around, and her knees bent +under her, she rallied her fast-fading strength, and advanced toward +him, but with tottering steps. + +"You are either mad, or you wish to drive me mad," she said, and laid +her hand upon his shoulder,--"there is no taint upon your blood! The +thought is idle. You, so noble browed, with the look, the voice, the +soul of a man of genius,--you, that I love so madly,--you, one of the +accursed race? No, Randolph, this is but a cruel jest--" + +Her eyes looked all the brighter for the pallor of her face, as she +bent over him, and her hair, escaping from the diamond circlet, fell +over his face and shoulders like a vail. + +He drew her to him, and buried his face upon her bosom,--"Eleanor! +Eleanor," he groaned in very bitterness of spirit, as that bosom beat +against his fevered brow, and that flowing hair shut him in its glossy +waves,--"It is no jest. I swear it. But you will yet be mine! Will you +not, Eleanor,--in spite of everything,--spite of the taint in my blood, +spite of your father's wrath--" + +As with the last effort of her expiring strength, she raised his head +from her bosom, tore herself from his arms, and stood before him, her +hair streaming back from her pallid face, while her right hand was +lifted to heaven-- + +"It is true, then?" and her eyes wore that look, which revealed all the +pride of her nature,--"you are then, one of that accursed race," she +paused, unable to proceed, and stood there with both hands upon her +forehead. "If I ever wed you, may my mother's curse--" + +Randolph rose, the anguish which had stamped his face, suddenly +succeeded by a look which we care not to analyze,--a look which gave a +glow to his pale cheek, a wild gleam to his eyes. "You are faint, my +love," he said, "this will revive you." + +Seizing her by the waist, he placed her kerchief upon her mouth,--a +kerchief which he had raised from the floor, and moistened with liquid +from the silver vial which he carried in his vest pocket. + +"Away! Your touch is pollution!" she cried, struggling in his embrace, +but the effect of the liquid was instantaneous. Even as she struggled +her powers of resistance failed, and the images of a delicious dream, +seemed to pass before her, in soft and rosy light. + +The tall wax candles were lighted in the parlor, and upon a table +covered with a cloth of white velvet was placed a bible and a wreath of +flowers. + +It was the hour of sunset, but the closed curtains shut out the light +of the declining day, and the light of the wax candles disclosed the +spacious apartment, its pictures, statues and luxurious furniture. It +was the hour of the bridal. + +Two persons were seated near each other on one of the sofas. The +preacher who had been summoned to celebrate the marriage,--a grave, +demure man, with a sad face and iron-gray hair. Of course he wore +black clothes and a white cravat. Esther arrayed in snow-white, as the +bridesmaid,--white flowers in her dark hair, and her bosom heaving +dimly beneath lace which reminded you of a flake of new-fallen snow. + +They were waiting for the father, the bridegroom, and the bride. + +"It will be a happy marriage, I doubt not," said the preacher, who had +been gazing out of the corners of his eyes, at the beautiful Esther, +and who felt embarrassed by the long silence. + +But ere Esther could reply, the door was flung abruptly open, and +Bernard Lynn strode into the room. His hat was in his hand; his cloak +hung on his arm. His face was flushed; his brow clouded. Not seeming to +notice the presence of Esther, he advanced to the clergyman,-- + +"Your services will not be needed, sir," he said, with a polite bow, +but with flashing eyes. "This marriage will not take place." + +Esther started to her feet, in complete astonishment. + +Turning to Mr. Hicks, who had followed him into the room, Bernard Lynn +continued, as he flung his cloak over his shoulders, and drew on his +gloves,-- + +"Has the carriage come?" + +"Yes, sir,--" + +"Are our trunks on behind?" + +"Yes, sir,--" + +"Have you called my daughter, and told her that I desired her to put on +her bonnet and cloak, and come to me at once?--" + +"I have sent one of the maids up to her room," said Mr. Hicks, whose +countenance manifested no small degree of astonishment, "but your +daughter is not in her room." + +Mr. Lynn turned his flushed face and clouded brow to Esther,-- + +"Perhaps you will tell my daughter," he said, with an air of insolent +_hauteur_ as though speaking to a servant,--"that I desire her to put +on her things and leave this house with me, immediately--" + +How changed his manner, from the kind and paternal tone, in which he +had addressed her an hour before! + +Esther keenly felt the change, and with her woman's intuition, divined +that a revelation of the fatal truth had been made. Disguising her +emotion, she said, calmly,-- + +"You will direct one of the servants to do your bidding. Your daughter +is doubtless in the library. I saw her going there, with Randolph, only +a few minutes since,--" + +At the name of Randolph, all the rage which shook the muscular frame +of Bernard Lynn, and which he had but illy suppressed, burst forth +unrestrained. + +"What!" he shouted, "with Randolph! The negro! The negro! The slave!" + +"With Randolph, her plighted husband," calmly responded Esther. + +"Negress!" sneered Bernard Lynn, almost beside himself, "where is my +daughter? Will no one call her?" + +"Eleanor is coming," said a low deep voice, and Randolph stood before +the enraged father. He was ashy pale, but there was a light in his eyes +which can be called by no other name than--infernal. + +Even Esther, uttered a cry as she beheld her brother's face. + +"Negro!" muttered Bernard Lynn, regarding Randolph in profound +contempt. + +"Well?" Randolph folded his arms, and steadily returned his gaze. + +"I have, learned the secret in time, sir, in time," continued Bernard +Lynn, "I am about to leave this house--" + +"Well?" again exclaimed Randolph. + +"I have saved her from this horrible match,--" + +"Well?" for the third time replied Randolph, in complete _nonchalance_, +and yet with that infernal light in his eyes. + +A step was heard. Can this be Eleanor, who comes across the threshold, +her dress torn, her bosom bared, her disheveled hair floating about +that face which seems to have been touched by the hand of death? + +Her hands clasped, her eyes downcast, she came on, with unsteady step, +and sank at her father's feet. She did not once raise her eyes, but +clasped his knees and buried her face on her bosom. + +"Eleanor! Eleanor!" cried Bernard Lynn, "what does all this mean, my +child?" and he sought to raise her from the floor, but she resisted +him, and clutched his knees. + +"It means that the honor of your daughter was saved once in Italy, by +Randolph Royalton,--she was grateful, and would have manifested her +gratitude by giving him her hand in marriage, but she could not do +that, for there was_--negro blood_ in his veins. So, as she could not +marry him, she showed her gratitude in the only way left her,--by the +gift of her person without marriage." + +As in a tone of Satanic triumph, Randolph pronounced these words, a +silence like death fell upon the scene. + +Bernard Lynn stood for a moment paralyzed; but Esther came forward with +flashing eyes,--"O, you miserable coward!" she cried, and with her +clenched hand struck her brother,--struck Randolph on the forehead. + +And turning away from him in scorn, she raised Eleanor in her arms. + +Ere he could recover from the surprise which this blow caused him, +Bernard Lynn reached forward, his hands clenched, his dark face purple +with rage. + +"Wretch! for this you shall die,"--and crushed by the very violence of +his rage, his agony, he sank insensible at Randolph's feet. + +"Our marriage ceremony is postponed for the present,--good evening, +sir!" said Randolph, turning to the preacher, who had witnessed this +scene in speechless astonishment. "Mr. Hicks, take care of my friend, +Lynn, here, and have him put to bed; and you, Esther, take care of +Eleanor: and as for myself,"--he turned his back upon them all, and +left the room,--"I think I will go and see my dear brother." + +Up-stairs, with the tortures of the damned in his heart,--up-stairs, +with the infernal light in his eyes,--a moment's pause at the door of +his brother's room,--and then he flings it open and enters. + +Harry Royalton, sitting up in bed, his back against the pillows, was +reading, by a lamp, which stood on a small table, by the bedside. He +was reading the parchment, addressed to his father, as one of the +seven. The light shone on his face, now changed from its usual robust +hue, to a sickly pallor, as with his large bulging eyes, fixed upon +the parchment, he quietly smoked a cigar, and by turns passed his +hands over his bushy whiskers and through his thick curling hair. Weak +from pain and loss of blood, he still enjoyed his cigar. There was a +pleasant complacency about his lips. To-morrow was the twenty-fifth of +December, and to-day--he had foiled all the plans of his slave brother. +Harry was satisfied with himself The smoke of the Havana floated round +him and among the curtains of the bed. It was, take it all in all, a +picture. + +It was in this moment of quiet complacency, that Randolph appeared upon +the scene. Harry looked up,--he caught the glare of his eyes,--and at +once looked about him for a bowie-knife or pistol. But there were no +weapons near. With a cry for help, Harry sprang from the bed, clad as +he was, only in his shirt and drawers. He cried for help, but only +once, for ere he could utter a second cry, there was a hand upon his +throat. + +"I'm not a brother now,--only a slave,--it was as a brother, last +night, I spared and saved you,--now I'm only a slave, a negro! But as a +slave and negro, I am choking you to death!" + +Harry might as well have battled with a thunderbolt. Randolph, with the +madman's fire in his eyes, hears him to the floor, puts his knee upon +his breast, and tightens his clutch upon his throat. And as a gurgling +noise sounded in the throat of the poor wretch, Randolph bent his face +nearer to him, and (to use an all-expressive Scotch word) _glowered_ +upon him with those madman's eyes. + +"This time there must be no mistake, brother. The world is large enough +for many millions of people, but not large enough for us two. You must +go, Harry,--_master_! You are going! Go and tell your father and mine +how you treated the children of Herodia! Go!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE BRIDALS OF JOANNA AND BEVERLY. + + +It was the night of December the twenty-fifth, 1844. + +The mansion of Eugene Livingstone was dark as a tomb. The shutters were +closed, and crape fluttered on the door. + +Within,--in the range of parlors, where, last night, Eugene kissed +good-bye on the lips of his young and beautiful wife, ere he left for +Boston,--where, not an hour after, Beverly Barron came and folded the +young wife to his breast, ere he bore her from her home to a haunt of +shame,--within a single light is burning. One light alone, in the vast +mansion, from foundation to roof. + +It is a wax candle, placed in the front parlor, on a marble table, +between a sofa and mirror, which reaches from the ceiling to the floor. + +Joanna is sitting there alone, her golden hair neatly arranged about +her _blonde_ face; her noble form clad in a flowing robe of snowy +whiteness. She is very beautiful. True, her face is very pale, but her +lips are red and a flush burns on each cheek. True, beneath each eye +a faint blue circle may be traced, but the eyes themselves, blue as +a cloudless sky in June, shine with an intensity that almost changes +their hue into black in the soft, luxurious light. Joanna is very +beautiful,--a woman of commanding form and voluptuous bust,--the loose +robe which she wears, by its flowing folds, gives a new charm, a more +fascinating loveliness to every detail of her figure. + +Holding the evening paper in her right hand, she beats the carpet +somewhat impatiently with her satin-slippered foot. + +Her eye rests upon a paragraph in the evening paper:-- + + "AFFAIR IN HIGH LIFE.--There was a rumor about town, to-day, of an + affair of honor in high life--among the 'upper ten,'--the truth of + which, at the hour of going to press, we are not able, definitely, + to ascertain. The parties named are the elegant and distinguished + B----y B----n, and E----e L----ng----e, a well-known member of the old + aristocracy, in the upper region of the city. A domestic difficulty is + assigned as the cause; and one of the parties is stated to have been + severely, if not mortally, wounded. By to-morrow we hope to be able to + give the full particulars." + +Joanna read this paragraph, and her glance dropped, and she remained +for a long time buried in deep thought. + +"Will he come?" she said at length, as if thinking aloud. + +The silence of the vast mansion was around her, but it did not seem to +fill her with awe. She remained sitting on the sofa, the evening paper +in her hand, and her face impressed with profound thought. + +"Hark!" she ejaculated, as a faint noise was heard in the hall without. +She started, but did not rise from the sofa. + +The door opened stealthily, with scarcely a perceptible sound, and a +man clad in a rough overcoat, with great white buttons, a cap drawn +over his brow, and a red neckerchief wound about the collar of his +coat, came silently into the room and approached Joanna. + +"Who are you?" she cried, as if in alarm,--"Your business here?" + +"Joanna, dearest Joanna," cried a familiar voice, "and has my disguise +deceived you? It deceived the police, but I did not think that it could +deceive you!" + +The overcoat, cap and neckerchief were thrown aside, and in an instant +Beverly Barron was kneeling at Joanna's feet. His tall and not +ungraceful form clad in blue coat, with bright metal buttons, white +vest, black pantaloons, and patent leather boots, he wore a diamond +pin, and a heavy gold chain. His whole appearance was that of a +gentleman of leisure, dressed for the opera or a select evening party. +His face was flushed, his eyes sparkling, and the flaxen curls which +hung about his brow, emitted an odor of cologne or _patchouilli_. + +"I had to come,--I could not stay away from you, dearest," he said, +looking up passionately into her face. "All day long, I have dodged +from place to place, determined to see you to-night or die." + +She gave him her hand, and looking into the opposite mirror, saw that +she was very pale, but still exceedingly beautiful. + +"To risk so much for--my sake," she said, and threaded his curls with +her delicate hand, and at the same time one of those smiles which set +the blood on fire, animated her lips, and disclosed her white teeth. + +"You are beautiful as an angel, I vow," exclaimed Beverly, and then +glancing round the vast apartment,--"Are we all alone?" he asked. + +"Yes, all alone," she replied, "the servants were discharged this +morning,--all, save my maid, and she has retired by my orders." + +"No danger of any one calling?" + +"None." + +"You are sure, dearest?" + +"No one will call. You are safe, and we are alone, Beverly!" again that +smile, and a sudden swell of the bosom. + +"The body,--the body----" + +"Is at my father, the general's,"--she replied to the question before +it passed his lips. + +"Then, indeed, dearest, we are alone, and we can talk of our +future,--_our_ future. We must come to a decision, Joanna, and soon." + +And half raising himself, as she lowered her head, he pressed his kiss +on her lips. + +"O, I do so long to talk with you, Beverly," she murmured. + +"To-morrow, dearest, I will be placed in possession of an immense +fortune. You have heard of the Van Huyden estate?" + +She made a sign in the affirmative. + +"I am the heir of one-seventh of that immense estate. All the obstacles +in the way of the seven heirs (as I was informed to-day) are removed. +To-morrow the estate will be divided; I will receive my portion without +scarcely the chance of disappointment; and next day----" + +He paused; she bent down until he felt her breath on his face,--"Next +day?" she whispered. + +"We will sail for Europe. A palace, in Florence, my love, or in Venice, +or some delightful nook of Sicily, where, apart from the world, in an +atmosphere like heaven, we can live for each other. What say you to +this, Joanna?" + +"But you forget," she faltered, "the recent circumstance,----" her face +became flushed, and then deathly pale. + +"Can you live under your father's eye after what has happened?" he +whispered.--"Think of it,--he will loathe the sight of you, and make +your life a hell!" + +"He will indeed,"--and she dropped her head upon her proud bosom. + +"And your brother,--does he not thirst for my blood?" + +"Ah! does he?" she cried, with a look of alarm. + +"And yet, Joanna, I was forced into it. I did all I could to avoid it. +I even apologized on the ground, and offered to make reparation." + +"You offered to make reparation?" she cried, "that was, indeed, noble!" +and an indescribable smile lighted her features. + +"Joanna, dear, I have suffered so much to-day, that I am really faint. +A glass of that old Tokay, if you please, my love." + +She answered him with a smile, and rising from the sofa, passed +into the darkness of the second parlor, separated from the first by +folding-doors. + +"A magnificent woman, by Jove!" soliloquized Beverly, as he remarked +her noble form. + +After a few moments she appeared again, bearing a salver of solid +gold, on which was placed a decanter and goblet, both of Bohemian +glass,--rich scarlet in color, veined with flowers of purple, and blue, +and gold. + +Never had she seemed more beautiful than when standing before him, she +presented the golden salver, with one of those smiles, which gave a +deeper red to her lips, a softer brightness to her eyes. + +He filled the capacious goblet to the brim--for a moment regarded the +wine through the delicate fabric, with its flowers of blue, and purple, +and gold,--and then drained it at a draught. + +"Ah!"--he smacked his lips,--"that is delicious!" + +"Eugene's father imported it some twenty years ago," said Joanna, +placing the salver on the table. "Come, Beverly, I want to talk with +you." + +Following the bewitching gesture which she made with her half-lifted +hand, Beverly rose, and gently wound his arm about her waist. + +"Come, let us walk slowly up and down these rooms, now in light and now +in darkness, and as we walk we can talk freely to each other." + +And they walked, side by side, over the carpet, through that splendid +_suite_ of rooms, where gorgeous furniture, pictures, statues, all +spoke of luxury and wealth. Hand joined in hand, his arm about her +waist, her head drooping to his shoulder, and her bosom throbbing near +and nearer to his breast, they glided along; now coming near the light +in the front room, and now passing into the shadows which invested the +other rooms. It was a delightful, nay, an intoxicating _tête-à -tête_. + +"I was thinking, this evening," she said, as they passed from the +light, "of the history of our love." + +"Ah, dearest!" + +"It seems an age since we first met, and yet it's only a year." + +"Only a year!" echoed Beverly, as they paused in a nook where a +delicious twilight prevailed. + +"Eugene presented you to me a year ago, as his dearest friend,--his +most tried and trusted friend. Do you remember, Beverly?" + +He drew her gently to him,--there was a kiss and an embrace. + +"You discovered his infidelity. You brought me the letters written +to him by the person in Boston, for whom he proved unfaithful to me. +You brought them from time to time, and it was your sympathy with my +wounded pride,--my trampled affection,--which consoled me and kept me +alive. It was, Beverly." + +"O, you say so, dearest," and as they came into light again, he felt +her breast throbbing nearer to his own. + +For a moment they paused by the table, whereon the wax candle was +burning, its flame reflected in the lofty mirror. Her face half-averted +from the light, as her head drooped on his shoulder, she was +exceedingly beautiful. + +"Beverly," she whispered, and placed her arm gently about his +neck,--the touch thrilled him to the heart,--"you knew me, young, +confiding, ignorant of the world. You took pity on my unsuspecting +ignorance, and day by day, yes hour by hour, in these very rooms, you +led me on, to see the full measure of my husband's guilt, and at the +same time led me to believe in you, and love you." + +She paused, and passed her hand gently among his flaxen curls. + +"Ah, love, you are as good as you are beautiful!" he whispered. + +"Before you spoke thus, I had no thought save of my duty to Eugene." + +"Eugene, who betrayed you!" + +"Yes, to Eugene, who betrayed me, and to my child. After you spoke, +I saw life in a new light. The world did not seem to me, any longer, +to be the scene of dull quiet home-like duty, but of pleasure,--mad, +passionate pleasure,--may be, illicit pleasure, purchased at any cost. +And letter after letter which you brought me, accompanied by proof +which I could not doubt, only served to complete the work,--to wean +me from my idol,--false, false idol, Eugene,--and to teach me that +this world was not so much made for dull every-day duty, as for those +pleasures which, scorning the laws of the common herd, develop into +active life every throb of enjoyment of which we are capable." + +"Yes, yes, love," interrupted Beverly, pressing his lips to hers. + +"And thus matters wore on, until you brought me the last, the damning +letter. He was going to Boston to see his dying brother,--so he +pretended,--but in reality to see the woman for whom he had proved +faithless to me. When you brought me this letter I was mad,--mad,--O, +Beverly----" + +"It was enough to drive you mad!" + +"And yesterday, impelled by some vague idea of revenge, I consented to +go with you to a place, where, as you said, we would see something of +the world,--where, in the excitement of a masked ball, I might forget +my husband's faithlessness, and at the same time show that I did not +care for his authority. Some idea of this kind was in my mind, and +last night when he kissed me, and so coolly lied to me, before his +departure, O, then Beverly, then, I was cut to the quick. You came +after he had gone, and,--and--I went with you--" + +"You did dearest Joanna," said Beverly, pressing her closer to his side. + +They passed from the light into the shadows together. + +"And there, you know what happened there," she said, as they stood +in the darkness. She clung nearer and nearer to him. "But you know, +Beverly, you know, that it was not until my senses were maddened by +wine," her voice grew low and lower,--"that I gave my person to you." + +In the darkness she laid her head upon his breast, and put her arms +about his neck, her bosom all the while throbbing madly against his +chest. + +"O, you know, that in the noble letters, which you wrote to me from +time to time--letters breathing a pure spiritual atmosphere,--you spoke +of your love for me as something far above all common loves, refined +and purified, and separate from all thought of physical impurity. And +yet,--and yet,--last night when half crazed by jealousy, I went with +you to the place which you named, you took the moment, when my senses +were completely delirious with wine, to treat me as though I had been +your wife, as though you had been the father of my child." + +She sobbed aloud, and would have fallen to the floor had he not held +her in his arms. + +"O, Joanna, you vex yourself without cause," he said, soothingly,--"I +love you,--you know I love you--" + +"O, but would it not be a dreadful thing, if you had been deceived in +regard to these letters!" + +"Deceived?" + +"Suppose, for instance, some one had forged them, and imposed them upon +you as veritable letters--" + +"Forged? This is folly my love." + +"In that case, you and I would be guilty, O, guilty beyond power of +redemption, and Eugene would be an infamously murdered man." + +"Dismiss these gloomy thoughts. The letters were true--" + +"O, you are certain,--certain--" + +"I swear it,--swear it by all I hold dear on earth or hope hereafter." + +"O, do not swear, Beverly. Who could doubt _you_?" + +They passed toward the light again. She wiped the tears from her +eyes--those eyes which shone all the brighter for the tears. + +"And the day after to-morrow," said Beverly, as he rested his hand upon +her shoulder,--"we will leave for Italy--" + +"You have been in Italy?" asked Joanna. + +"O, yes dearest, and Italy is only another name for Eden," he replied, +growing warm, even eloquent--"there far removed from a cold, a +heartless world, we will live, we will die together!" + +"Would it not," she said, in a low whisper, as with her hand on +his shoulders and her bosom beating against his own, she looked up +earnestly into his face, "O, would it not be well, could we but die +at this moment,--now, when our love is in its youngest and purest +bloom,--die here on this cold earth, only to live again, and live with +each other in a happier world?" + +And in her emotion, she wound her aims convulsively about his neck and +buried her face upon his breast. + +"Dismiss these gloomy thoughts,"--he kissed her forehead--"there are +many happy hours before us in this world, Joanna. Think not of death--" + +"O, do you know, Beverly," she raised her face,--it was radiant with +loveliness--"that I love to think of death. Death, you know, is such a +test of sincerity. Before it falsehood falls dumb and hypocrisy drops +its mask--" + +"Nay, nay you must dismiss these gloomy thoughts. You know I love +you--you know--" + +He did not complete the sentence, but they passed into the darkness +again, his arms about her waist, her head upon his shoulder. + +And there, in the gloom, he pressed her to his breast, and as she clung +to his neck, whispered certain words, which died in murmurs on her ear. + +"No, no, Beverly," she answered, in a voice, broken by emotion, "it +cannot be. Consider--" + +"Cannot be? And am I not all to you?" he said, impassionately,--"Yes, +Joanna, it must be--" + +There was a pause, only broken by low murmurs, and passionate kisses. + +"Come then," she said, at last, "come, _husband_--" + +Without another word, she took him by the hand, and led him from the +room out into the darkened hall. Her hand trembled very much, as she +led him through the darkness up the broad stairway. Then a door was +opened and together they entered the bed-chamber. + +It is the same as it was last night. Only instead of a taper a wax +candle burns brightly before a mirror. The curtains still fall like +snow-flakes along the lofty windows, the alabaster vase is still filled +with flowers,--they are withered now,--and from the half-shadowed +alcove, gleams the white bed, with curtains enfolding it in a snowy +canopy. + +Trembling, but beautiful beyond the power of words,--beautiful in the +flush of her cheeks, the depth of her gaze, the passion of her parted +lips,--beautiful in every motion of that bosom which heaved madly +against the folds which only half-concealed it,--trembling, she led him +toward the bed. + +"My marriage bed," she whispered, and laid her hand upon the closed +curtains. + +Beverly was completely carried away by the sight of her passionate +loveliness--"Once your marriage bed with a false husband," he said, and +laid his hand also upon the closed curtains, "now your marriage bed +with a true husband, who will love you until death--" + +And he drew aside the curtains. + +Drew aside the curtains, folding Joanna passionately to his breast, +and,--fell back with a cry of horror. Fell back, all color gone from +his face, his features distorted, his paralyzed hands extended above +his head. + +Joanna did not seem to share his terror for she burst into a fit of +laughter. + +"Our marriage bed, love," she said, "why are you so cold?" and again +she laughed. + +But Beverly could not move nor speak. His eyes were riveted to the bed. + +Within the snowy curtains, was stretched a corpse, attired in the +white garment of the grave. Through the parted curtains, the light +shone fully on its livid face, while the body was enveloped in half +shadow,--shone fully on the white forehead with its jet-black hair, +upon the closed lids, and--upon the dark wound between the eyes. The +agony of the last spasm was still upon that face, although the hands +were folded tranquilly on the breast. Eugene Livingstone was sleeping +upon his marriage bed,--sleeping, undisturbed by dreams. + +Joanna stood there, holding the curtain with her uplifted hand, her +eyes bright, her face flushed with unnatural excitement. Again she +laughed loud and long--the echoes of her laughter sounded strangely in +that marriage chamber. + +"What,--what does this mean?" cried Beverly, at last finding words--"is +this a dream----a----" He certainly was in a fearful fright, for he +could not proceed. + +"Why, so cold, love?" she said, smiling, "it is our marriage bed, you +know--" + +"Joanna, Joanna," he cried,--"are you mad?" and in his fright, he +looked anxiously toward the door. + +She took a package from her breast and flung it at his feet. + +"Go," she cried, "but first take up your _forged_ letters--" + +"Forged letters?" he echoed. + +"Forged letters," she answered,--her voice was changed,--her manner +changed,--there was no longer any passion on her face,--pale as marble, +her face rigid as death, she confronted him with a gaze that he dared +not meet. "Go!" she cried, "but take with you your forged letters. Yes, +the letters which you forged, and which you used as the means of my +ruin. You have robbed me of my honor, robbed me of my husband,--your +work is complete--go!" + +Her face was white as the dress which she wore,--she pointed to the +threshold. + +"Joanna, Joanna," faltered Beverly. + +"Not a word, not a word, villain, villain without remorse or shame! I +am guilty, and might excuse myself by pleading your treachery. But +I make no excuse. But for you,--for you,--where is the excuse? You +have dishonored the wife,--made the child fatherless,--your work is +complete! Go!" + +Beverly saw that all his schemes had been unraveled; conscious of his +guilt, and conscious that everything was at an end between him and +Joanna, he made a desperate attempt to rally his usual self-possession; +or, perhaps, impudence would be the better word. + +He moved to the door, and placed his hand upon the lock. + +"Well, madam, as you will," he said, and bowed. "Under the +circumstances, I can only wish you a very good evening." + +He opened the door. + +"Hold!" she cried in a voice that made him start.--"Your work is +complete, but so, also, is mine--" + +She paused; her look excited in him a strange curiosity for the +completion of the sentence. "You will not long enjoy your triumph. You +have not an hour to live. The wine which you drank was poisoned." + +Beverly's heart died in him at these words. A strange fever in his +veins, a strange throbbing at the temples, which he had felt for an +hour past, and which he had attributed to the excitement resulting from +the events of the day, he now felt again, and with redoubled force. + +"No,--no,--it is not so," he faltered.--"Woman, you are mad,--you had +not the heart to do it." + +"Had not the heart?" again she burst into a loud laugh,--"O, no, I was +but jesting. Look here,"--she darted to the bed, flung the curtain +aside, and disclosed the lifeless form of her husband,--"and here!" +gliding to another part of the room, she gently drew a cradle into +light, and throwing its silken covering aside, disclosed the face of +her sleeping child,--that cherub boy, who, as on the night previous, +slept with his rosy cheek on his bent arm, and the ringlets of his +auburn hair tangled about his forehead, white as alabaster. "And now +look upon me!" she dilated before him like a beautiful fiend; "we are +all before you,--the dead husband, the dishonored wife, the fatherless +child,--and yet I had not the heart,"--she laughed again. + +Beverly heard no more. Uttering a blasphemous oath, he rushed from the +room. + +And the babe, awakened by the sound of voices, opened its clear, +innocent eyes, and reached forth its baby hands toward its mother. + +Urged forward by an impulse like madness, Beverly entered the rooms on +the first floor, seized the rough overcoat and threw it on, passing the +red neckerchief around its collar, to conceal his face. Then drawing +the cap over his eyes, he hurried from the house. + +"It's all nonsense," he muttered, and descended the steps.--"I'll walk +it off." + +Walk it off! And yet the fever burned the more fiercely, his temples +throbbed more madly, as he said the words. Leaving behind him the +closed mansion of Eugene Livingstone, with the crape fluttering on the +door, he bent his steps toward Broadway. + +"I'm nervous," he muttered.--"The words of that dev'lish hysterical +woman have unsettled me. How cold it is!" He felt cold as ice for a +moment, and the next instant his veins seemed filled with molten fire. + +He hurried along the dark street toward Broadway. The distant lights at +the end of the street, where it joined Broadway, seemed to dance and +whirl as he gazed upon them; and his senses began to be bewildered. + +"I've drank too much," he muttered.--"If I can only reach Broadway, and +get to my hotel, all will be right." + +But when he reached Broadway, it whirled before him like a great sea +of human faces, carriages, houses and flame, all madly confused, and +rolling through and over each other. + +The crowd gave way before him, as he staggered along. + +"He's drunk," cried one. + +"Pitch into me that way ag'in, old feller, and I'll hit you," cried +another. + +It was Christmas Eve, and Broadway was alive with light and motion; the +streets thronged with vehicles, and the sidewalks almost blocked up +with men, and women, and children; the lamps lighted, and the shops and +places of amusement illuminated, as if to welcome some great conqueror. +But Beverly was unconscious of the external scene. His fashionable +dress, concealed by his rough overcoat, and his face hidden by his cap +and red neckerchief, he staggered along, with his head down and his +hands swaying from side to side. There was a roaring as of waves or of +devouring flame in his ears. A red haze was before his eyes; and the +scenes of his whole life came up to him at once, even as a drowning +man sees all his life, in a focus, before the last struggle,--there +were the persons he had known, the adventures he had experienced, the +events of his boyhood, and the triumphs and shames of his libertine +manhood,--all these came up to him, and confronted him as he hurried +along. Three faces were always before him,--the dead face of Eugene, +the pale visage of Joanna, her eyes flaming with vengeance, and,--the +innocent countenance of his motherless daughter. + +And thus he hurried along. + +"Old fellow, the stars'll be arter you," cried one in the crowd, +through which he staggered on. + +"My eyes! ain't he drunk?" + +"Don't he pay as much attention to one side o' the pavement as the +tother?" + +"Did you ever see sich worm fence as he lays out?" + +There was something grotesquely horrible in the contrast between his +real condition, and the view which the crowd took of it. + +At length, not knowing whither he went, he turned from the glare and +noise of Broadway into a by-street, and hurried onward,--onward, +through the gloom, until he fell. + +In a dark corner of the street, behind the Tombs, close to the stones +of that gloomy pile, he fell, and lay there all night long, with no +hand to aid him, no eye to pity him. + +He was found, on Christmas morning, stiff and cold; his head resting +against the wall of the Tombs, his body covered with new-fallen snow. A +pile of bricks lay on one side of him, a heap of boards on the other. +This was the death-couch of the dashing Beverly Barron! + +How he died, no one could tell; it was supposed that he had poisoned +himself from remorse at the death of Eugene Livingstone. + + * * * * * + +As Beverly hurried from the room, the babe in the cradle opened its +clear, innocent eyes, and reached forth its baby hands toward its +mother. + +She took it, and stilled it to rest upon her bosom: and then came to +the bed and sat down upon it, near her dead husband. + +"Eugene, Eugene!" she gently put her hand upon his cold forehead,--"let +me talk to you,--I will not wake you,--let me talk to you, as you +sleep. I am guilty, Eugene, you know I am,--you cannot forgive me,--I +do not ask forgiveness; but you'll let me be near you, Eugene? You +will not spurn me from you? This is our child, Eugene,--don't you +know him?--O, look up and speak to him. Don't,--don't be angry with +him,--his mother is a poor, fallen fallen thing, but don't be angry +with our child!" + +She did not weep. Her eyes, large and full of light, were fixed upon +her husband's face. Cradling her babe upon her bosom, she sat there all +night long, talking to Eugene, in a low, whispering voice, as though +she wished him to hear her, and yet was afraid to awake him from a +pleasant slumber. The light went out, but still she did not move. She +was there at morning light, her baby sleeping on her breast, and her +hand laid upon her dead husband's forehead. + +And at early morning light, her father came,--the gray-haired man,--his +face frowning, and his heart full of wrath against his daughter. + +"What do you here?" he said, sternly. "This is no place for you. There +is to be an inquest soon. You surely do not wish to look upon the ruin +you have wrought?" + +As though she was conscious of his presence, but had not heard his +words, she turned her face over her shoulder,--that colorless face, +lighted by eyes that still burned with undimmed luster,--and said,-- + +"Do you know, father. I have been talking with Eugene, and he has +forgiven me!" + +The voice, the look melted the old man's heart. + +He fell upon the bed, and wept. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +AN EPISODE. + +Here, my friend, let us take a breathing spell in this, our dark +history. Horrors crowd fast and thick upon us,--horrors, not born of +romance, but of that under-current of real life, which rolls on +evermore, beneath the glare and uproar of the Empire City. We do not +wish to write them down,--shudder sometimes and drop the pen as we +describe them,--and ask ourselves, "Can these things really be? Is +not the world all song and sunshine? Does that gilded mask which we +call by the name of Civilization,--the civilization of the nineteenth +century,--only hide the features of a corpse?" And the answer to these +queries comes to us in the columns of every daily paper; in the record +of every day's farces and crimes; in the _unwritten_ history of those +masses, who, while we write, are slowly serving their apprenticeship +of hardship and starvation, in order that at last they may inherit +a--grave. + +Ah, it is the task of the author who writes a book, traversing a field +so vast as is attempted in the present work, not to exaggerate, but to +soften, the perpetual tragedies of every day. He dares not tell all +the truth; he can only vaguely hint at those enormous evils which are +the inevitable result,--not of totally depraved human nature, for such +a thing never existed,--but of a social system, which, false alike to +God and man, does perpetually _tempt_ one portion of the human race +with immense wealth, as it _tempts_ another portion with immeasurable +poverty. + +But let us leave these dark scenes for a little while. Let us breathe +where crime does not poison the air. It is June, and the trees are +in full leaf, and through canopies of green leaves, the brooks are +singing their summer song. Come out with me into the open country, +where every fleeting cloud that turns its white bosom to the sun, as it +skims along the blue, shall remind us, not of crime and blood, but of +thankfulness to God, that summer is on the land, and that we are alive. +Come,--without object, save to drink at some wayside spring,--without +hope, other than to lose ourselves among the summer boughs,--let us +take a stroll together. + +Out in the country, near a dusty turnpike, and a straight, hot railroad +track,--but we'll leave the turnpike, which is well scattered with +young gentlemen in high shirt-collars, who drink clouds of dust, and +drive hired horses to death,--and we'll leave the railroad where the +steam engine, like a tired devil, comes blowing and swearing, with red +coals in its mouth, and a cloud of brimstone smoke about its head. +We'll climb the rails of yonder gray old fence, and get us straightway +into the fields; not much have we to show you there. A narrow path +winds among tangled bushes and clumps of dwarfed cedar trees; it shows +us, here a grassy nook, hidden in shade, and there a rough old rock, +projecting its bald head in the sun; and then it goes winding down and +down, until you hear the singing of the brook. Where that brook comes +from, you cannot tell; yonder it is hidden under a world of leaves; +here it sinks from view under a bridge curiously made up of stone, and +timber, and sod; a little to your right it comes into light, dashing +over cool rocks and forming little lakes all over beds of smooth gray +sand. Follow the path and cross the bridge; we stand in the shade +of trees, that are scattered at irregular intervals, along the side +of a hill. Here a willow near the brook, with rank grass about its +trunks; there a poplar with a trunk like a Grecian column, and leaves +like a canopy; and farther on, a mass of oaks, chesnuts, and maples, +grouped together, their boughs mingling, and a thicket of bushes and +vines around their trunks. So you see, we stand at the bottom of an +amphitheater, one side of which is forest, the other low brushwood; +beyond the brushwood, a distant glimpse of another forest, and in the +center of the scene, the hidden brooklet singing its June-day song. + +You look above, and the blue sky is set in an irregular frame of +leaves,--leaves now shadowed by a cloud, and now dancing in the sun. + +Let us stretch ourselves upon this level bit of sod, where all is shade +and quiet, and---- + +Think? No, sir. Do not think that there is such a creature as a bad +man, or a crime in the world. But drink the summer air,--drink the +freshness of foliage and flowers,--lull yourself with the song of the +brook,--look at the blue sky, and feel that there is a God, and that he +is good. + +You may depend you will feel better after it. If you don't, why, it is +clear that your mind is upon bank stock, or politics,--and there's not +much hope of you. + +Thus, stretched in the shade, at the bottom of this leafy amphitheater, +you'll wrap yourself in summer, and forget the world, which, beyond +that wall of trees, is still at its old work,--swearing, lying, +fretting, loving, hating, and rushing on all the while at steam-engine +speed. + +You won't care who's President, or who robbed the treasury of half +a million dollars. You'll forget that there is a Pope who washed +his hands in the blood of brave men and heroic women. You'll not be +anxious about the rate of stock; whether money is tight or easy, shall +not trouble you one jot. Thus resting quietly at the bottom of your +amphitheater in the country, you'll feel that you are in the church of +God, which has sky for roof, leaves for walls, grassy sod for floor, +and for music,--hark! Did you ever hear organ or orchestra that could +match _that_? The hum of bees, the bubble of brooks, the air rustling +among the leaves, all woven together, in one dreamy hymn, that melts +into your soul, and takes you up to heaven, quick as a sunbeam flies! + +And when the sun goes behind the trees, and the dell is filled with +broad gleams of golden light and deep masses of shade, you may watch +the moon as she steals into sight, right over your head, in the very +center of the glimpse of blue sky. You may hear the low murmur which +tells you that the day's work is almost done, and that the solemn night +has come to wrap you in her stillness. + +And ere you leave the dell, just give one moment of thought to those +you love, whose eyes are shut by the graveyard sod,--think of them, +not as dead, but as living and beautiful among those stars,--and then +taking the path over the brook, turn your steps to the world again. + +Hark! Here it comes on the steam-engine's roar and whistle,--that +bustling, hating, fighting world, which, like the steam-engine, rushes +onward, with hot coals at its heart, and a brimstone cloud above it. + + + + +PART SEVENTH. + +THE DAY OF TWENTY-ONE YEARS. + +DECEMBER 25, 1844. + + +CHAPTER I. + +MARTIN FULMER APPEARS. + + +The time was very near. The cycle of twenty-one years was in its last +hour. It was the last hour of December twenty-fourth, 1844. That hour +passed, the twenty-one years would be complete. + +Darkness and storm were upon the Empire City. The snow fell fast, and +the wind, howling over the river and the roofs, made mournful music +among the arches of unfinished Trinity Church. In the gloom, amid the +falling snow, four persons stood around the family vault of the Van +Huydens. Even had the storm and darkness failed to cover them from +observation, they would have been defended from all prying eyes, by the +crape masks which they wore. The marble slab bearing the name of "VAN +HUYDEN," was thrust aside, and from the gloom of the vault beneath, +the coffin was slowly raised into view; the coffin which was inscribed +with the name of Gulian Van Huyden, and with the all-significant dates, +December 25th, 1823, and December 25th, 1844. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile, even as the blast howls along the deserted street, let +us enter the mansion of Ezekiel Bogart, which, as you are aware, +stands, with its old time exterior, alone and desolate, amid the huge +structures devoted to traffic. + +In the first of the seven vaults,--square in form, and lined with +shelves from the ceiling to the floor,--Ezekiel Bogart sits alone. The +hanging lamp diffuses its mild beams around the silent place. Ezekiel +is seated in the arm-chair, by the table, his form enveloped in the +wrapper or robe of dark cloth lined with scarlet. The dark skull-cap +covers the crown of his head; his eyes are hidden by huge green +glasses, and the large white cravat envelopes his throat and the lower +part of his face. Leaning forward, his elbow on the table, and his +cheek upon his hand, which, veined and sinewy, is white as the hand of +a corpse, Ezekiel Bogart is absorbed in thought. + +"I have not seen Gaspar Manuel since last night;" he utters his +thoughts aloud. "This, indeed, is singular! The hour of the final +settlement is near, and something definite must be known in regard to +the lands in California, near the mission of San Luis. What can have +prevented him from seeing me the second time? Can he have met with an +accident?" + +He rang the bell which lay near his hand; presently, in answer to the +sound, the aged servant appeared; the same who admitted Gaspar Manuel +last night, and whose spare form is clad in gray livery, faced with +black. + +"Michael, you remember the foreign gentleman, Gaspar Manuel, who was +here last night?" + +"That very pale man, with long hair, and such dark eyes? Yes, sir." + +"You are sure that he has not called here to-day?" + +"Sure, sir. I have not laid eyes upon him since last night." + +"It is strange!" continued Ezekiel Bogart,--"You have attended to all +my directions, Michael?" + +"The banquet-room is prepared as you ordered it, and all your other +commands have been carefully obeyed," answered Michael. + +"This will be a busy night for you, Michael. From this hour until four +in the morning, yes, until daybreak, you will wait in the reception +room below, and admit into the house the persons whose names you will +find on this card." + +Michael advanced and took the card from the hand of his master. + +"These persons,--these only,--mark me, Michael," continued Ezekiel, +in a tone of significant emphasis. "And as they arrive, show them +up-stairs, into the small apartment, next the banquet-room. Tell each +one, as he arrives, that I will see him at four o'clock." + +Michael bowed, and said, "Just as you direct, I will do." + +"One of the persons, however, John Hoffman, otherwise called +Ninety-One, I wish to see as soon as he arrives. Bring him to this room +at once. You remember him, a stout, muscular man, with a scarred face?" + +"I do. He was here with you a few hours since." + +"There is another of the persons named on that card, whom you will +bring to this room at once; Gaspar Manuel, who was here last night. +Remember, Michael." + +Michael bowed in token of assent, and was about to leave the room, when +Ezekiel called him back, + +"About midnight, four persons, having charge of a box, will come to the +door and ask for me. Take charge of the box, Michael, and dismiss them. +Have the box carried up into the banquet-room. You can now retire, +Michael. I know that you will attend faithfully to all that I have +given you to do." + +"You may rely upon me, sir," said the tried servant, and retired from +the room. + +And, once more alone, Ezekiel rested his cheek on his hand, and again +surrendered himself to thought. + +"The child of Gulian _must_ be found; Ninety-One cannot fail. If he +is not found before four o'clock, all is lost--all is lost! Yes, if +that child does not appear, this estate,--awful to contemplate in its +enormous wealth,--will pass from his grasp, and the labor of twenty-one +years will have been spent for nothing. The estate will pass into the +hands of the seven, not one of whom will use his share for anything but +the gratification of his appetites or the oppression of his kind." + +The old man rose, the light shone over his tall figure, bent by age, +as, placing his hands behind his back, he paced to and fro along the +floor. He was deeply troubled. An anxiety, heavier than death, weighed +down his soul. + +"The seven,--look at them! Dermoyne is a poor shoemaker. This wealth +will intoxicate and corrupt him. Barnhurst, a clerical voluptuary,--he +will use his share to gratify his monomania. Yorke, a swindler, who +grows rich upon fraud,--his share will enable him to plunge hundreds +of the wealthiest into utter ruin, and convulse, to its center, the +whole world of commerce and of industry. Barron,--a fashionable +sensualist,--he will surround himself with a harem. Godlike, a +Borgia,--an intellectual demon,--his share will create a world of +crimes. Harry Royalton, a sensualist, though of a different stamp from +the others, will expend his in the wine-cup and at the gambling-table. +There are six of the seven,--truly a worthy company to share the +largest private estate in the world! As for the seventh, he has gone to +his account." + +Thus meditating, Ezekiel Bogart, slowly paced the floor. He paused +suddenly, for a thought full of consequences, the most vital, flashed +over his soul. + +"What if Martin Fulmer should refuse to divide the estate? Alas! alas! +his oath,"--he pressed his hand against his forehead,--"his oath made +to Gulian Van Huyden, in his last hour, will crush the very thought of +such a refusal. The Will must be obeyed; yes, strictly, faithfully, to +the letter, in its most minute details." + +Once more resuming his walk, he continued,-- + +"But the child will be discovered,--the child will be here at the +appointed hour." + +He spoke these words in a tone of profound conviction. + +"I trust in Providence; and Providence will not permit this immense +wealth to pass into the hands of those who will abuse it, and make of +it the colossal engine of human misery." + +After a moment of silent thought, he continued,-- + +"No,--no,--this wealth cannot pass into the hands of the seven! When +Gulian, in his last hour, intrusted it to Martin Fulmer, bequeathing +it, after the lapse of twenty-one years, to seven persons, in different +parts of the union, he doubtless thought that chance, to say nothing of +Providence, would find among the number at least four with good hearts +and large mental vision. He did not think,--he did not dream, that at +least five out of the seven would prove totally unworthy of his hopes, +altogether unfit to possess and wield such an incredible wealth. And, +believing in Providence, I cannot think, for a moment, that He will +permit this engine of such awful power to pass into hands that will use +it to the ruin and the degradation of the human race. The child will +appear, and God will bless that child." + +A sound pealed clear and distinct throughout the mansion. It was +the old clock in the hall, striking the hour. Ezekiel stood as if +spell-bound, while the sounds rolled in sad echoes through the mansion. + +It struck the hour of twelve. The cycle of twenty-one years was +complete. + +The old man sank on his knees, and burying his face in his hands, sent +up his soul, in a voiceless prayer. + +"Come what will, this matter must be left to the hands of Providence," +he said, in a low voice, as he rose. "If the child does not appear at +four o'clock, Martin Fulmer has no other course, than to divide this +untold wealth among such of the seven as are present. Before morning +light his trust expires. But,--but,--" and he pressed his clenched +hands nervously together,--"the child _will_ appear." + +Taking up a silver candlestick, he lighted the wax candle which it +held, and went, in silence, through the seven vaults, (described in a +previous chapter) which contained the title-deeds, a portion of the +specie, and the secret police records of the Van Huyden estate. + +As he passed from silent vault to silent vault, not a word escaped his +lips. + +He was thinking of the incredible wealth, whose evidences were all +around him,--of the awful power which that wealth would confer upon +its possessors,--of Nameless, or Carl Raphael, the son of Gulian Van +Huyden,--of the appointed hour, now close at hand. + +"What if Martin Fulmer should burn every title-deed and record +here,"--he held the light above his head, as he surveyed the +vault,--"thus leaving the estate in the hands of the ten thousand +tenants who now occupy its houses and lands? These parchments once +destroyed, every tenant would be the virtual owner of the house or lot +of land which he now occupies. This would create, in fact, ten thousand +_proprietors_,--perhaps twenty thousand,--instead of seven heirs." + +It was a great thought,--a thought which, carried into action, would +have baptized ten thousand hearts with peace, and filled thrice ten +thousand hearts with joy unspeakable. But---- + +"It cannot be. Martin Fulmer must keep his oath. The rest is for +Providence." + +He returned to the first room, or vault, and from a drawer of the +table, drew forth a bundle of keys. + +"I will visit _those rooms_," he said, "and in the meantime Ninety-One +will arrive with Carl Raphael." + +Light in hand, he left the room, and passed along a lofty corridor with +panneled walls. As the light shone over his tall figure, bent with age, +and enveloped in a dark robe lined with scarlet, you might have thought +him the magician of some old time story, on his way to the cell of +his most sacred vigils, had it not been for his skull-cap, huge green +glasses, and enormous white cravat; these imparted something grotesque +to his appearance, and effectually concealed his features, and the +varying expressions of his countenance. + +He placed a key in the lock of a door. It was the door of a chamber +which no living being had entered for twenty-one years. Ezekiel seemed +to hesitate ere he crossed the threshold. At length, turning the key in +the lock,--it grated harshly,--he pushed open the door,--he crossed the +threshold. + +A sad and desolate place! Once elegant, luxurious; the very abode of +voluptuous wealth, it was now sadder than a tomb. The atmosphere was +heavy with the breath of years. The candle burned but dimly as it +encountered that atmosphere, which, for twenty-one years, had not known +a single ray of sunlight, a single breath of fresh air. A grand old +place with lofty walls, concealed by tapestry,--three windows looking +to the street (they had not been opened for twenty-one years) adorned +with curtains of embroidered lace, a bureau surmounted by an oval +mirror, chairs of dark mahogany, a carpet soft as down, and a couch +enshrined in an alcove, with silken curtains and coverlet and pillow, +yet bearing the impress of a human form. A grand old place, but there +was dust everywhere; everywhere dust, the breath of years, the wear and +tear of time. You could not see your face in the mirror; the cobwebs +covered it like a vail. You left the print of your footsteps upon the +downy carpet. The purple tapestry, was purple no longer; it was black +with dust, and the moth had eaten it into rags. The once snow-white +curtains of the windows, were changed to dingy gray, and the canopy of +the couch, looked anything but pure and spotless, as the light fell +over its folds. + +Did Ezekiel Bogart hesitate and tremble as he approached that couch? + +He held the light above his head,--and looked within the couch. Silken +coverlet and downy pillow, covered with dust, and bearing still the +impress of the form which had died there twenty-one years ago. + +"Alice Van Huyden!" ejaculated Ezekiel Bogart, as though the dead one +was present, listening to his every word,--"Here, twenty-one years ago, +you gave birth to your son, and,--died. Yes, here you gave life to that +son,--Carl Raphael Van Huyden I must call him,--who, once condemned +to death,--then buried beside you in the family vault,--then for two +years the tenant of a mad-house, will at four o'clock, appear and take +possession of his own name, and of the estate of his father!" + +Turning from the bed, Ezekiel approached the bureau. The mirror was +thick with dust, and in front of it stood an alabaster candlestick--the +image of a dancing nymph,--now alas! looking more like ebony than +alabaster. It held a half-burned waxen candle. + +"That candle, when lighted last, shone over the death agonies of Alice +Van Huyden." + +Up and down that place, whose very air breathed heart-rending memories, +the old man walked, his head sinking low and lower on his breast at +every step. + +He paused at length before a portrait, covered with dust. Standing on +a chair, Ezekiel with the purple tapestry, brushed the dust away from +the canvas and the walnut frame. The portrait came out into light, +so fresh, so vivid, so life-like, that Ezekiel stepped hastily from +the chair as though the apparition of one long dead, had suddenly +confronted him. + +It was a portrait of a manly face, shaded by masses of brown hair. +There was all the hope of young manhood, in the dark eyes, on the +cheeks rounded with health, and upon the warm lips full of life and +love. A fresh countenance; one that you would have taken at sight for +the countenance of a man of true nobility of heart and soul. It was the +portrait of Gulian Van Huyden at twenty-one. + +For a long time Ezekiel Bogart lingered silently in front of the +portrait. + +At last he left the chamber, locked the door,--first pausing to look +over his shoulder toward the bed upon which Alice Van Huyden died,--and +then slowly ascended to the upper rooms of the old mansion. + + * * * * * + +He came into a small chamber panneled with oak; an oaken pillar, +crowned with carved flowers, and satyr faces in every corner; and a +death's head grinning from the center of the oaken ceiling. Once the +floor, the walls, the ceiling and the pillars, had shone like polished +steel, but now they were black with dust. + +Holding the light above his skull-cap, Ezekiel silently surveyed the +scene. + +Two tressels stood in the center of the floor. These were the only +objects to break the monotony of the dust-covered floor and walls. + +Upon these tressels, twenty-one years before, had been placed a coffin, +inscribed with the name of Gulian Van Huyden, and the dates,--December +25th, 1823, and December, 25th, 1844. + +Opposite these tressels, a panel had recently been removed, disclosing +a cavity or recess in the wall. In the recess the iron chest had been +buried twenty-one years before. It was vacant now,--the iron chest was +gone. + +As the light shone around this place, whose every detail was linked +with the past, the breast of Ezekiel Bogart heaved with emotion, but no +word passed his lips. He lingered there a long time. + +Through the confined doorway, he passed into the garret nook, whose +roof was formed by the slope of the heavy rafters, which now were +hung with cobwebs, while a small window, with heavy frame and narrow +panes, shook to the impulse of the winter wind. A mahogany desk and an +old-fashioned arm-chair, stand between the door and the window. + +"Here Gulian and Martin Fulmer held their last interview," soliloquized +Ezekiel, as he stood alone in the dreary garret,--"there stood Gulian, +there knelt Martin, as he took the oath. Fifteen minutes afterward, +Gulian was a corpse, and Martin was loaded with the awful trust, which +he has borne alone for twenty-one years." + +He approached the window. All was dark without. Sleet and snow beat +against the window-pane. The wind howled dismally over the roof; the +storm was abroad over the city and the bay. + +"From this window he saw Manhattan Bay, and the spire of old Trinity. +Yes, from this window, he pointed out to Martin Fulmer, the windows +of the Banquet-room, in the western wing of the mansion, as they +shone with the glad light of the Christmas Festival. It is Christmas +again,--once more the windows of the banquet-room are lighted,--yes, +I can see the lights glimmering through the storm, but not for a +festival. Ah me! what years have passed since those windows were +lighted for a festival." + +Sadly Ezekiel Bogart left the garret, and descending the narrow +staircase, and passing a corridor, made the best of his way toward +the lower rooms of the mansion. Impressed to his very soul, with +the _consciousness_ that he would soon behold the son of Gulian Van +Huyden--Carl Raphael--he entered the first of the seven vaults, where +the hanging lamp still shone upon the arm-chair, the shelved walls, and +the huge table overspread with papers. + +Seating himself in the arm-chair, he rang the bell. It was not long +before the aged servant appeared. + +"Has John Hoffman, otherwise called Ninety-One, arrived?" + +"No, Sir." + +"This, indeed, is strange, very strange!" ejaculated Ezekiel, much +agitated, "and Gaspar Manuel--has he been here?" + +"No, sir," answered Michael, "the four persons with the box have been +here, and that is all. I had the box carried into the banquet-room." + +At a sign from Ezekiel, the aged servant retired. + +"Altogether strange! The seven were notified by letter, and by a +carefully worded advertisement in the daily papers, of the _place_ and +_hour_ of meeting. And not one arrived! What if they should not appear?" + +The sound of the old clock disturbed his meditations. +One,--two,--three! He had passed three hours in wandering through the +old mansion. Only a single hour remained. + +"Three hours gone!" Ezekiel started from his chair, "no word of +Ninety-One, Gaspar Manuel, or the seven! It may be," and he felt a +strange hope kindling in his heart, "that the night will pass and not +one of the seven appear!" + +The words had not passed his lips, when a heavy footstep was heard in +the corridor, and the door was flung open. A stout muscular form came +rapidly to the light. It was Ninety-One. His garments were covered +with snow, and there were stains of blood upon his scarred face. From +beneath his shaggy eyebrows, knit in a settled frown, his eyes shone +with a ferocious glare. + +"What news?" ejaculated Ezekiel. + +Ninety-One struck his clenched hand upon the table, and gave utterance +to a blasphemous oath. + +"News? Hell's full of sich news! Only to think of it! It's enough to +set a man to wishin' himself safe in jail again. 'Don't give it up so +easy!' That's what I've said all along. An' I have _not_ give it up +easy, nayther. And now what's it come to?" + +"The Boy,--the son of Gulian Van Huyden," cried Ezekiel, resting his +hands upon the table. + +Ninety-One sank into a chair and wiped the blood from his face. + +"You know I tracked the boy all day until I found his quarters in the +four story buildin', whar there was a dead man?--" + +"Yes,--yes,--and you came and told me that you had found his home. The +people in the room adjoining the one which he occupies, informed you +that he had gone out with the young girl, but that he would shortly +return. You came and told me, and then went back to his room to await +his return, taking with you a letter from me--" + +"I went back, and waited, and waited, havin' no company but the dead +man, until dark. Then I sallied out, and went to the house, where we +all was last night. I'd a hard time to get in, but git in I did,--and +jist too late--" + +"Too late?--" + +"The boy and the gal had been thar, and they'd jist gone. One of the +folks in livery show'd me which way,--'down the street toward the +river, and only five minutes ago,' says he. Down the street I put, and +by this time the snow was fallin' and the wind blowin' a harrycane. +Down the street I put, and when I came near the river, I heer'd a woman +cry out, 'help! murder!' Mind, I tell you, I lost no time, but made +straight for the pier, an' thar I find the gal, wringin' her hands an' +p'intin' to the river--" + +"And the boy--the son of Gulian?--" + +"Four fellers had come behind him, as he was about turnin' into the +street in which he lived,--they had dragged him from her,--she follered +them on to the pier, cryin', 'help! murder!' and they'd tied him, +and put him into a boat and made out into the river. As she told me +this story, I looked about me for a boat,--thar wasn't a boat to be +seen,--so I detarmined to jump in and swim arter 'em anyhow, though the +river was full of ice and the wind a-blowin' like Lucifer--" + +"You leaped into the river?" + +"No, I did not. For as the gal stood cryin', an' moanin', an' p'intin', +out into the dark thick night, the boat came back, and the four gallus +birds jumped on the wharf--" + +"And the child,--O, my God! the son of Gulian?--" + +"They'd hove him overboard!" + +The old man uttered a heart-rending groan, and raised his hands to +heaven. + +"Fatality!" he cried. + +"I made at 'em at once,--and we j'ined in, four to one, teeth an' +toe nails. 'Don't give it up so easy!' I said, but what's the use o' +talkin'? I broke a jaw for one of 'em an' _caved the crust in_ for +another; but I wa'n't a match for slung-shot behind the ear. They +knocked me stoopid. An' when I opened my eyes again, I found myself in +their hands, arrested on the charge o' havin' murdered young Somers, +an' o' robbin' Isr'el Yorke. They tied me, took me to a room up town, +whar they war j'ined by Blossom,--they tried to gouge money out o' me, +but as I hadn't any, it wa'n't so easy. When they got tired o' that, +I purtended to sleep, an' overheer'd their talk. The hansum Colonel, +Tarleton, my pertikler friend, had hired the four to waylay _the boy_, +and carry him out into the river. Blossom didn't know anythin' about +it; he swore like a fiery furnace when they told him of it. Arter a +while, as I found they were goin' to take me to the Tombs if they +couldn't git any money out o' me, I broke for the door, and came away +in a hurry, an' here I am." + +"And the child of Gulian is gone! Fatality! Fatality!" groaned Ezekiel +Bogart. + +"In the river,--tied and gagged,--in the river," sullenly replied +Ninety-One; and the next moment he uttered a wild cry and leaped to his +feet. + +Ezekiel Bogart had removed the skullcap, the green glasses and the huge +cravat. In place of a countenance obscured by a grotesque disguise, +appeared a noble face, a broad forehead, rendered venerable by masses +of snow-white hair. His beard, also white as snow, left bare the +outlines of his massive chin and descended upon his breast. And sunken +deep beneath his white eyebrows, his large eyes shone with the light of +a great intellect, a generous heart. It was indeed a noble head. True, +his mouth was large, and the lips severely set, his large nose bent +to one side, his cheek-bones high and prominent, but the calm steady +light of his eyes, the bold outlines of his forehead,--stamped with +thought, with genius,--gave character to his entire face, and made its +very deviations from regularity of feature, all the more impressive and +commanding. + +"It is the Doctor!" cried Ninety-One. "Yer ha'r is white and thar's +wrinkles about yer mouth an' eyes, but I know you, Doctor Martin +Fulmer." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE SEVEN ARE SUMMONED. + + +It was, in truth, that singular man, who in the course of our +narrative, has appeared as the Judge of the Court of Ten Millions as +the "man in the surtout, with manifold capes," as Ezekiel Bogart, the +General Agent; and who, at length, appears in his own character,--Dr. +Martin Fulmer, the trustee of the Van Huyden estate. + +"Be silent, John,"--the Doctor rose and gently waved his hand,--his +bent form for a moment became straight and erect,--his attitude +was noble and impressive. "The child whom, twenty-one years ago, +Gulian Van Huyden intrusted to your care, has, this night,--even as +the misfortunes of long years were about to be succeeded by peace, +security, the possession of unbounded wealth,--met his death at the +instigation of Gulian's brother. Be silent, John, for the shadow of +almighty fate is passing over us! It was to be, and it was! Who shall +resist the decrees of Providence? Behold! the fabric which I have spent +twenty-one years to build, is dust and ruins at my feet!" + +There was the dignity of despair in his tone, his look, his every +attitude. + +He slowly moved toward the door.--"Remain here, John, until morning. +I may want the aid of your arm. The worst has fallen upon me," he +continued, as though speaking to himself, "and nothing now remains but +to fulfill the last conditions of my trust, and--to die." + +He left the room, and in the darkness, along corridor, and up stairway, +pursued his way slowly to the banquet-room. + +"To this estate I have offered up twenty-one years of my life,--of my +soul. For it I have denied myself the companionship of a wife, the joy +of hearing a child call me by the name of 'father!' I have traversed +the globe in its behalf; made myself a dweller in all lands; have +left the beautiful domain of that science which loses itself among +the stars, to make myself a student in the science of human misery, +in the dark philosophy of human despair. I have made myself the very +slave of this estate. Believing that one day, its enormous wealth would +be devoted to the amelioration of social misery, I have made myself +familiar with the entire anatomy of the social world; have dwelt in the +very heart of its most loathsome evils; have probed to the quick the +ulcer of its moral leprosy. But at all times, and in every phase of my +career, I did hope, that out of this son of Gulian's, cast like a waif +upon the voyage of life, and made the subject of superhuman misfortune, +PROVIDENCE would at length mould a good, strong man, with heart and +intellect, to wield the Van Huyden estate, for the social regeneration +of his race. My hope is ashes." + +With words like these in his soul, only half-uttered on his tongue, he +opened a door and passed into the banquet-room. + +It was brilliantly lighted by an antique chandelier which hung from the +lofty ceiling. It was arranged for the last scene. + +In this banquet-room, twenty-one years ago, there was the sound of +merry voices, mingled with the clink of wine-glasses; there were hearts +mad with joy, and faces dressed in smiles; and there was one face +dressed in smiles, which masked a heart devoured by the tortures of the +damned. + +Now the scene was changed. The doors, windows, the pictures of the Van +Huyden family which lined the lofty walls, were concealed by hangings +of bright scarlet. A round table, covered with a white cloth, and +surrounded by eight antique arm-chairs, alone broke the monotony of +that vast and brilliantly lighted banquet-hall. The chandelier which +shone upon the hangings, and lighted up every part of the room, shone +down upon the white cloth of the table, and upon a single object which +varied its surface,--a small portfolio, bound in black leather. + +In that portfolio were comprised the mysteries of the Van Huyden estate. + +Beneath the table, and shaded by it from the light, dimly appeared +an iron chest, and a coffin covered with black cloth,--both were +half-concealed beneath a pall of velvet, fringed with tarnished gold. + +Martin Fulmer attentively surveyed this scene, and a sudden thought +seemed to strike him. "It will not do," he said, "let the old place, in +this hour, put on all its memories." + +He rang the bell, and four servants, attired in gray liveries, appeared +from beneath the hangings. Martin whispered his commands in a low +voice, and they obeyed without a word. Moving to and fro, without +uproar, in the course of a few minutes they had completely changed the +appearance of the hall. Thus changed, the banquet-room has, indeed, put +on its old memories; it wears the look, it breathes the air of the past. + +The light of the chandelier, no longer dazzling, falls in subdued +radiance around a lofty hall, whose ceiling is supported by eight +pillars of cedar, grotesquely carved from base to capital, with the +faces of monks and nuns,--all of the round and oily stamp,--with +beasts, and birds, and fruits, and flowers. The glaring scarlet +hangings cluster in festoons around the capitals of the pillars; and +between the pillars appear, upon the panneled walls, portraits of the +Van Huyden family, in frames of oak, and walnut, and gilt, for seven +generations; beginning with the grim face of THE ANCESTOR, who landed +on Manhattan Island in the year 1620, and ending with the youthful, +artist-like face of Carl Raphael, painted in 1842. (This portrait of +Nameless, Martin Fulmer procured from the study of Cornelius Berman.) +The lofty windows on one side, were hidden by curtains of dark purple. +At one end of the spacious hall, was a broad hearth, blazing with a +cheerful wood-fire; at the other, on a dark platform, arose a marble +image of "THE MASTER," as large as life, and thrown distinctly into +view by the dark background. + +There are two altars covered with black velvet, fringed with gold; one +on each side of the table. The altar on the right supports the coffin; +the one on the left, the iron chest; and around coffin and iron chest, +as for a funeral, tall wax candles are dimly burning. + +The dark panneled walls,--the huge pillars, quaintly carved,--the +pictures, all save one, dim with age,--the hearth and its flame,--the +white image of the Savior,--the central table, with its eight +arm-chairs,--the dark altars, with wax candles burning around coffin +and iron chest,--all combined to present an effect which, deepened by +the dead stillness, is altogether impressive and ghost-like. + +"The place looks like the old time," exclaims Martin Fulmer, slowly +surveying its every detail,--"and,--" + +The sound of the old clock again! How it rings through the +mansion,--rings, and swells, and dies away! One,--two,--three,--four! + +Martin Fulmer sinks into the arm-chair, at the head of the table, and +from beneath his waistcoat draws forth a parchment,--the last will and +testament of Gulian Van Huyden. + +"There is no other way,--I must begin;" he casts his eyes toward a +narrow doorway, across which is stretched a curtain. Behind that +curtain wait the heirs of the Van Huyden estate. The old man, erect in +his chair, at the head of the table, passes his right hand thoughtfully +over his broad forehead, and through the masses of his hair, as white +as snow. + +And then directing his gaze toward the doorway, he begins to call the +names of the Seven: + +"Evelyn Somers!" + +No answer,--the merchant prince now sleeps a corpse within his palace. + +"Beverly Barron!"--the name of the man of fashion resounds through the +still hall. + +But Beverly will never fold in his arms again, the form of a tempted +and yielding maiden; never place his lips again to the lips of a +faithless wife, whom he has made false to her marriage vow,--never +press a father's kiss upon the brow of his motherless child. Beverly +also has gone to his account. + +"Harry Royalton!" exclaimed Martin Fulmer, and again directed his eyes +toward the door. + +Is that his step, the man of the racecourse, the hero of the +cock-pit and faro-bank? No. It was but a breath of air among the +window-curtains. But where, in this hour, of all others, is Harry +Royalton of Hill Royal? It cannot be told. He does not appear. + +Martin Fulmer, with something of surprise upon his face, spoke the +fourth name,-- + +"Herman Barnhurst!" + +Herman, the voluptuous, and the fair-cheeked, and eagle-eyed,--the +victim of beautiful Marion Merlin,--the husband of outraged Fanny +Lansdale,--the seducer of poor Alice Burney,--Herman does not answer +the summons. + +A wild hope began to gleam in the deep eyes of Martin Fulmer,--"Four of +the seven absent,--why not all?" And he called the fifth name; the name +of one, whom, most of all others, he desired to be present:-- + +"Arthur Dermoyne!" + +Loud and deep it swelled, but there was no reply. Enthusiast and +mechanic, who, at your work-bench, have laid out plans of social +regeneration,--who, amid the clatter of hammers, and hum of toil, have +heard the words of the four gospels, and thought of wealth only as the +means of putting those words into deeds,--where do you linger at this +hour? Alas, Dermoyne is silent; he does not appear. + +The light in Martin's eyes grew brighter, "Five of the Seven, why not +all!" + +"Gabriel Godlike!" he pronounced the name, and paused in suspense for +the answer to the summons. + +"Here!" cried a voice of thunder, and through the parted curtains, +the imposing form of the statesman emerged into light. His broad +chest was clad in a blue coat with bright metal buttons; a white +cravat made his bronzed face look yet darker; he advanced with a heavy +stride, his great forehead looming boldly in the light, his eyes deep +sunken beneath the brows, glaring like living coals. His cheek was +flushed,--with wine--or with the excitement of the hour? + +Ponderous and gloomy and grand, as when he arose to scatter +thunderbolts through the thronged senate,--attired in the same brown +coat which he wore on state occasions,--he came to the table, assumed a +seat opposite Dr. Martin Fulmer, and said in his deepest bass,--"I am +here, and ready for the final settlement of the Van Huyden estate." + +It is no shame to Dr. Fulmer to say, that he had rather confronted +the entire Seven together, than to have to deal with this man alone. +"The estate decreed into those hands, which know neither remorse or +fear?"--he shuddered. + +Then he called the seventh name,-- + +"Israel Yorke!" + +No delay this time. With a hop and a spring,--spectacles on nose, and +sharp gray eyes glancing all about him,--the little financier came +through the curtain, and advancing to the table, seated himself beside +Godlike, like Mammon on right of Lucifer. + +"And I am here," he said, pulling his whiskers, and then running his +hand over his bald head,--"Here and ready for the final settlement of +the Van Huyden estate." + +"And is this all?" ejaculated Martin Fulmer; and once more he called +the names of the Seven. There was no response. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +"SAY, BETWEEN US THREE!" + + +Martin Fulmer uttered a deep sigh, and then gazing upon the +representatives of Satan and of Mammon he said: "Gentlemen, you know +the purpose for which you are here?" + +"We do," they said, and each one laid his copy of the will on the table. + +"The first thing in order, is the reading of the Will," said Martin +Fulmer solemnly. And while a dead stillness pervaded, he read the will; +and afterward briefly recounted the circumstances connected with the +death of the testator. + +When he had finished, the silence remained for some moments +unbroken. The lights flashed upon the smart concealed visage of the +financier,--the grand Satanic face of the statesman,--the calm face of +Martin Fulmer, with the bold brow, and hair as white as snow; and as a +breath of wind moved the lights, they flashed fitfully over the coffin, +and the iron chest, the cedar pillars, and the marble image. + +"There is no son in existence?" asked Israel nervously. + +"None," answered Martin in a low voice. + +"He did not die in a cause pre-eminent for its sanctity?" asked Gabriel +in a deep voice. + +"It cannot be said that he did," answered Martin, as though questioning +his own conscience. + +"The disposition of this estate, depends then entirely upon your +integrity, and especially upon your fidelity to your _oath_?"--the +statesman, as though he knew the chord most sensitive, in the strong +honest nature of Martin Fulmer, watched him keenly, as he awaited his +answer. + +Martin bowed his head. + +"Under those circumstances, it is clear to you, is it not, that the +estate falls to those of the Seven Heirs, who are now present?" + +"If I am faithful to my OATH, such will be my disposition of the +estate." + +"Faithful to your oath?" echoed Godlike. + +"That would be highly immoral," said Israel Yorke. + +It was in a slow and measured tone, and with his venerable head, placed +firmly on his shoulders, that Martin Fulmer said,-- + +"Sir, you know me," to Godlike,--"in the times of the Bank panic, I +met you in the vestibule of the senate, and had some interesting +conversation with you. You know that I would sooner die than break +my word, much less my oath, and of all others, THE OATH which I took +to Gulian Van Huyden. But may not circumstances arise in which the +breaking of that oath may be a lighter crime, than strict obedience to +it?" + +Godlike started--Yorke half rose from his chair. + +"Reflect for a moment. Circumstances have arisen, which the testator +could not have ever dreamed of, when he loaded me with this trust, +under the seal of that awful oath. It was doubtless his wish that +his estates, swelled by the accumulation of twenty-one years, should +descend into the hands of his son, who having been reared in poverty +and hardship, would know how to use this wealth for the good of +mankind,--or in the absence of his son, that it should be _dispersed_ +for the good of the race, by the hands of seven persons, selected from +the descendants of the original Van Huyden, and scattered throughout +the Union. Such was doubtless his idea. But behold how different the +result. The son is dead. Only two of the Seven are here. Shall I, +adhering to the letter of the law, to the oath in its strictest sense, +divide this great estate between you two? Or, fearful of the awful evil +which you may work to the world, with this untold wealth, shall I--in +order to avoid this evil,--refuse to divide the estate, and take upon +myself the moral penalty of the broken oath?" + +"That is a question which you must settle with your own conscience," +said Godlike slowly, as he fixed his gaze upon Martin Fulmer's face. + +Was he aware of the one weak point in the strong, bold mind of Dr. +Martin Fulmer? Did he know of Dr. Martin Fulmer's fear and horror +of--the unpardonable sin? + +Martin did not reply, but leaned his head upon his hand, and seemed +buried in thought. + +"In order to understand my position, reflect,--twenty-one years ago, +the estate was but two millions; behold it now!" He unlocked the +portfolio, and drew forth two half sheets of foolscap, covered with +writing in a delicate but legible hand. "There is a brief statement of +the estate as it stands." + +Israel eagerly grasped one half sheet; Godlike took the other. Martin +Fulmer intensely watched their faces as they read. + +Rapidly Godlike's eagle eye, perused that index to the untold wealth of +the Van Huyden estate. + +"It would purchase the Presidency of the United States!" he muttered +with a heaving chest,--"enthroned upon that pedestal, a man might call +kings his menials, the world his plaything." + +"One hundred millions! Astor multiplied by Girard!" ejaculated Israel +Yorke,--"with such a capital, one might buy Rothschild, and keep him +too!" + +Glorious and eloquent half sheet of foolscap! Talk of Milton, +Shakspeare, Homer,--your poetry is worth all theirs combined! What +flight of theirs, in their loftiest moods, can match in sublimity, the +simple and majestic march of this swelling line,-- + +"_One hundred millions of dollars!_" + +"This is a dream," said Godlike,--and for once his voice was tremulous. + +"Enough to set one raving!" cried Israel Yorke. + +"And yet, adhering to the strict letter of my oath,--" the voice and +look of Martin Fulmer was sad,--despairing,--"I am bound to divide this +incredible wealth between you two." + +"Say, between us three!" cried a new voice, and as Martin Fulmer raised +his head, and the others started in their seats, the speaker came with +a rapid stride from the curtained doorway to the table. + +It was Randolph Royalton, the white slave. Folding his arms upon +the breast of his frock coat,--made of dark blue cloth,--which was +buttoned to his throat, he stood beside the table, his face lividly +pale, and his dark hair floating wild and disheveled about his forehead. + +"You!--a negro!"--and Godlike's lip curled in sardonic scorn. + +Trembling as with an excitement continued for long hours, Randolph +turned to Martin Fulmer, and said: + +"I am the oldest child of John Augustine Royal ton, and his lawful +heir. And I am here! There is the proof that my father was married +to Herodia, my mother,--" he placed a paper in the hands of Martin +Fulmer,--"I am here in the name of my father, to claim my portion of +the Van Huyden estate." + +Israel was very restless,--Godlike very gloomy and full of scorn, as +Martin Fulmer attentively perused the document. + +"You have a copy of the Will, addressed to your father?" asked the old +man, raising his eyes to Randolph's colorless face. + +Randolph drew a parchment from the breast of his coat,--"There is my +father's copy, superscribed with his name." + +"I recognize you as the elder son of John Augustine Royalton," said Dr. +Fulmer, very calmly,--"These proofs are all sufficient. Be seated, sir." + +Randolph uttered a wild cry, and pressed his forehead with both hands. + +It was a moment before he recovered his composure. "You said _negro!_ +just now!" he turned to Godlike, his blue eves flashing with deadly +hatred, "learn sir, that had yonder bit of paper failed to establish my +right, that this at least establishes my descent from ---- ----!" + +Godlike repeated that great name, in a tone of mingled incredulity and +contempt. + +"Ay, _he_ was the father of Herodia,--I am his grandson. There is my +grandfather's handwriting," he placed the paper in the hands of Martin +Fulmer, "Read it, sir, for the information of this statesman. Let him +know that the few drops of _negro blood_ which flow in my veins, are +lost and drowned in the blood of a man whose name is history,--of ---- +----!" + +Martin Fulmer read the paper aloud, adding, "You perceive he speaks the +truth. He is the grandson of ---- ----." + +"Pardon me,--I was hasty," said the statesman, extending his hand. + +Randolph did not seem to notice the extended hand, but dropping into a +chair, said, quietly,--"There are _three_ of us _now_, I believe." + +And he regarded the statesman with a look which was full of triumph and +scorn. + +Martin Fulmer looked into the faces of the three, and then bent his +head in deep thought,--deep and harrowing thought, extending over every +instant of twenty-one years. + +From the portfolio he drew forth two half sheets of paper, covered with +writing in his own hand. One bore the signature of Gabriel Godlike, the +other that of Israel Yorke. + +"These papers, embracing an absolute renunciation of all their claims +upon the Van Huyden estate, they signed before the Court of Ten +Millions,--signed, without knowing their contents. Shall I produce +them?" + +He hesitated.--"But no! no! I am not clear as to the right of any one +to dispose of his share." + +Martin Fulmer, before the bar of his own conscience, was fanatically +just. He _might_ use these papers, but before his own conscience he +dared not. + +"I am decided," he exclaimed, despair impressed upon his face,--"I must +fulfill my oath. Gentlemen, I recognize you as the three heirs of the +Van Huyden estate, you having appeared at the appointed hour." + +The same electric throb of joy--joy intense to madness,--ran through +the bosoms of the three, but manifested itself in different ways. The +diminutive financier bounded from his chair; Godlike uttered an oath; +Randolph muttered between his teeth, "The _negro_ is, indeed, then, one +of the three." + +"I will presently give to each of you a certificate, over my own hand, +stating that you appeared at the appointed hour, and pledging myself, +within a week, to apportion this vast estate among you." + +Without taking time to notice the expression of their faces, he +continued,-- + +"But first, we must open this,"--he pointed to the iron chest,--"and +this,"--to the coffin, around which, as around the iron chest, tall wax +candles were dimly burning. "Whatever these may contain, they cannot +affect nor change my decision. But they must be opened,--so the will +directs." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE LEGATE OF HIS HOLINESS. + + +As he rose from his seat and advanced toward the iron chest, the +curtain of the doorway was thrust aside, and the light shone upon a +slender form, clad in black, and upon a pallid face, framed in masses +of jet-black hair. + +"Gaspar Manuel! at last!" ejaculated Martin Fulmer. + +"Pardon me for this intrusion," said Gaspar Manuel, in a tone of quiet +dignity,--"I would have seen you ere this, but unexpected events +prevented me. It is of the last importance that I should converse with +you without delay." + +The entrance of the man, whose slender form was clad in a frock-coat of +black cloth, single-breasted, and reaching to the knees,--whose face, +unnaturally pale, was in strong contrast with the blackness of his +moustache and beard, and of the hair, which fell in wavy masses to his +shoulders,--created a singular and marked impression. + +With one impulse, Godlike, Yorke and Randolph rose to their feet. For +the first time, they remarked that the stranger wore on his right +breast a golden cross, and carried in his left hand a casket of dark +wood,--perchance ebony. + +"I wish to see you in regard to the lands in California, near +the mission of San Luis," said Gaspar Manuel, his voice, touched +with a foreign accent, yet singularly sweet and emphatic in its +intonation.--"Lands claimed by yourself, on behalf of the Van Huyden +estate, and also by the Order of Jesus. Many acres of these lands are +rich in everything that can bless a climate soft as Italy, but there +are one thousand barren acres which abound in fruit like this." + +He placed the casket upon the table, unlocked it, and displayed its +contents. + +"Gold!" burst from every lip. + +"Those thousand acres contain gold sufficient to change the destinies +of the world," said Gaspar Manuel, calmly, as he fixed his dazzling +eyes upon the face of Godlike.--"The contest for the possession of +this untold wealth lies between the Order of Jesus and the Van Huyden +estate." + +"Have not the Mexican Government appointed a Commissioner to decide +upon their respective claims?" As he asked the question, Dr. Martin +Fulmer, (who, as Ezekiel Bogart, had seen Gaspar Manuel dressed as a +man of the world) gazed in surprise upon that costume which indicated +the Jesuit. There was suspicion as well as surprise in his gaze. + +"That Commissioner is one of the rulers of the Jesuits,--an especial +Legate of the Roman Pope," continued Martin, surveying Gaspar Manuel +with a look of deepening suspicion. "His name is----" + +"Never mind his name," interrupted Gaspar Manuel,--"Let it satisfy you +that I am a Jesuit, perchance one of the rulers of that Order. And I am +the LEGATE of whom you speak." + +"You!" echoed Martin Fulmer, and his ejaculation was repeated by the +others. + +"I am that Commissioner," replied Gaspar Manuel, "and my decision has +been made. Allow me a few moments for reflection, and I will make it +known to you. While you converse with those gentlemen, I will warm +myself at yonder fire, for the climate is hard to bear, after the bland +atmosphere of Havana." + +With a wave of the hand and a slight inclination of the head, he +retired from the table and bent his steps toward the fire-place. +Seating himself in an arm-chair, he now gazed into the flame with his +flashing eyes, and now,--over his shoulder,--surveyed the banquet-hall. +Then taking tablets and pencil from a side-pocket, he seemed absorbed +in the mazes of a profound arithmetical calculation; but every now and +then he raised his eyes, and with that dazzling glance, took in every +detail of the banquet-hall. + +Meanwhile, the group around the table had not yet recovered from the +impression, produced by his presence. + +"A singular man,--eh?" quoth Yorke. + +"A man of rank. I think I have seen his face in Washington City," +remarked Godlike. + +"A dignitary of the Catholic Church," exclaimed Randolph.--"A man of no +common order." + +As for Martin Fulmer, glancing by turns at the box, filled with +golden ore, and at the form of the Legate, who was seated quietly by +the fire-place, he said, with a sigh,--"More gold, more wealth!" and +thought of Carl Raphael, the son of Gulian Van Huyden. + +"Let us open the iron chest," he said, and placed the key in the lock, +while Randolph, Godlike and Yorke, gathered round, in mute suspense. + +But ere the key turned in the lock, a new interruption took place. The +aged servant, Michael, entered, and placed a slip of paper, on which +a single line was written, in the hands of Martin Fulmer. The old man +read it at a glance, and at once his face glowed, his eyes shone with +new light. + +"The person who wrote this, Michael,--where--where is he?" he said, in +a tremulous voice. + +"In the reception-room," answered Michael. + +"Show him here,--at once,--at once,--quick, I say!" and he seized +Michael by the arm, and pointed to the door, his face displaying every +sign of irrepressible agitation. Michael hurried from the room. + +"Let us all thank God, for HE has not failed us!" cried Martin Fulmer, +spreading forth his hands, as he walked wildly to and fro.--"The son of +Gulian Van Huyden is not dead!" + +A thunderbolt crushing through the ceiling, would not have created half +the consternation caused by these words. + +They dashed the hopes of Randolph, Godlike and Yorke to the dust. + +"Not dead!" they echoed, in a breath. + +"He is not dead. He is living, and in this house. In a moment he will +be here,--here, to claim his father's estate." + +And in the wildness of his joy, Martin Fulmer hurried to and fro, now +wringing his hands, now spreading them forth in thankfulness to heaven. + +"I knew," said the old man, standing erect, the light shining full upon +his white hairs, "I knew that Providence would not desert me!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE SON AT LAST. + + +The curtain moved again, and two persons came slowly into the room; a +man whose wounded arm was carried in a sling and whose livid face was +marked by recent wounds,--a boy, whose graceful form was enveloped in a +closely fitting frock-coat, while his young face was shaded by locks of +glossy hair. + +"Martin Fulmer! behold the lost child of Gulian Van Huyden!" cried +Colonel Tarleton, urging the boy forward. + +At sight of Tarleton, Martin Fulmer felt his whole being contract with +loathing, but rushing forward, he seized the boy by the arms, and +looked earnestly into his face,--a face touching in its expression, +with clear, deep eyes, that now seemed blue, now gray, and round +outlines, and framed in locks of flowing hair, of the richest chestnut +brown. + +"This,--this, is not Carl Raphael!" ejaculated Martin Fulmer, turning +fiercely upon Tarleton,-- + +A smile crossed the bloodless lips of Tarleton. + +"Not Carl Raphael, but still the son of Gulian. A word will explain +all. On the last night of her life, Alice Van Huyden gave birth to two +children: they were born within a half hour of each other. One was +taken from her bed, and borne away by her husband. The other I bore to +my home, educated as my own, and now he stands before you, the lawful +heir of his father's estate. Look at his face, and, if you can, say +that he is not Gulian's son." + +This revelation was listened to with the most intense interest by +Randolph, Godlike, Yorke,--and Gaspar Manuel, attracted from the +fire-place by the sound of voices, looked over their shoulders at the +singular group,--the boy, with Tarleton on one hand, and Martin Fulmer +on the other. + +Long and intently Martin Fulmer perused that youthful countenance, +which, with downcast eyes, seemed to avoid his gaze. + +"Carl Raphael Van Huyden is lost," exclaimed Martin Fulmer, "but the +face, the look of Gulian Van Huyden lives again in this boy. Gentlemen, +behold the son of Gulian Van Huyden, the heir to his estate!" + +He urged the shrinking boy toward the light. + +"I will not," cried the boy, raising his head and surveying the group +with flashing eyes,--"I will not submit to be made an accomplice in +this imposture--" + +"Child!" said Tarleton, sternly. + +"Nay, you shall not force me to it. Hear me one and all," and he tore +open his coat and vest, and laid bare his breast, "I am the child of +Gulian Van Huyden, but not his son." + +It was a woman's bosom which the open vest bared to the light. + +A dead stillness followed this revelation. + +And the center of the group stood the beautiful girl in her male +attire, her bosom heaving in the light, while her eyes flashed through +their tears. + +"I will not submit to be made the accomplice of this man's schemes," +she pointed to Tarleton,--"As the daughter of Gulian Van Huyden, I +cannot inherit my father's estate." + +At this point, Gaspar Manuel stepped forward,--"Yes you can, my child," +he said, and drew the disguised girl to his breast, "it is your father +himself who tells you so, daughter." And he kissed her on the forehead, +while his dark hair hid her face. + +Then as he held her in his arms, he raised his face, and with one hand, +swept back the dark hair from his brow,--"Martin Fulmer, don't you +remember me?" and then to Colonel Tarleton,--"and you, brother, you +certainly don't forget me?" + +That scene cannot be painted in words. + +"Gulian!" was all that Tarleton or Charles Van Huyden could say, as he +shrank back appalled and blasted before his brother's smile. + +As for Martin Fulmer, after one eager and intense look, he felt his +knees bend beneath him, and his head droop on his breast, as he uttered +his soul in the words,--"It is Gulian come back to life again." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A LONG ACCOUNT SETTLED. + + +Back from his brother's gaze, step by step, shrank Tarleton or Charles +Van Huyden, his eyes still chained to that face, which the grave seemed +to have yielded up, to blast his schemes in the very moment of their +triumph. + +His own child dead,--the stain of Carl Raphael's blood upon his +soul,--he felt like a man who stands amid the ruins of a falling house, +when the last prop gives way. + +With a cry that was scarcely human, in its awful anguish, he turned and +fled. Fled from the banquet-room, and through the adjoining chamber, +into the darkness of the corridor. His mind, strained to its utmost +tension by the perpetual excitement of the last twenty-four hours, gave +way all at once, like a bow that, drawn to its full power, suddenly +snaps, even as a withered reed. All was dark around him as he rushed +along the corridor, but that darkness was made luminous by his soul. +It was peopled with faces, that seemed to be encircled by lurid light. +The worst agony that can befall a mortal man fell upon him. Nerves +disordered, brain unstrung, his very thoughts became living things, and +chased him through the darkness. The face of Evelyn Somers was before +him, gazing upon him with fixed eyeballs. And his steps were suddenly +checked, by an agonized countenance, which was sinking in wintery +waves, that seemed to roll about his very feet. He was touched on the +shoulder,--his dead daughter ran beside him in her shroud, linking her +arm in his, and bending forward her face, which looked up into his +own, with lips that had no blood in them, and eyes that had no life. +And if the darkness was full of faces, the air was full of voices; +voices whispering, shouting, yelling, all through each other, and yet, +every voice distinctly heard,--all the voices that he had heard in his +lifetime were speaking to him now. Well might he have exclaimed in the +words of Cain,--"My punishment is greater than I can bear." + +If he could have only rid himself of Frank, who ran by his side, in her +shroud! But no,--there she was,--her arm in his,--her face bent forward +looking up into his own, with lips that had no blood, and eyes that had +no life. + +He talked to those phantoms,--he bade them back,--he rushed on, through +the corridor, and ascended the dark stairs with horrid shrieks. And +the face of Carl Raphael, struggling in the waves, went before him at +every step. + +He readied at length the narrow garret, in which years agone, Gulian +Van Huyden bid Martin Fulmer, farewell. Here, as he heard the storm +beat against the window panes, he for a moment recovered his shattered +senses. + +"I'm nervous," he cried, "if I had been drinking, I would think I had +the _mania_. Let me recover myself. Where in the deuce am I?" + +A heavy step was heard on the stairway, and a form plunged into the +room, bearing Tarleton against the wall. It was no phantom, but the +form of a stalwart man. + +"Halloo! Who are you?" cried a hoarse voice,--it was the voice of +Ninety-One, and as he spoke, shouts came up the narrow stairway from +the passage below. "You set here to trap me,--speak?" + +And the hand of Ninety-One, clutched the throat of Tarleton with an +iron grip. + +"This way,--this way," cried a voice, and a gleam of light shooting up +the stairs, through the narrow doorway, fell upon the livid face of +Tarleton. + +"O, we have met at last? Do you hear them shouts? Blossom follered by +the poleese are in the house, and on my track, for the murder of young +Somers. In a second they'll be here. Now I've got you, and we'll settle +that long account,--we will by G--d!" + +"You are choking me,--A-h!" gasped Tarleton, as he was dragged toward +the window. The shouts from below grew more distinct, and once more the +light flashed up the stairs. + +"Carl Raphael died by drownin' and that's very like chokin'," whispered +Ninety-One, as he bent his face near to the struggling wretch. "I've no +way of escape,--even old Fulmer can't save me. And so we'll settle that +long account." + +"You are choking me,--do not,--do not--" + +"You know all the items, so there's no use o' dwellin' on 'em," the +hoarse voice of Ninety-One was heard above the pelting of the storm, +"but the murder of that 'ar boy makes the docket full. Here goes--" + +Dragging Tarleton to the window, he struck the sash, with one hand, and +then kicked against it with all his strength. It yielded with a crash, +and the snow and sleet rushes through the aperture in a blast. + +"Spare me! Mercy! O do not--" + +Ninety-One crept through the narrow aperture, out upon the roof, and +dragged Tarleton after him. Then there were two forms standing erect +for a moment, in the gloom, and then the blast bore away the sound of +voices, and a howl that was heard, far and long, through the night. + +"This way! We've caught the old fox," said a well known voice, and the +red face of Blossom, adorned with carbuncles, appeared in the doorway, +while the lantern which he held, filled the garret with light. + +"This way," he sprang through the doorway, and followed by half a dozen +men in thick coats, and with maces in their hands, he ran toward the +window, "he's out upon the roof." + +He held the lantern over his head, and looked without, while the snow +and sleet beat in his face. From the garret-window the roof fell with +a sudden slope, for the space of two yards, and there it ended. By +the lantern light, he saw some rude traces of footsteps in the snow, +and the print of a hand. A glance was sufficient. When he turned to +confront his comrades, his red face was white as a sheet-- + +"By G--d the old convic' has gone an' jumped from the roof,--four +storys high--as I'm a sinner!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN THE BANQUET-ROOM ONCE MORE. + + +Meanwhile in the banquet-room, the Legate of the Pope, with the form +of his daughter, in her male attire, nestling on his breast, raised +his head, and surveyed the faces of the spectators, who had not yet +recovered from their surprise. His face pale and worn, as with years of +consuming thought, his eyes bright as with the fire of a soul never at +rest, held every gaze enchained as he spoke,-- + +"Rise Martin Fulmer!" he extended his hand to the kneeling man, "rise, +and let me look upon the face of--an honest man." + +As though disturbed in the midst of a dream, Martin Fulmer rose, his +head with his snow-white hair and protuberant brow, presenting a strong +contrast to the pallid face, dark hair and beard of the Legate. + +"Look upon me, Martin Fulmer, and steadily. Do you recognize me." + +"Gulian Van Huyden!" ejaculated the old man. + +The Legate surveyed Randolph, Godlike, Yorke, who formed a group behind +the Doctor, while in the background, the lights burned faintly around +the iron chest and coffin. Even as the Legate looked around, Randolph +turned aside, and leaning against frame of yonder window, pushed the +curtains aside, and looked forth upon the cold, dark night. Not so cold +and dark as his own bitter fate! Well was it for him, that his face was +turned from the light! That face, terribly distorted, now revealed the +hell which was raging in his breast. His soul stained with crime, his +last hope blotted out, whither should he turn? Grandson of ---- ---- it +had been better for you, had you never been born! + +After his silent survey, the Legate spoke: + +"Another place and another hour, will be needed, to repeat the full +details of my life, since twenty-one years ago, I left this house,--to +die," in an attitude of calm dignity, and with a voice and look, that +held every soul, the Legate spoke these words,--"I was rescued from +the waves, by a boat that chanced to be passing from the shore to a +ship in the bay. Upon that ship, I again unclosed my eyes to life, and +watched through the cabin windows, the last glimpse of the American +shore, growing faint and fainter over the waves. Thus called back +to life,--my name in my native land, only known as the name of the +Suicide, my estates in the hands of Martin Fulmer, left to the chances +or the providence of twenty-one years,--I resolved to live. The ship +(the captain and crew were foreigners,) bore me to an Italian port. +I sold the jewels which were about my person when I plunged into +the river, and found myself in possession of a competence. Then, in +search of peace, anxious to drown the past, and still every emotion of +other days, by a life of self-denial, I went to Rome, I entered the +Propaganda. In the course of time I became a priest, and then,----well! +twenty-one years passed in the service of the church have left me as I +am. Your hand, brave Martin Fulmer! Think not that your course has been +unknown to me! You have been watched,--your every step marked,--your +very thoughts recorded,--and now it is the Legate of the Pope, who +takes you by the hand, and calls you by a title, which it is beyond +the power of Pope or King to create,--_an honest man!_ Twenty times I +have been near you in the course of twenty-one years,--once in Paris, +when you were there on business of the estate,--once in Mexico,--once +in China,--once on the Ocean,--once in Rome! How my heart yearned to +disclose myself to you! But I left you go your way, and now at the end +of twenty-one years, we stand face to face. And thou, my child,--" he +gazed tenderly into the face of the girl, whose eyes were upraised to +meet his own,--"my beautiful! my own! Think not that the garment of the +priest, chills the heart of the father!" + +"Father!" she whispered, putting her hands upon his shoulder,--"how my +heart yearned to you, when I first met you, in the dark streets,--when +friendless and homeless, I was flying to the river, as my only friend!" + +It was a touching picture,--the priest, who for twenty-one years, had +never permitted his heart to throb with one pulse that would remind +him of the word "Home," and the daughter, who, educated to serve the +dark purposes of Tarleton, had never before felt her heart bound at the +sight of her _Father's_ face. + +Martin Fulmer's face grew sad,-- + +"Do you regret my return?" said the Legate with a smile. + +"I was thinking," said Martin, and his soul was in his eyes as he +spoke,--"I was thinking of--ROME!" + +Godlike stepped forward, with a smile on his somber visage,--"Rome!" he +echoed,--"of course, now that the dead has returned to life, the heirs +need not think of dividing the estate. And you as priest of the Roman +Church, as one of her lords, can think of but one disposition of your +immense property It will go to the church,--to Rome!" + +"To Rome!" echoed Israel Yorke. Randolph, with his face from the light, +did not seem to hear a word that was spoken. And Martin Fulmer, with +his finger on his lips, awaited in evident suspense, the answer of the +Legate. + +"To Rome!" echoed the Legate and disengaging himself from the arms of +his daughter, he stood erect. His entire face changed. His nostrils +quivered, his lips curled, there was a glow on his pale cheek, and +an intenser fire in his eyes. He passed his hand over his forehead, +and brushing back his dark hair, stood for a moment, motionless as a +statue, his eyes fixed, as though he saw passing before his soul, a +panorama of the future. + +"Within that brutal Rome which plants its power upon human skulls, +there is a higher, mightier Rome! Within that order which uses and +profanes the name of Jesus, as the instrument of its frauds, there is +a higher, mightier Order of Jesus! I see this mightier church,--I see +this mightier Order moving onward, through the paths of the future, +combating the false Rome, and trampling under foot the false Order +of Jesus! Yes, in the future, I see armed for the last battle, those +friends of humanity, who have sworn to use the Roman Church as the +instrument of Human Progress, or to drive forward the movement over her +ruins." + +The effect of these words, coupled with the look and the attitude of +the Legate, was electric. They were followed by a dead stillness. The +spectators gazed into each other's faces, but no one ventured to break +the silence. + +The silence was interrupted, however, by a strange voice,-- + +"Lor bress you, massa, de nigga hab arribe!" It was Old Royal, who +emerged from the curtains, with a broad grin on his black face,--"You +know dis nigga war on de ribber in a boat, fetchin ober from +Jarsey shore, a brack gemman who didn' like to trabel by de ferry +boat--yah--whah! Well de nigga did it,--" + +He advanced a step,--passed his hand through his white wool,--surveyed +his giant-like form clad in sleek broadcloth,--showed his white teeth, +and continued, with an accent and a gesticulation that words cannot +describe-- + +"Well, as we come across,--lor-a-massy how de storm did storm, and de +snow did snow! As we come across, dis nigga cotched by de har ob his +head, a young white gemman, who war a-drownin'. An' dis same young +white gemman, Massa Fulmer,--" he pointed over his shoulder, "am out +dar!" + +"What mean you, Royal?" cried Martin Fulmer, and he shook with the +conflict of hope and suspense,--"whom did you rescue?" + +"Dar's de white _pusson_," said Old Royal. + +Leaning on the arm of Mary Berman, whose face was rosy with joy, +whose bonnet had fallen on her neck, while her hair, glittering with +snow-drops, strayed over her shoulders,--leaning on the arm of his +wife, Nameless, or Carl Raphael, came through the doorway, and advanced +toward the group. + +He was clad in black, which threw his pale face, shaded by brown hair, +boldly into view. His eyes were clear and brilliant; his lip firm. As +he advanced, every eye remarked the resemblance between him and the +Legate; and also between him, and the disguised girl, who stood by the +Legate's side. + +"Rescued from death by the hands of this good friend,--" his voice was +clear and bold, "I returned home, and found the note which you,--" he +looked at Martin Fulmer, "caused to be left there. And in obedience to +the request contained in that note, I am here." + +At first completely thunderstruck, the venerable man had not power to +frame a word. + +"Fatality!" he cried at last, "but a blessed fatality! I knew that +Providence would not desert us! Come to my heart, my child! Carl,--" +trembling with emotion, he took Nameless by the hand, "Carl, behold +your father, who, after a lapse of twenty-one years, has appeared +among us, like one risen from the grave! Behold your sister, born like +you, in your mother's death-agony,--separated from you for twenty-one +years,--she now rejoins you, in presence of your father!" + +It was now the turn of Nameless to stand spell-bound and thunderstruck. +He stood like one in a dream, until the voices of the Legate and the +young girl broke on his ear, voices so like his own. + +"My son!" + +"Brother!" + +He was gathered to the Legate's breast, who kissed him on the brow, +and surveying every line of his face, felt his bosom swell with pride +as he called him, "my son!" Then his sister's arms were upon his neck, +and Nameless, as he saw her face, so touching, in its quiet loveliness, +felt his heart swell with a rapture, never felt before, as he found +himself encircled in that atmosphere which is most like heaven,--the +atmosphere of a sister's love. + +"Listen to me, my son," said the Legate, as he took Nameless by +the hand, and his eyes lit up with a new fire, while in abrupt and +broken sentences, he poured forth the story of his life. His tone was +impassioned, his words electric. Carl Raphael listened, while the +emotions of his soul, were written in his changing features. + +"And now, my son," concluded the Legate, as he put his arm about the +neck of Nameless, "twenty-one years are gone, and I appear again. The +estate, from two millions, has swelled into one hundred millions. You +will inherit it, and you and I, and this good man, will join together, +in applying the awful power embodied in this wealth, to the best +interests of the human race." + +To the surprise of the Legate, Nameless unwound his arm from his neck, +and stepped back from him. His face suddenly became cold and rigid as +stone. Rising in every inch of his stature, he surveyed the entire +scene at a rapid glance. + +On his right, his father and sister. Near him the venerable old man, +with Mary by his side. Somewhat apart, stood the somber Godlike, and +the weazel-faced Yorke. In the background, the table, with the candles +burning dimly round over chest and coffin. Around him that hall, thick +on every panel with the memories of the past; and far in the shadows, +the white image of the master. + +And by yonder window, his form half concealed in the curtains, Randolph +looks out upon the black night. + +Dilating with an emotion which was incomprehensible to the spectators, +Nameless said. + +"No, father, I will not touch one dollar of this wealth. It is +accursed. Look at the passion it has evoked; look at the calamities +which it has wrought! It is accursed,--thrice accursed. It was this +wealth which impelled your own brother to attempt to corrupt my mother. +It was this wealth which made that brother follow me with remorseless +hatred, and to-night, for the sake of this, he planned my death. It +was this wealth which drove you from your native land, there to bury +all feeling in a church, which makes marriage a sacrament, and, at the +same time, prevents her priests from ever enjoying that sacrament, +from ever being hailed by the all-holy names of 'husband!' 'father!' +There you buried twenty-one years of your life, leaving your children +to breast the storm of life alone. It was this wealth which cast me, +in childhood, into the streets, without friend or home,--and do you +know the life I've lived? While you were saying mass at Rome, I was +committing murder, father,--I was being sentenced to death,--I was +buried alive in your family vault,--I was passing two years in a +madman's cell! Look at the work of your wealth! Let these gentlemen +(who, I doubt not, have been heirs of this estate in anticipation,) let +them speak, and tell what passions, like fiends evoked from nethermost +hell, this wealth has summoned into life! Speak, Martin Fulmer, you, +who for twenty-one years, have denied yourself the blessing of wife, +home, children; while in sleepless anguish you watched over this +wealth,--speak! What evil thought is there in earth or hell which it +has not called into deeds? No,--father,--lifting this hand to heaven, I +swear by that mother, whom you left to writhe alone upon her dying bed, +that I will not touch one dollar of the Van Huyden estate!" + +The Legate, that is to say, Gulian Van Huyden, was crushed by these +words; they fell upon him like a sentence of death. + +"My son! my son!" he gasped, "spare me!" + +"'Son' and 'father,' are words easily spoken," continued Nameless. +"Have you been a father to me? It would be very striking, and +altogether like the fifth act of a melodrama, no doubt, for me +to overlook your twenty-one years of silence, and with love and +tears consent to be your heir. But you have not been my father. My +father,--the father of my soul,--Cornelius Berman, lies a corpse +to-night. I forgive you, father, but I cannot _forget_, for I am not +the Savior; I am simply a man--" + +"Have you no mercy?" faltered the Legate, who stood in the presence of +his son like a criminal before his judge. "Do you not know your words +are killing me?" + +But Carl Raphael, as though all that was dark in his own life, all that +was dark in his mother's death-hour, held possession of his soul, would +not give his father one chance of justification. + +"A man, father, who has known so much suffering, that he now only +desires to forget the real world, in the ideal world created by his +own pencil; who only desires to turn his back upon wealth and all its +hatreds, and win his bread humbly, and away from the world, by the +toil of his hand. Mary!--thou who wast true to me, when I slept in the +coffin,--thou who wast true to me when I was the tenant of a madman's +cell,--Mary! come, let us go." + +While the spectators stood like statues,--all, save Randolph, who, with +his face from the light, took no notice of the scene,--he took Mary by +the hand, and moved toward the door. + +With one voice, his father, his sister, Martin Fulmer, called him back. + +"Carl! Carl! you must not go!" + +"My son! my son!" + +"Brother!" + +He lingered on the threshold, holding his beautiful wife by the hand. + +"Father! sister! brave Martin Fulmer! come and see me in my poor man's +home, and I will bless you from my heart for your presence. Come! +come,--but not to tempt me with the offer of wealth; that word spoken, +and we are strangers forever. For my oath is sworn, by the name of my +mother, never to touch one dollar of the Van Huyden estate, and that +oath is written up yonder!" + +With these words, Carl Raphael, son of Gulian Van Huyden, and heir of +One Hundred Million Dollars, took Mary by the hand, and passed from the +banquet-hall, and from the house in which, twenty-one years before, his +mother died. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + +ON THE OCEAN,--BY THE RIVER SHORE,--IN THE VATICAN,--ON THE PRAIRIE. + + +My task is almost done. This work was commenced in January, 1848,--it +is now June, 1852. Four years that have been of awful moment to the +great world, and that, to many of you my readers, have brought change, +affliction--have stripped you of those whose life was a part of your +life, and made your pathway rich only in graves. Four years! As I am +about to lay aside the pen, and shut the pages of this book, those four +years start up before me, in living shape; they wear familiar faces; +they speak with voices that never shall be heard on earth again. + + * * * * * + +Before the curtain falls, let us take a glance at the characters of our +history. + +Harry Royalton. He did not die under his brother's hands, but returned +to Hill Royal, where he drank, and gambled, and talked "secession," +until a kindly bullet, from the pistol of an antagonist in a duel, +relieved him of the woes of this life. + +Randolph Royalton was never seen in New York, after the 25th of +December, 1844. It is supposed that, aided by Martin Fulmer, he went +abroad, accompanied by his sister, the beautiful Esther. + +In January, 1845, Bernard Lynn, completely broken down in health and +appearance, returned, with his daughter, to Europe. He died soon +afterward in Florence. Eleanor, it has been rumored, committed the +moral suicide of burying her life in a convent. But let us hope, that +Eleanor, as well as Esther, will once more appear in active life. + +Israel Yorke still flourishes; the devil is good to his children. +Godlike, we believe, is yet upon the stage. And the apostolic Ishmael +Ghoul, still conducts the Daily Blaze, waxing fat and strong, in total +depravity. As for Sleevegammon, his competitor for public favor, he +still see-saws on the tight rope, with Conservatism on one side, and +Progress on the other. Blossom, the policeman, has retired from active +life, and now does a great deal of nothing, for three dollars a day, in +the Custom-House. Dr. Bulgin still thrives; he lately published a book +of 345 pages, as big as his own head almost, against "Socialism." We +have not been informed whether any monument of marble, with an obelisk +and an epitaph, has been erected in memory of the martyred "Bloodhound." + +Before we close our task, we will gaze upon four scenes; one of which +took place on the ocean; another, by the shore of Hudson river; a +third, in the Vatican, at Rome; the fourth and last, upon the boundless +prairie. + + * * * * * + +It was in January, 1845. + +One winter night, when the wind was bitter cold in New York, and the +snow lay white upon the hills of the northern land, there was a brave +ship resting motionless upon the ocean, not under a wintery sky, but +under a summer sky, and in an atmosphere soft and bland as June. On her +way from New York to the West Indies, she had been becalmed. She lay +under the starlit sky, with her image mirrored in every detail, upon +the motionless sea. All at once another light than the pale beams of +the stars, flashed over the smooth expanse, and a pyramid of flame rose +grandly into the sky. The ship was on fire; in less than two hours the +flame died away, and in place of the brave ship, there was a blackened +wreck upon the waters. All that escaped from the wreck were six souls; +the captain, three of the crew, and two passengers. Upon a hastily +constructed raft, with but a scanty supply of bread and water, behold +them, as they float alone upon the trackless ocean. For three days, +without a breath of air to fan the smooth expanse, they floated under +a burning sun, in sight of the wreck, and on the evening of the third +day, they shared the last crust of bread, and passed from lip to lip +the last can of water. It was on the evening of the fourth day, that +the captain, a brave old seaman, driven mad by the burning sun and +intolerable thirst, leaped overboard, and died, without a single effort +on the part of his companions to save him. His example was followed by +a sailor, an old tar, who had followed him over half the globe. Thus, +there remained upon the raft four persons; two passengers and two +sailors. + +It was the evening of the fifth day,--five days under the burning +sun,--two days and nights without water! + +The sun was setting. Like a globe of red hot metal, he hung on the +verge of the horizon, shooting his fiery rays through a thin purple +haze. + +The wreck had gone down, and the raft was alone upon the motionless +ocean. + +The sailors were seated near each other, on the side of the raft +most remote from the sun,--they were dressed in a coarse shirt and +trowsers,--and with their hands resting on their knees, and their faces +upon their hands, they seemed to have surrendered themselves to their +fate,--that is, to despair and death, by starvation. + +The passengers were on the other side of the raft; one of them was a +man of slender form, dressed in dark broadcloth; his head was buried +in his hands, and the setting sun shone on his hair, which, sleek and +brown lay behind his ears. Beside him, in a reclining posture, was the +other passenger, a woman; a woman who had escaped from the burning +vessel in her night-clothes, and who now, with the cloak of the man +spread beneath her, turns her dark eyes hopelessly to the setting sun. +A few days ago, with her proud bosom, and rounded limbs, and dark +eyes flashing from that face, whose clear, brown complexion indicated +her Spanish descent, she was very beautiful. Look at her now. Livid +circles beneath each eye, lips parched, cheeks hollow,--her bosom is +bare,--shrunken from its once voluptuous outline, it trembles with a +faint pulsation. Five days have made terrible havoc of your beauty, +proud Godiva! + +The man by her side raises his head from his hands,--in that sallow +face, lack-luster eyes, and hollowed cheeks, can you recognize the +smooth, fair visage of Herman Barnhurst? Alas! Herman, your prospect of +a West Indian paradise, with Godiva for the queen of your houris, is +rather dim just now. + +And the sky was above them, the trackless sea all around, the last +rays of the red sun in their faces; and not a sail in sight, Scan the +horizon, Herman, and in vain. + +"O! it is horrible to die thus," exclaimed Godiva, in a voice so faint +as to be scarcely audible. + +But Herman made no reply. + +And as the sailors raised their eyes,--wild and fiery from thirst and +hunger,--the sun went down, and night came at once upon the scene. + +"How beautiful they are,--the stars up yonder, Herman!" + +Still Herman did not reply. + +Godiva, resting one arm upon his knee, fell into a brief slumber, +which was broken by the most incongruous dreams. At length her dreams +resolved themselves into a view of Niagara Falls, that world of waters, +singing its awful hymn as it plunges into the abyss. She saw the cool +water, her face was bathed in the spray, and,--she awoke devoured by +maddening thirst. + +Herman had moved from her side; he was on the opposite side of the +raft, talking with the sailors in low tones. And the sailors looked +over their shoulders, with their fiery eyes, as they conversed with +Herman. + +Again she fell into a doze,--she was with her father this time, and +Eugene, her first love, by her side. Happy days!--innocent girlhood! + +She awoke with a start,--Herman was still with the sailors, conversing +in low tones. + +And thus the short night at the tropics wore on. It was near +sunrise, and yet very dark, when Godiva was dreaming--dreaming of +the night when, yet a pure girl, she was joined in marriage to the +brutal sensualist. There was the familiar parlor,--the white-haired +father,--the clergyman,--her profligate husband. And the husband bore +her again over the threshold, she struggling in his loathed embrace. +In the struggle she awoke,--sunrise was warm and bright upon the +waters,--and a fresh breeze fanned her burning cheek. Over her stood +Herman, his right hand upraised,--the knife which it grasped glittering +in the sun. + +"The lot has fallen on me!" he cried. + +"Herman!" she shrieked--and spread forth her hands. Too late! The knife +was buried in her bosom. + +"Woman you must die to save our lives!" + +Godiva never saw anything in this world, after that blow, which was +followed by a stream of blood. + +"Come! Let us drink!" shouted Herman to the sailors, his eyes rolling +all wild and mad. + +Only one of the sailors came and joined him, in that loathsome +draught. In the sunken features of the poor wretch, you but faintly +recognize--Arthur Conroy. + +The third sailor, rose trembling to his feet,--his cheeks hollowed and +his eyes sunken like the others. He folded his arms, and surveyed the +three,--the body of Godiva, with Herman and Conroy bending over her. + +And then the third sailor, with his great eyes flashing in their +sockets, burst into a maniac laugh, and cried,--"A sail! A sail!" + +The third sailor was Arthur Dermoyne. + +Loathsome as was the draught which they took, it assuaged their thirst, +and for a time stilled the madness in their veins. It was, therefore, +with a vision somewhat clear, that Herman and Conroy looked up, and +beheld a white sail breaking the monotony of the waste. + +They turned from the body of the dead woman with loathing. * * * The +sail grew nearer, nearer! A signal! "They are lowering a boat," cried +Herman, "we shall be saved!" + +"This is the very time of all others that I wished to see," said +Dermoyne, in that husky and unnatural voice,--"your hands are stained +with the blood of your paramour,--your heart beats with joy at the +sight of a sail,--now go!" And he pushed Herman from the raft, and +struck him on the hands, with the hilt of the knife, as the miserable +man clutched the timbers. + +"Mercy!" cried Herman, again clutching the raft. + +Again Dermoyne struck his hands with the hilt of the knife. + +"Go! Alice waits for you!" + +When the boat from the ship came up, the crew found two men stretched +insensible upon the raft, beside the body of a dead woman. As for +Herman, he had sunk from sight. + + * * * * * + +It was June, in the year 1848-- + +The flush of the summer evening, lay broad and warm upon the river, +when an old man came from the cottage door, and passing through the +garden gate, bent his steps toward the oak, which, standing by the +shore, caught upon its rugged trunk and wide-branching limbs, the +golden rays of the setting sun. + +He stood there, with uncovered brow, the breeze tossing his snow-white +hairs, and the evening flush warming over his venerable face. By his +side, grasping his hand, was a boy of some three years, with a glad, +happy face, and sunny hair. + +Before the old man and child spread the river, warm with golden light, +and white with sails. Yonder the palisades rose up into the evening +sky; and behind them, was the cottage, leaning against the cliff, with +boughs above its steep roof, vines about its pointed windows, and +before its door a garden, from whose beds of flowers a cool fountain +sent up its drops of spray, into the evening air. The cottage of +Cornelius Berman, just as it was in other days. + +Presently the father and the mother of the child came from the garden +gate, and approached the oak. A man of twenty-five years, with head +placed firmly on his shoulders, and a face whose clear gray eyes, +and forehead shaded by brown hair, indicate the artist, the man of +genius,--a woman who may be seventeen, who may be twenty, but whose +rounded form and pure _wifely_ face, link together the freshness of the +maiden, the ripe maturity of the woman. + +Beside the young wife, walks a young woman, whose form is not so full +and rounded in its beauty, but whose pale face, tinted with bloom on +the lips and cheek, is lighted by eyes that gleam with a sad, spiritual +light. Altogether, a face that touches you with its melancholy beauty, +and compares with the face of the wife, as a calm starlit night, with a +rosy summer morn. + +It is Carl Raphael, his wife, Mary, and his sister, now called Alice, +who come to join old Martin Fulmer on the river bank. Declining to +touch one dollar of the Van Huyden estate, and determined to earn his +bread by the toil of his hand, Carl still had fortune thrust upon +him,--for Mary was the only heir of the merchant prince, Evelyn Somers. + +"Doctor, I have a letter from father, who is now in Rome," said Carl, +as he stood by: the old man's side,--and he placed the letter from his +father, the Legate, in Martin Fulmer's hand. + +Martin seized the letter, and reading it eagerly, his eye brightening +up with the light of the olden time-- + +"Ah, Carl, he will soon return, he will at last relieve me of the care +of the Van Huyden estate! See how hopefully he speaks of the cause +of humanity in Europe,--in February, the people of France cast off +their chains,--now Italy is awake, and men with the soul of Rienzi and +the sword of Washington, direct her destinies,--the Pope, soon to be +stripped of his temporal power, will be no longer the tool of brutal +tyrants, the prisoner of atheist cardinals, but simply the Head of +a regenerated people, simply the first Priest of a redeemed church. +Glorious news, Carl; glorious news for us, in this free land; for +say what we will, Rome is a heart which never throbs, but that its +pulsations are felt throughout the world." + +"How can Rome directly affect us, Doctor?" + +"If the absolutist party in that church,--the party who regard Christ +but as their stepping-stone to unrestrained and brutal power,--obtain +the mastery, then, Carl, the last battle between that party and +humanity, will be fought not in Europe, but in this New World. Is there +a hill in this land, but is trod by a soldier of Rome? But if the party +of Progress in that church,--the party who believe in Christ, and hold +the Gospels as the inspired text-book of Democratic truth,--obtain the +ascendancy, then, instead of having to battle with the Catholic Church, +in this New World, the friends of humanity will find in it, their +strongest ally. Good news, Carl! The Pope, the Washington of Italy!" + +To which Carl,--happy in that little world of his own, where he lived +with his wife and child, afar from the great world,--said simply:-- + +"Martin, let us wait and see." + + * * * * * + +Some months after the conversation just recorded, a very brief scene, +but full of interest took place in Rome. + +Let us pass for a little while from the Empire City to the Eternal City. + +In one of the chambers of the Vatican, late at night, a lamp was +faintly burning, its rays struggling among the thick shadows which +hung about the lofty walls. Through an open window came a dim, ominous +murmur,--the voice of the arisen people of Rome. + +A man of some fifty years, whose black hair was plentifully sprinkled +with gray, paced up and down the marble floor, pausing every now and +then before a door, in the center of the chamber, to which he directed +his earnest gaze. Behind that door was the majesty of the Roman Church, +'the representative of God on earth'--the Pope of Rome. + +And the solitary watcher, dressed in the plain garb of a simple +ecclesiastic, was the Legate who had done the bidding of the Pontiff +over half the globe,--the Legate, Gulian Van Huyden. + +"Will he turn his back upon the people, and cast himself into the hands +of the tyrants? Will he, after his hand has grasped the plow of Human +Progress, falter and turn back, and give the power of the church into +the hands of the Iscariots of the human race? Can there be any truth in +the rumor?" + +And again he paused before the door, behind which was the chamber which +held the sovereign Pontiff. + +That door opened,--the Pope appeared. Clad not in the gorgeous costume +which he wears, when high upon his throne, he is carried by his guards, +through thousands and tens of thousands of his kneeling worshipers; but +clad in a loose robe or gown of dark silk, which, thrown open in front, +discloses his bared neck and disordered attire. For with his mild +countenance,--a countenance marked by irresolution,--displaying every +sign of perturbation, this "representative of God on earth," wears very +much the air of one who is about to fly from a falling house. + +"There can be no truth in this rumor, which I hear," and the Legate +steps forward almost fiercely, addressing the Pope without one word of +"majesty," or "holiness,"--"this rumor of flight?" + +It is in a soft and tremulous voice, (in Italian of course,) the Pope +replies,-- + +"If I stay, poison threatens me from _above_, the _dagger_ from +_below_." + +And then with a gesture, supplicating silence and secrecy on the part +of the Legate, the Pope retires and closes the door. + +"Significant words! Poison threatens him from above,--from the +cardinals,--the dagger from below,--from the people. The danger from +the cardinals is not imaginary--there was once a Pope named Ganganelli, +who suppressed the Jesuits, and in less than three months died horribly +of poison. But the people, Pius? O, Pope without nerve, without faith +in God, without hope in man, know you not, that were you to fulfill +your apostolate of Liberty, the very women and children of Rome would, +in your defense, build around you a rampart of their dead bodies?" + +He walked to the window, up to which from the sleepless city, came the +voices of arisen Rome: + +"God help the Roman people!" he exclaimed; "God confound the schemes +of the tyrants, who now plot the murder of the Roman people! At last, +after five hundred years of wrong, the Nightmare of Priesthood is +lifted from the breast of Italy. Italy has heard at last, the voice of +God, calling upon her sons to arise--to cast these priestly idlers from +their thrones--to assert the Democracy of the Gospel in face of tyrants +of all shapes, whether dressed in military gear, in solemn black, or in +Borgian scarlet. Italy has risen!" + +And turning from the window, he paced the floor again,-- + +"My work is done in Rome. The Pope and the church in the hands of +crowned and mitred miscreants, who having crushed the last spark of +liberty in the Old World, will not be long ere they open their trenches +before her last altar in the New World! Away to the New World then; if +the battle must come, let us, let the friends of humanity, strike the +first blow!" + + * * * * * + +Away from the eternal city,--to the New World,--to the boundless +horizon and ocean-like expanse of the prairies. The sun is setting over +one of those vast prairies, which stretch between the Mississippi and +the Rocky Mountains. The monotony of that vast expanse, covered with +grass that rolls and swells, like the wave of old ocean, is broken by +a gentle knoll, crowned by a single giant oak. The setting sun flings +the shadow of that solitary tree, black and long, over the prairie. +Far, far in the west, a white peak rises like an altar from the +horizon, into the sky--it is a peak of the Rocky Mountains. And gazing +to the east, you behold nothing save the prairie and the sky,--yes! a +herd of buffalo are grazing yonder, and a long caravan of wagons, drawn +by mules, and flanked by armed men who ride or go afoot, winds like an +immense serpent, far over the plain. + +Three hundred emigrants, mechanics, their wives and little ones, who +have left the savage civilization of the Atlantic cities, for a free +home beyond the Rocky Mountains--such is the band which now moves on in +the light of the fading day. + +The leader of the band, a man in the prime of young manhood, dressed in +the garb of a hunter, with a rifle on his shoulder, stands beneath the +solitary oak, gazing upon the caravan as it comes on. His face bears +traces of much thought,--perchance of many a dark hour,--but now his +eyes shine clear and strong, with the enthusiasm which springs from +deep convictions: + +"Thus far toward freedom! Here they come,--three hundred serfs of the +Atlantic cities, rescued from poverty, from wages-slavery, from the war +of competition, from the grip of the landlord! Thus far toward a soil +which they can call their own; thus far toward a free home. And thou, +O! Christ, who didst live and die, so that all men might be brothers, +bless us, and be with us, and march by our side, in this our exodus." + +The speaker was the Socialist,--Arthur Dermoyne. + +And let us all, as we survey the masses of the human race, attempting +their exodus from thraldom of all kinds,--of the body,--of the +soul,--from the tyranny which crushes man by the iron hand of brute +force, or slowly kills him by the lawful operation of capital, +labor-saving machinery, or monied enterprise,--let us, too, send up our +prayer, "O! THOU of Nazareth, go with the People in this their exodus, +dwell with them in their tents, beacon with light, their hard way to +the Promised Land!" + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of New York: Its Upper Ten and Lower +Million, by George Lippard + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57785 *** |