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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2043-0.txt b/2043-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c3e06d --- /dev/null +++ b/2043-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14476 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stories by Modern American Authors +#4 in our Lock and Key series edited by Julian Hawthorne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Stories by Modern American Authors + +Author: Julian Hawthorne + +Release Date: Jaanuary 1, 2000 [eBook #2043] +[Most recently updated: September 26, 2023] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Revised by: Richard Tonsing. + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK Stories by MODERN AMERICAN AUTHORS *** + + + + +THE LOCK AND KEY LIBRARY + +THE MOST INTERESTING STORIES OF ALL NATIONS + + +Edited by Julian Hawthorne + + +AMERICAN + + + + +Table of Contents + + +INTRODUCTION BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE + +“Riddle Stories” + + +F. MARION CRAWFORD (1854–) +By the Waters of Paradise + + +MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN (1862–) +The Shadows on the Wall + + +MELVILLE D. POST (1871–) +The Corpus Delicti + + +AMBROSE BIERCE (1842–) +An Heiress from Redhorse +The Man and the Snake + + +EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809–49) +The Oblong Box +The Gold-Bug + + +WASHINGTON IRVING (1783–1859) +Wolfert Webber, or Golden Dreams +Adventure of the Black Fisherman + + +CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN (1771–1810) +Wieland’s Madness + + +FITZJAMES O’BRIEN (1828–1862) +The Golden Ingot +My Wife’s Tempter + + +NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (1804–1864) +The Minister’s Black Veil + + +ANONYMOUS +Horror: A True Tale + + + + +“Riddle Stories” + +Introduction by Julian Hawthorne + + +When Poe wrote his immortal Dupin tales, the name “Detective” +stories had not been invented; the detective of fiction not having +been as yet discovered. And the title is still something of a +misnomer, for many narratives involving a puzzle of some sort, +though belonging to the category which I wish to discuss, are +handled by the writer without expert detective aid. Sometimes the +puzzle solves itself through operation of circumstance; sometimes +somebody who professes no special detective skill happens upon the +secret of its mystery; once in a while some venturesome genius has +the courage to leave his enigma unexplained. But ever since +Gaboriau created his Lecoq, the transcendent detective has been in +favor; and Conan Doyle’s famous gentleman analyst has given him a +fresh lease of life, and reanimated the stage by reverting to the +method of Poe. Sherlock Holmes is Dupin redivivus, and mutatus +mutandis; personally he is a more stirring and engaging companion, +but so far as kinship to probabilities or even possibilities is +concerned, perhaps the older version of him is the more +presentable. But in this age of marvels we seem less difficult to +suit in this respect than our forefathers were. + +The fact is, meanwhile, that, in the riddle story, the detective +was an afterthought, or, more accurately, a deus ex machina to make +the story go. The riddle had to be unriddled; and who could do it +so naturally and readily as a detective? The detective, as Poe saw +him, was a means to this end; and it was only afterwards that +writers perceived his availability as a character. Lecoq +accordingly becomes a figure in fiction, and Sherlock, while he was +as yet a novelty, was nearly as attractive as the complications in +which he involved himself. Riddle-story writers in general, +however, encounter the obvious embarrassment that their detective +is obliged to lavish so much attention on the professional services +which the exigencies of the tale demand of him, that he has very +little leisure to expound his own personal equation—the rather +since the attitude of peering into a millstone is not, of itself, +conducive to elucidations of oneself; the professional endowment +obscures all the others. We ordinarily find, therefore, our author +dismissing the individuality of his detective with a few strong +black-chalk outlines, and devoting his main labor upon what he +feels the reader will chiefly occupy his own ingenuity with,— +namely, the elaboration of the riddle itself. Reader and writer +sit down to a game, as it were, with the odds, of course, +altogether on the latter’s side,—apart from the fact that a writer +sometimes permits himself a little cheating. It more often happens +that the detective appears to be in the writer’s pay, and aids the +deception by leading the reader off on false scents. Be that as it +may, the professional sleuth is in nine cases out of ten a dummy by +malice prepense; and it might be plausibly argued that, in the +interests of pure art, that is what he ought to be. But genius +always finds a way that is better than the rules, and I think it +will be found that the very best riddle stories contrive to drive +character and riddle side by side, and to make each somehow enhance +the effect of the other.—The intention of the above paragraph will +be more precisely conveyed if I include under the name of detective +not only the man from the central office, but also anybody whom the +writer may, for ends of his own, consider better qualified for that +function. The latter is a professional detective so far as the +exigencies of the tale are concerned, and what becomes of him after +that nobody need care,—there is no longer anything to prevent his +becoming, in his own right, the most fascinating of mankind. + +But in addition to the dummyship of the detective, or to the cases +in which the mere slip of circumstance takes his place, there is +another reason against narrowing our conception of the riddle story +to the degree which the alternative appellation would imply. And +that is, that it would exclude not a few of the most captivating +riddle stories in existence; for in De Quincey’s “Avenger,” for +example, the interest is not in the unraveling of the web, but in +the weaving of it. The same remark applies to Bulwer’s “Strange +Story”; it is the strangeness that is the thing. There is, in +short, an inalienable charm in the mere contemplation of mystery +and the hazard of fortunes; and it would be a pity to shut them out +from our consideration only because there is no second-sighted +conjurer on hand to turn them into plain matter of fact. + +Yet we must not be too liberal; and a ghost story can be brought +into our charmed and charming circle only if we have made up our +minds to believe in the ghosts; otherwise their introduction would +not be a square deal. It would not be fair, in other words, to +propose a conundrum on a basis of ostensible materialism, and then, +when no other key would fit, to palm off a disembodied spirit on +us. Tell me beforehand that your scenario is to include both +worlds, and I have no objection to make; I simply attune my mind to +the more extensive scope. But I rebel at an unheralded ghostland, +and declare frankly that your tale is incredible. And I must +confess that I would as lief have ghosts kept out altogether; their +stories make a very good library in themselves, and have no need to +tag themselves on to what is really another department of fiction. +Nevertheless, when a ghost story is told with the consummate art of +a Miss Wilkins, and of one or two others on our list, consistency +in this regard ceases to be a jewel; art proves irresistible. As +for adventure stories, there is a fringe of them that comes under +the riddle-story head; but for the most part the riddle story +begins after the adventures have finished. We are to contemplate a +condition, not to watch the events that ultimate in it. Our +detective, or anyone else, may of course meet with haps and mishaps +on his way to the solution of his puzzle; but an astute writer will +not color such incidents too vividly, lest he risk forfeiting our +preoccupation with the problem that we came forth for to study. In +a word, One thing at a time! + +The foregoing disquisition may seem uncalled for by such rigid +moralists as have made up their minds not to regard detective, or +riddle stories, as any part of respectable literature at all. With +that sect, I announce at the outset that I am entirely out of +sympathy. It is not needed to compare “The Gold Bug” with +“Paradise Lost”; nobody denies the superior literary stature of the +latter, although, as the Oxford Senior Wrangler objected, “What +does it prove?” But I appeal to Emerson, who, in his poem of “The +Mountain and the Squirrel,” states the nub of the argument, with +incomparable felicity, as follows:—you will recall that the two +protagonists had a difference, originating in the fact that the +former called the latter “Little Prig.” Bun made a very sprightly +retort, summing up to this effect:— + + + “Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut.” + + +Andes and Paradises Lost are expedient and perhaps necessary in +their proper atmosphere and function; but Squirrels and Gold Bugs +are indispensable in our daily walk. There is as fine and as true +literature in Poe’s Tales as in Milton’s epics; only the elevation +and dimensions differ. But I would rather live in a world that +possessed only literature of the Poe caliber, than shiver in one +echoing solely the strains of the Miltonian muse. Mere human +beings are not constructed to stand all day a-tiptoe on the misty +mountain tops; they like to walk the streets most of the time and +sit in easy chairs. And writings that picture the human mind and +nature, in true colors and in artistic proportions, are literature, +and nobody has any business to pooh-pooh them. In fact, I feel as +if I were knocking down a man of straw. I look in vain for any +genuine resistance. Of course “The Gold Bug” is literature; of +course any other story of mystery and puzzle is also literature, +provided it is as good as “The Gold Bug,”—or I will say, since +that standard has never since been quite attained, provided it is a +half or a tenth as good. It is goldsmith’s work; it is Chinese +carving; it is Daedalian; it is fine. It is the product of the +ingenuity lobe of the human brain working and expatiating in +freedom. It is art; not spiritual or transcendental art, but solid +art, to be felt and experienced. You may examine it at your +leisure, it will be always ready for you; you need not fast or +watch your arms overnight in order to understand it. Look at the +nice setting of the mortises; mark how the cover fits; how smooth +is the working of that spring drawer. Observe that this bit of +carving, which seemed mere ornament, is really a vital part of the +mechanism. Note, moreover, how balanced and symmetrical the whole +design is, with what economy and foresight every part is fashioned. +It is not only an ingenious structure, it is a handsome bit of +furniture, and will materially improve the looks of the empty +chambers, or disorderly or ungainly chambers that you carry under +your crown. Or if it happen that these apartments are noble in +decoration and proportions, then this captivating little object +will find a suitable place in some spare nook or other, and will +rest or entertain eyes too long focused on the severely sublime and +beautiful. I need not, however, rely upon abstract argument to +support my contention. Many of the best writers of all time have +used their skill in the inverted form of story telling, as a glance +at our table of contents will show; and many of their tales depend +for their effect as much on character and atmosphere as on the play +and complication of events. + +The statement that a good detective or riddle story is good in art +is supported by the fact that the supply of really good ones is +relatively small, while the number of writers who would write good +ones if they could, and who have tried and failed to write them, is +past computation. And one reason probably is that such stories, +for their success, must depend primarily upon structure—a sound +and perfect plot—which is one of the rare things in our +contemporary fiction. Our writers get hold of an incident, or a +sentiment, or a character, or a moral principle, or a hit of +technical knowledge, or a splotch of local color, or even of a new +version of dialect, and they will do something in two to ten +thousand words out of that and call it a short story. Magazines +may be found to print it—for there are all manner of magazines; +but nothing of that sort will serve for a riddle story. You cannot +make a riddle story by beginning it and then trusting to luck to +bring it to an end. You must know all about the end and the middle +before thinking, even, of the beginning; the beginning of a riddle +story, unlike those of other stories and of other enterprises, is +not half the battle; it is next to being quite unimportant, and, +moreover, it is always easy. The unexplained corpse lies weltering +in its gore in the first paragraph; the inexplicable cipher +presents its enigma at the turning of the opening page. The writer +who is secure in the knowledge that he has got a good thing coming, +and has arranged the manner and details of its coming, cannot go +far wrong with his exordium; he wants to get into action at once, +and that is his best assurance that he will do it in the right way. +But O! what a labor and sweat it is; what a planning and trimming; +what a remodeling, curtailing, interlining; what despairs succeeded +by new lights, what heroic expedients tried at the last moment, and +dismissed the moment after; what wastepaper baskets full of +futilities, and what gallant commencements all over again! Did the +reader know, or remotely suspect, what terrific struggles the +writer of a really good detective story had sustained, he would +regard the final product with a new wonder and respect, and read it +all over once more to find out how the troubles occurred. But he +will search in vain; there are no signs of them left; no, not so +much as a scar. The tale moves along as smoothly and inevitably as +oiled machinery; obviously, it could not have been arranged +otherwise than it is; and the wise reader is convinced that he +could have done the thing himself without half trying. At that, +the weary writer smiles a bitter smile; but it is one of the spurns +that patient merit of the unworthy takes. Nobody, except him who +has tried it, will ever know how hard it is to write a really good +detective story. The man or woman who can do it can also write a +good play (according to modern ideas of plays), and possesses force +of character, individuality, and mental ability. He or she must +combine the intuition of the artist with the talent of the master +mechanic, but will seldom be a poet, and will generally care more +for things and events than for fellow creatures. For, although the +story is often concerned with righting some wrong, or avenging some +murder, yet it must be confessed that the author commonly succeeds +better in the measure of his ruthlessness in devising crimes and +giving his portraits of devils an extra touch of black. Mercy is +not his strong point, however he may abound in justice; and he will +not stickle at piling up the agony, if thereby he provides +opportunity for enhancing the picturesqueness and completeness of +the evil doer’s due. + +But this leads me to the admission that one charge, at least, does +lie against the door of the riddle-story writer; and that is, that +he is not sincere; he makes his mysteries backward, and knows the +answer to his riddle before he states its terms. He deliberately +supplies his reader, also, with all manner of false scents, well +knowing them to be such; and concocts various seeming artless and +innocent remarks and allusions, which in reality are diabolically +artful, and would deceive the very elect. All this, I say, must be +conceded; but it is not unfair; the very object, ostensibly, of the +riddle story is to prompt you to sharpen your wits; and as you are +yourself the real detective in the case, so you must regard your +author as the real criminal whom you are to detect. Credit no +statement of his save as supported by the clearest evidence; be +continually repeating to yourself, “Timeo Danaos et dona +ferentes,”—nay, never so much as then. But, as I said before, +when the game is well set, you have no chance whatever against the +dealer; and for my own part, I never try to be clever when I go up +against these thimble-riggers; I believe all they tell me, and +accept the most insolent gold bricks; and in that way I +occasionally catch some of the very ablest of them napping; for +they are so subtle that they will sometimes tell you the truth +because they think you will suppose it to be a lie. I do not wish +to catch them napping, however; I cling to the wisdom of ignorance, +and childishly enjoy the way in which things work themselves out— +the cul-de-sac resolving itself at the very last moment into a +promising corridor toward the outer air. At every rebuff it is my +happiness to be hopelessly bewildered; and I gape with admiration +when the Gordian knot is untied. If the author be old-fashioned +enough to apostrophize the Gentle Reader, I know he must mean me, +and docilely give ear, and presently tumble head-foremost into the +treacherous pit he has digged for me. In brief, I am there to be +sold, and I get my money’s worth. No one can thoroughly enjoy +riddle stories unless he is old enough, or young enough, or, at any +rate, wise enough to appreciate the value of the faculty of being +surprised. Those sardonic and omniscient persons who know +everything beforehand, and smile compassionately or scornfully at +the artless outcries of astonishment of those who are uninformed, +may get an ill-natured satisfaction out of the persuasion that they +are superior beings; but there is very little meat in that sort of +happiness, and the uninformed have the better lot after all. + +I need hardly point out that there is a distinction and a +difference between short riddle stories and long ones—novels. The +former require far more technical art for their proper development; +the enigma cannot be posed in so many ways, but must be stated once +for all; there cannot be false scents, or but a few of them; there +can be small opportunity for character drawing, and all kinds of +ornament and comment must be reduced to their very lowest terms. +Here, indeed, as everywhere, genius will have its way; and while a +merely talented writer would deem it impossible to tell the story +of “The Gold Bug” in less than a volume, Poe could do it in a few +thousand words, and yet appear to have said everything worth +saying. In the case of the Sherlock Holmes tales, they form a +series, and our previous knowledge of the hero enables the writer +to dispense with much description and accompaniment that would be +necessary had that eminent personage been presented in only a +single complication of events. Each special episode of the great +analyst’s career can therefore be handled with the utmost economy, +and yet fill all the requirements of intelligent interest and +comprehension. But, as a rule, the riddle novel approaches its +theme in a spirit essentially other than that which inspires the +short tale. We are given, as it were, a wide landscape instead of +a detailed genre picture. The number of the dramatis personae is +much larger, and the parts given to many of them may be very small, +though each should have his or her necessary function in the +general plan. It is much easier to create perplexity on these +terms; but on the other hand, the riddle novel demands a power of +vivid character portrayal and of telling description which are not +indispensable in the briefer narrative. A famous tale, published +perhaps forty years ago, but which cannot be included in our +series, tells the story of a murder the secret of which is +admirably concealed till the last; and much of the fascination of +the book is due to the ability with which the leading character, +and some of the subordinate ones, are drawn. The author was a +woman, and I have often marveled that women so seldom attempt this +form of literature; many of them possess a good constructive +faculty, and their love of detail and of mystery is notorious. +Perhaps they are too fond of sentiment; and sentiment must be +handled with caution in riddle stories. The fault of all riddle +novels is that they inevitably involve two kinds of interest, and +can seldom balance these so perfectly that one or the other of them +shall not suffer. The mind of the reader becomes weary in its +frequent journeys between human characters on one side the +mysterious events on the other, and would prefer the more single- +eyed treatment of the short tale. Wonder, too, is a very tender +and short-lived emotion, and sometimes perishes after a few pages. +Curiosity is tougher; but that too may be baffled too long, and end +by tiring of the pursuit while it is yet in its early stages. Many +excellent plots, admirable from the constructive point of view, +have been wasted by stringing them out too far; the reader +recognizes their merit, but loses his enthusiasm on account of a +sort of monotony of strain; he wickedly turns to the concluding +chapter, and the game is up. “The Woman in White,” by Wilkie +Collins, was published about 1860, I think, in weekly installments, +and certainly they were devoured with insatiable appetite by many +thousands of readers. But I doubt whether a book of similar merit +could command such a following to-day; and I will even confess that +I have myself never read the concluding parts, and do not know to +this day who the woman was or what were the wrongs from which she +so poignantly suffered. + +The tales contained in the volumes herewith offered are the best +riddle or detective stories in the world, according to the best +judgment of the editors. They are the product of writers of all +nations; and translation, in this case, is less apt to be +misleading than with most other forms of literature, for a mystery +or a riddle is equally captivating in all languages. Many of the +good ones—perhaps some of the best ones—have been left out, +either because we missed them in our search, or because we had to +choose between them and others seemingly of equal excellence, and +were obliged to consider space limitations which, however +generously laid out, must have some end at last. Be that as it +may, we believe that there are enough good stories here to satisfy +the most Gargantuan hunger, and we feel sure that our volumes will +never be crowded off the shelf which has once made room for them. +If we have, now and then, a little transcended the strict +definition of the class of fiction which our title would promise, +we shall nevertheless not anticipate any serious quarrel with our +readers; if there be room to question the right of any given story +to appear in this company, there will be all the more reason for +accepting it on its own merits; for it had to be very good indeed +in order to overcome its technical disqualification. And if it did +not rightfully belong here, there would probably be objections as +strong to admitting it in any other collection. Between two or +more stools, it would be a pity to let it fall to the ground; so +let it be forgiven, and please us with whatever gift it has. + +In many cases where copyrights were still unexpired, we have to +express our acknowledgments to writers and publishers who have +accorded us the courtesy of their leave to reproduce what their +genius or enterprise has created and put forth. To our readers we +take pleasure in presenting what we know cannot fail to give them +pleasure—a collection of the fruits of the finest literary +ingenuity and nicest art accessible to the human mind. Gaudeat, +non caveat emptor! + +JULIAN HAWTHORNE. + + + + +American Mystery Stories + + + + +F. Marion Crawford + + + + +By the Waters of Paradise + + +I + + +I remember my childhood very distinctly. I do not think that the +fact argues a good memory, for I have never been clever at learning +words by heart, in prose or rhyme; so that I believe my remembrance +of events depends much more upon the events themselves than upon my +possessing any special facility for recalling them. Perhaps I am +too imaginative, and the earliest impressions I received were of a +kind to stimulate the imagination abnormally. A long series of +little misfortunes, so connected with each other as to suggest a +sort of weird fatality, so worked upon my melancholy temperament +when I was a boy that, before I was of age, I sincerely believed +myself to be under a curse, and not only myself, but my whole +family and every individual who bore my name. + +I was born in the old place where my father, and his father, and +all his predecessors had been born, beyond the memory of man. It +is a very old house, and the greater part of it was originally a +castle, strongly fortified, and surrounded by a deep moat supplied +with abundant water from the hills by a hidden aqueduct. Many of +the fortifications have been destroyed, and the moat has been +filled up. The water from the aqueduct supplies great fountains, +and runs down into huge oblong basins in the terraced gardens, one +below the other, each surrounded by a broad pavement of marble +between the water and the flower-beds. The waste surplus finally +escapes through an artificial grotto, some thirty yards long, into +a stream, flowing down through the park to the meadows beyond, and +thence to the distant river. The buildings were extended a little +and greatly altered more than two hundred years ago, in the time of +Charles II., but since then little has been done to improve them, +though they have been kept in fairly good repair, according to our +fortunes. + +In the gardens there are terraces and huge hedges of box and +evergreen, some of which used to be clipped into shapes of animals, +in the Italian style. I can remember when I was a lad how I used +to try to make out what the trees were cut to represent, and how I +used to appeal for explanations to Judith, my Welsh nurse. She +dealt in a strange mythology of her own, and peopled the gardens +with griffins, dragons, good genii and bad, and filled my mind with +them at the same time. My nursery window afforded a view of the +great fountains at the head of the upper basin, and on moonlight +nights the Welshwoman would hold me up to the glass and bid me look +at the mist and spray rising into mysterious shapes, moving +mystically in the white light like living things. + +“It’s the Woman of the Water,” she used to say; and sometimes she +would threaten that if I did not go to sleep the Woman of the Water +would steal up to the high window and carry me away in her wet +arms. + +The place was gloomy. The broad basins of water and the tall +evergreen hedges gave it a funereal look, and the damp-stained +marble causeways by the pools might have been made of tombstones. +The gray and weather-beaten walls and towers without, the dark and +massively furnished rooms within, the deep, mysterious recesses and +the heavy curtains, all affected my spirits. I was silent and sad +from my childhood. There was a great clock tower above, from which +the hours rang dismally during the day, and tolled like a knell in +the dead of night. There was no light nor life in the house, for +my mother was a helpless invalid, and my father had grown +melancholy in his long task of caring for her. He was a thin, dark +man, with sad eyes; kind, I think, but silent and unhappy. Next to +my mother, I believe he loved me better than anything on earth, for +he took immense pains and trouble in teaching me, and what he +taught me I have never forgotten. Perhaps it was his only +amusement, and that may be the reason why I had no nursery +governess or teacher of any kind while he lived. + +I used to be taken to see my mother every day, and sometimes twice +a day, for an hour at a time. Then I sat upon a little stool near +her feet, and she would ask me what I had been doing, and what I +wanted to do. I dare say she saw already the seeds of a profound +melancholy in my nature, for she looked at me always with a sad +smile, and kissed me with a sigh when I was taken away. + +One night, when I was just six years old, I lay awake in the +nursery. The door was not quite shut, and the Welsh nurse was +sitting sewing in the next room. Suddenly I heard her groan, and +say in a strange voice, “One—two—one—two!” I was frightened, +and I jumped up and ran to the door, barefooted as I was. + +“What is it, Judith?” I cried, clinging to her skirts. I can +remember the look in her strange dark eyes as she answered: + +“One—two leaden coffins, fallen from the ceiling!” she crooned, +working herself in her chair. “One—two—a light coffin and a +heavy coffin, falling to the floor!” + +Then she seemed to notice me, and she took me back to bed and sang +me to sleep with a queer old Welsh song. + +I do not know how it was, but the impression got hold of me that +she had meant that my father and mother were going to die very +soon. They died in the very room where she had been sitting that +night. It was a great room, my day nursery, full of sun when there +was any; and when the days were dark it was the most cheerful place +in the house. My mother grew rapidly worse, and I was transferred +to another part of the building to make place for her. They +thought my nursery was gayer for her, I suppose; but she could not +live. She was beautiful when she was dead, and I cried bitterly. + +“The light one, the light one—the heavy one to come,” crooned the +Welshwoman. And she was right. My father took the room after my +mother was gone, and day by day he grew thinner and paler and +sadder. + +“The heavy one, the heavy one—all of lead,” moaned my nurse, one +night in December, standing still, just as she was going to take +away the light after putting me to bed. Then she took me up again +and wrapped me in a little gown, and led me away to my father’s +room. She knocked, but no one answered. She opened the door, and +we found him in his easy chair before the fire, very white, quite +dead. + +So I was alone with the Welshwoman till strange people came, and +relations whom I had never seen; and then I heard them saying that +I must be taken away to some more cheerful place. They were kind +people, and I will not believe that they were kind only because I +was to be very rich when I grew to be a man. The world never +seemed to be a very bad place to me, nor all the people to be +miserable sinners, even when I was most melancholy. I do not +remember that anyone ever did me any great injustice, nor that I +was ever oppressed or ill treated in any way, even by the boys at +school. I was sad, I suppose, because my childhood was so gloomy, +and, later, because I was unlucky in everything I undertook, till I +finally believed I was pursued by fate, and I used to dream that +the old Welsh nurse and the Woman of the Water between them had +vowed to pursue me to my end. But my natural disposition should +have been cheerful, as I have often thought. + +Among the lads of my age I was never last, or even among the last, +in anything; but I was never first. If I trained for a race, I was +sure to sprain my ankle on the day when I was to run. If I pulled +an oar with others, my oar was sure to break. If I competed for a +prize, some unforeseen accident prevented my winning it at the last +moment. Nothing to which I put my hand succeeded, and I got the +reputation of being unlucky, until my companions felt it was always +safe to bet against me, no matter what the appearances might be. I +became discouraged and listless in everything. I gave up the idea +of competing for any distinction at the University, comforting +myself with the thought that I could not fail in the examination +for the ordinary degree. The day before the examination began I +fell ill; and when at last I recovered, after a narrow escape from +death, I turned my back upon Oxford, and went down alone to visit +the old place where I had been born, feeble in health and +profoundly disgusted and discouraged. I was twenty-one years of +age, master of myself and of my fortune; but so deeply had the long +chain of small unlucky circumstances affected me that I thought +seriously of shutting myself up from the world to live the life of +a hermit and to die as soon as possible. Death seemed the only +cheerful possibility in my existence, and my thoughts soon dwelt +upon it altogether. + +I had never shown any wish to return to my own home since I had +been taken away as a little boy, and no one had ever pressed me to +do so. The place had been kept in order after a fashion, and did +not seem to have suffered during the fifteen years or more of my +absence. Nothing earthly could affect those old gray walls that +had fought the elements for so many centuries. The garden was more +wild than I remembered it; the marble causeways about the pools +looked more yellow and damp than of old, and the whole place at +first looked smaller. It was not until I had wandered about the +house and grounds for many hours that I realized the huge size of +the home where I was to live in solitude. Then I began to delight +in it, and my resolution to live alone grew stronger. + +The people had turned out to welcome me, of course, and I tried to +recognize the changed faces of the old gardener and the old +housekeeper, and to call them by name. My old nurse I knew at +once. She had grown very gray since she heard the coffins fall in +the nursery fifteen years before, but her strange eyes were the +same, and the look in them woke all my old memories. She went over +the house with me. + +“And how is the Woman of the Water?” I asked, trying to laugh a +little. “Does she still play in the moonlight?” + +“She is hungry,” answered the Welshwoman, in a low voice. + +“Hungry? Then we will feed her.” I laughed. But old Judith +turned very pale, and looked at me strangely. + +“Feed her? Aye—you will feed her well,” she muttered, glancing +behind her at the ancient housekeeper, who tottered after us with +feeble steps through the halls and passages. + +I did not think much of her words. She had always talked oddly, as +Welshwomen will, and though I was very melancholy I am sure I was +not superstitious, and I was certainly not timid. Only, as in a +far-off dream, I seemed to see her standing with the light in her +hand and muttering, “The heavy one—all of lead,” and then leading +a little boy through the long corridors to see his father lying +dead in a great easy chair before a smoldering fire. So we went +over the house, and I chose the rooms where I would live; and the +servants I had brought with me ordered and arranged everything, and +I had no more trouble. I did not care what they did provided I was +left in peace and was not expected to give directions; for I was +more listless than ever, owing to the effects of my illness at +college. + +I dined in solitary state, and the melancholy grandeur of the vast +old dining-room pleased me. Then I went to the room I had selected +for my study, and sat down in a deep chair, under a bright light, +to think, or to let my thoughts meander through labyrinths of their +own choosing, utterly indifferent to the course they might take. + +The tall windows of the room opened to the level of the ground upon +the terrace at the head of the garden. It was in the end of July, +and everything was open, for the weather was warm. As I sat alone +I heard the unceasing splash of the great fountains, and I fell to +thinking of the Woman of the Water. I rose and went out into the +still night, and sat down upon a seat on the terrace, between two +gigantic Italian flower pots. The air was deliciously soft and +sweet with the smell of the flowers, and the garden was more +congenial to me than the house. Sad people always like running +water and the sound of it at night, though I cannot tell why. I +sat and listened in the gloom, for it was dark below, and the pale +moon had not yet climbed over the hills in front of me, though all +the air above was light with her rising beams. Slowly the white +halo in the eastern sky ascended in an arch above the wooded +crests, making the outlines of the mountains more intensely black +by contrast, as though the head of some great white saint were +rising from behind a screen in a vast cathedral, throwing misty +glories from below. I longed to see the moon herself, and I tried +to reckon the seconds before she must appear. Then she sprang up +quickly, and in a moment more hung round and perfect in the sky. I +gazed at her, and then at the floating spray of the tall fountains, +and down at the pools, where the water lilies were rocking softly +in their sleep on the velvet surface of the moonlit water. Just +then a great swan floated out silently into the midst of the basin, +and wreathed his long neck, catching the water in his broad bill, +and scattering showers of diamonds around him. + +Suddenly, as I gazed, something came between me and the light. I +looked up instantly. Between me and the round disk of the moon +rose a luminous face of a woman, with great strange eyes, and a +woman’s mouth, full and soft, but not smiling, hooded in black, +staring at me as I sat still upon my bench. She was close to me— +so close that I could have touched her with my hand. But I was +transfixed and helpless. She stood still for a moment, but her +expression did not change. Then she passed swiftly away, and my +hair stood up on my head, while the cold breeze from her white +dress was wafted to my temples as she moved. The moonlight, +shining through the tossing spray of the fountain, made traceries +of shadow on the gleaming folds of her garments. In an instant she +was gone and I was alone. + +I was strangely shaken by the vision, and some time passed before I +could rise to my feet, for I was still weak from my illness, and +the sight I had seen would have startled anyone. I did not reason +with myself, for I was certain that I had looked on the unearthly, +and no argument could have destroyed that belief. At last I got up +and stood unsteadily, gazing in the direction in which I thought +the face had gone; but there was nothing to be seen—nothing but +the broad paths, the tall, dark evergreen hedges, the tossing water +of the fountains and the smooth pool below. I fell back upon the +seat and recalled the face I had seen. Strange to say, now that +the first impression had passed, there was nothing startling in the +recollection; on the contrary, I felt that I was fascinated by the +face, and would give anything to see it again. I could retrace the +beautiful straight features, the long dark eyes, and the wonderful +mouth most exactly in my mind, and when I had reconstructed every +detail from memory I knew that the whole was beautiful, and that I +should love a woman with such a face. + +“I wonder whether she is the Woman of the Water!” I said to myself. +Then rising once more, I wandered down the garden, descending one +short flight of steps after another from terrace to terrace by the +edge of the marble basins, through the shadow and through the +moonlight; and I crossed the water by the rustic bridge above the +artificial grotto, and climbed slowly up again to the highest +terrace by the other side. The air seemed sweeter, and I was very +calm, so that I think I smiled to myself as I walked, as though a +new happiness had come to me. The woman’s face seemed always +before me, and the thought of it gave me an unwonted thrill of +pleasure, unlike anything I had ever felt before. + +I turned as I reached the house, and looked back upon the scene. +It had certainly changed in the short hour since I had come out, +and my mood had changed with it. Just like my luck, I thought, to +fall in love with a ghost! But in old times I would have sighed, +and gone to bed more sad than ever, at such a melancholy +conclusion. To-night I felt happy, almost for the first time in my +life. The gloomy old study seemed cheerful when I went in. The +old pictures on the walls smiled at me, and I sat down in my deep +chair with a new and delightful sensation that I was not alone. +The idea of having seen a ghost, and of feeling much the better for +it, was so absurd that I laughed softly, as I took up one of the +books I had brought with me and began to read. + +That impression did not wear off. I slept peacefully, and in the +morning I threw open my windows to the summer air and looked down +at the garden, at the stretches of green and at the colored flower- +beds, at the circling swallows and at the bright water. + +“A man might make a paradise of this place,” I exclaimed. “A man +and a woman together!” + +From that day the old Castle no longer seemed gloomy, and I think I +ceased to be sad; for some time, too, I began to take an interest +in the place, and to try and make it more alive. I avoided my old +Welsh nurse, lest she should damp my humor with some dismal +prophecy, and recall my old self by bringing back memories of my +dismal childhood. But what I thought of most was the ghostly +figure I had seen in the garden that first night after my arrival. +I went out every evening and wandered through the walks and paths; +but, try as I might, I did not see my vision again. At last, after +many days, the memory grew more faint, and my old moody nature +gradually overcame the temporary sense of lightness I had +experienced. The summer turned to autumn, and I grew restless. It +began to rain. The dampness pervaded the gardens, and the outer +halls smelled musty, like tombs; the gray sky oppressed me +intolerably. I left the place as it was and went abroad, +determined to try anything which might possibly make a second break +in the monotonous melancholy from which I suffered. + + +II + + +Most people would be struck by the utter insignificance of the +small events which, after the death of my parents, influenced my +life and made me unhappy. The grewsome forebodings of a Welsh +nurse, which chanced to be realized by an odd coincidence of +events, should not seem enough to change the nature of a child and +to direct the bent of his character in after years. The little +disappointments of schoolboy life, and the somewhat less childish +ones of an uneventful and undistinguished academic career, should +not have sufficed to turn me out at one-and-twenty years of age a +melancholic, listless idler. Some weakness of my own character may +have contributed to the result, but in a greater degree it was due +to my having a reputation for bad luck. However, I will not try to +analyze the causes of my state, for I should satisfy nobody, least +of all myself. Still less will I attempt to explain why I felt a +temporary revival of my spirits after my adventure in the garden. +It is certain that I was in love with the face I had seen, and that +I longed to see it again; that I gave up all hope of a second +visitation, grew more sad than ever, packed up my traps, and +finally went abroad. But in my dreams I went back to my home, and +it always appeared to me sunny and bright, as it had looked on that +summer’s morning after I had seen the woman by the fountain. + +I went to Paris. I went farther, and wandered about Germany. I +tried to amuse myself, and I failed miserably. With the aimless +whims of an idle and useless man come all sorts of suggestions for +good resolutions. One day I made up my mind that I would go and +bury myself in a German university for a time, and live simply like +a poor student. I started with the intention of going to Leipzig, +determined to stay there until some event should direct my life or +change my humor, or make an end of me altogether. The express +train stopped at some station of which I did not know the name. It +was dusk on a winter’s afternoon, and I peered through the thick +glass from my seat. Suddenly another train came gliding in from +the opposite direction, and stopped alongside of ours. I looked at +the carriage which chanced to be abreast of mine, and idly read the +black letters painted on a white board swinging from the brass +handrail: BERLIN—COLOGNE—PARIS. Then I looked up at the window +above. I started violently, and the cold perspiration broke out +upon my forehead. In the dim light, not six feet from where I sat, +I saw the face of a woman, the face I loved, the straight, fine +features, the strange eyes, the wonderful mouth, the pale skin. +Her head-dress was a dark veil which seemed to be tied about her +head and passed over the shoulders under her chin. As I threw down +the window and knelt on the cushioned seat, leaning far out to get +a better view, a long whistle screamed through the station, +followed by a quick series of dull, clanking sounds; then there was +a slight jerk, and my train moved on. Luckily the window was +narrow, being the one over the seat, beside the door, or I believe +I would have jumped out of it then and there. In an instant the +speed increased, and I was being carried swiftly away in the +opposite direction from the thing I loved. + +For a quarter of an hour I lay back in my place, stunned by the +suddenness of the apparition. At last one of the two other +passengers, a large and gorgeous captain of the White Konigsberg +Cuirassiers, civilly but firmly suggested that I might shut my +window, as the evening was cold. I did so, with an apology, and +relapsed into silence. The train ran swiftly on for a long time, +and it was already beginning to slacken speed before entering +another station, when I roused myself and made a sudden resolution. +As the carriage stopped before the brilliantly lighted platform, I +seized my belongings, saluted my fellow-passengers, and got out, +determined to take the first express back to Paris. + +This time the circumstances of the vision had been so natural that +it did not strike me that there was anything unreal about the face, +or about the woman to whom it belonged. I did not try to explain +to myself how the face, and the woman, could be traveling by a fast +train from Berlin to Paris on a winter’s afternoon, when both were +in my mind indelibly associated with the moonlight and the +fountains in my own English home. I certainly would not have +admitted that I had been mistaken in the dusk, attributing to what +I had seen a resemblance to my former vision which did not really +exist. There was not the slightest doubt in my mind, and I was +positively sure that I had again seen the face I loved. I did not +hesitate, and in a few hours I was on my way back to Paris. I +could not help reflecting on my ill luck. Wandering as I had been +for many months, it might as easily have chanced that I should be +traveling in the same train with that woman, instead of going the +other way. But my luck was destined to turn for a time. + +I searched Paris for several days. I dined at the principal +hotels; I went to the theaters; I rode in the Bois de Boulogne in +the morning, and picked up an acquaintance, whom I forced to drive +with me in the afternoon. I went to mass at the Madeleine, and I +attended the services at the English Church. I hung about the +Louvre and Notre Dame. I went to Versailles. I spent hours in +parading the Rue de Rivoli, in the neighborhood of Meurice’s +corner, where foreigners pass and repass from morning till night. +At last I received an invitation to a reception at the English +Embassy. I went, and I found what I had sought so long. + +There she was, sitting by an old lady in gray satin and diamonds, +who had a wrinkled but kindly face and keen gray eyes that seemed +to take in everything they saw, with very little inclination to +give much in return. But I did not notice the chaperon. I saw +only the face that had haunted me for months, and in the excitement +of the moment I walked quickly toward the pair, forgetting such a +trifle as the necessity for an introduction. + +She was far more beautiful than I had thought, but I never doubted +that it was she herself and no other. Vision or no vision before, +this was the reality, and I knew it. Twice her hair had been +covered, now at last I saw it, and the added beauty of its +magnificence glorified the whole woman. It was rich hair, fine and +abundant, golden, with deep ruddy tints in it like red bronze spun +fine. There was no ornament in it, not a rose, not a thread of +gold, and I felt that it needed nothing to enhance its splendor; +nothing but her pale face, her dark strange eyes, and her heavy +eyebrows. I could see that she was slender too, but strong withal, +as she sat there quietly gazing at the moving scene in the midst of +the brilliant lights and the hum of perpetual conversation. + +I recollected the detail of introduction in time, and turned aside +to look for my host. I found him at last. I begged him to present +me to the two ladies, pointing them out to him at the same time. + +“Yes—uh—by all means—uh,” replied his Excellency with a pleasant +smile. He evidently had no idea of my name, which was not to be +wondered at. + +“I am Lord Cairngorm,” I observed. + +“Oh—by all means,” answered the Ambassador with the same +hospitable smile. “Yes—uh—the fact is, I must try and find out +who they are; such lots of people, you know.” + +“Oh, if you will present me, I will try and find out for you,” said +I, laughing. + +“Ah, yes—so kind of you—come along,” said my host. We threaded +the crowd, and in a few minutes we stood before the two ladies. + +“’Lowmintrduce L’d Cairngorm,” he said; then, adding quickly to me, +“Come and dine to-morrow, won’t you?” he glided away with his +pleasant smile and disappeared in the crowd. + +I sat down beside the beautiful girl, conscious that the eyes of +the duenna were upon me. + +“I think we have been very near meeting before,” I remarked, by way +of opening the conversation. + +My companion turned her eyes full upon me with an air of inquiry. +She evidently did not recall my face, if she had ever seen me. + +“Really—I cannot remember,” she observed, in a low and musical +voice. “When?” + +“In the first place, you came down from Berlin by the express ten +days ago. I was going the other way, and our carriages stopped +opposite each other. I saw you at the window.” + +“Yes—we came that way, but I do not remember—” She hesitated. + +“Secondly,” I continued, “I was sitting alone in my garden last +summer—near the end of July—do you remember? You must have +wandered in there through the park; you came up to the house and +looked at me—” + +“Was that you?” she asked, in evident surprise. Then she broke +into a laugh. “I told everybody I had seen a ghost; there had +never been any Cairngorms in the place since the memory of man. We +left the next day, and never heard that you had come there; indeed, +I did not know the castle belonged to you.” + +“Where were you staying?” I asked. + +“Where? Why, with my aunt, where I always stay. She is your +neighbor, since it IS you.” + +“I—beg your pardon—but then—is your aunt Lady Bluebell? I did +not quite catch—” + +“Don’t be afraid. She is amazingly deaf. Yes. She is the relict +of my beloved uncle, the sixteenth or seventeenth Baron Bluebell—I +forget exactly how many of them there have been. And I—do you +know who I am?” She laughed, well knowing that I did not. + +“No,” I answered frankly. “I have not the least idea. I asked to +be introduced because I recognized you. Perhaps—perhaps you are a +Miss Bluebell?” + +“Considering that you are a neighbor, I will tell you who I am,” +she answered. “No; I am of the tribe of Bluebells, but my name is +Lammas, and I have been given to understand that I was christened +Margaret. Being a floral family, they call me Daisy. A dreadful +American man once told me that my aunt was a Bluebell and that I +was a Harebell—with two l’s and an e—because my hair is so thick. +I warn you, so that you may avoid making such a bad pun.” + +“Do I look like a man who makes puns?” I asked, being very +conscious of my melancholy face and sad looks. + +Miss Lammas eyed me critically. + +“No; you have a mournful temperament. I think I can trust you,” +she answered. “Do you think you could communicate to my aunt the +fact that you are a Cairngorm and a neighbor? I am sure she would +like to know.” + +I leaned toward the old lady, inflating my lungs for a yell. But +Miss Lammas stopped me. + +“That is not of the slightest use,” she remarked. “You can write +it on a bit of paper. She is utterly deaf.” + +“I have a pencil,” I answered; “but I have no paper. Would my cuff +do, do you think?” + +“Oh, yes!” replied Miss Lammas, with alacrity; “men often do that.” + +I wrote on my cuff: “Miss Lammas wishes me to explain that I am +your neighbor, Cairngorm.” Then I held out my arm before the old +lady’s nose. She seemed perfectly accustomed to the proceeding, +put up her glasses, read the words, smiled, nodded, and addressed +me in the unearthly voice peculiar to people who hear nothing. + +“I knew your grandfather very well,” she said. Then she smiled and +nodded to me again, and to her niece, and relapsed into silence. + +“It is all right,” remarked Miss Lammas. “Aunt Bluebell knows she +is deaf, and does not say much, like the parrot. You see, she knew +your grandfather. How odd that we should be neighbors! Why have +we never met before?” + +“If you had told me you knew my grandfather when you appeared in +the garden, I should not have been in the least surprised,” I +answered rather irrelevantly. “I really thought you were the ghost +of the old fountain. How in the world did you come there at that +hour?” + +“We were a large party and we went out for a walk. Then we thought +we should like to see what your park was like in the moonlight, and +so we trespassed. I got separated from the rest, and came upon you +by accident, just as I was admiring the extremely ghostly look of +your house, and wondering whether anybody would ever come and live +there again. It looks like the castle of Macbeth, or a scene from +the opera. Do you know anybody here?” + +“Hardly a soul! Do you?” + +“No. Aunt Bluebell said it was our duty to come. It is easy for +her to go out; she does not bear the burden of the conversation.” + +“I am sorry you find it a burden,” said I. “Shall I go away?” + +Miss Lammas looked at me with a sudden gravity in her beautiful +eyes, and there was a sort of hesitation about the lines of her +full, soft mouth. + +“No,” she said at last, quite simply, “don’t go away. We may like +each other, if you stay a little longer—and we ought to, because +we are neighbors in the country.” + +I suppose I ought to have thought Miss Lammas a very odd girl. +There is, indeed, a sort of freemasonry between people who discover +that they live near each other and that they ought to have known +each other before. But there was a sort of unexpected frankness +and simplicity in the girl’s amusing manner which would have struck +anyone else as being singular, to say the least of it. To me, +however, it all seemed natural enough. I had dreamed of her face +too long not to be utterly happy when I met her at last and could +talk to her as much as I pleased. To me, the man of ill luck in +everything, the whole meeting seemed too good to be true. I felt +again that strange sensation of lightness which I had experienced +after I had seen her face in the garden. The great rooms seemed +brighter, life seemed worth living; my sluggish, melancholy blood +ran faster, and filled me with a new sense of strength. I said to +myself that without this woman I was but an imperfect being, but +that with her I could accomplish everything to which I should set +my hand. Like the great Doctor, when he thought he had cheated +Mephistopheles at last, I could have cried aloud to the fleeting +moment, Verweile doch, du bist so schon! + +“Are you always gay?” I asked, suddenly. “How happy you must be!” + +“The days would sometimes seem very long if I were gloomy,” she +answered, thoughtfully. “Yes, I think I find life very pleasant, +and I tell it so.” + +“How can you ‘tell life’ anything?” I inquired. “If I could catch +my life and talk to it, I would abuse it prodigiously, I assure +you.” + +“I dare say. You have a melancholy temper. You ought to live out- +of-doors, dig potatoes, make hay, shoot, hunt, tumble into ditches, +and come home muddy and hungry for dinner. It would be much better +for you than moping in your rook tower and hating everything.” + +“It is rather lonely down there,” I murmured, apologetically, +feeling that Miss Lammas was quite right. + +“Then marry, and quarrel with your wife,” she laughed. “Anything +is better than being alone.” + +“I am a very peaceable person. I never quarrel with anybody. You +can try it. You will find it quite impossible.” + +“Will you let me try?” she asked, still smiling. + +“By all means—especially if it is to be only a preliminary +canter,” I answered, rashly. + +“What do you mean?” she inquired, turning quickly upon me. + +“Oh—nothing. You might try my paces with a view to quarreling in +the future. I cannot imagine how you are going to do it. You will +have to resort to immediate and direct abuse.” + +“No. I will only say that if you do not like your life, it is your +own fault. How can a man of your age talk of being melancholy, or +of the hollowness of existence? Are you consumptive? Are you +subject to hereditary insanity? Are you deaf, like Aunt Bluebell? +Are you poor, like—lots of people? Have you been crossed in love? +Have you lost the world for a woman, or any particular woman for +the sake of the world? Are you feeble-minded, a cripple, an +outcast? Are you—repulsively ugly?” She laughed again. “Is +there any reason in the world why you should not enjoy all you have +got in life?” + +“No. There is no reason whatever, except that I am dreadfully +unlucky, especially in small things.” + +“Then try big things, just for a change,” suggested Miss Lammas. +“Try and get married, for instance, and see how it turns out.” + +“If it turned out badly it would be rather serious.” + +“Not half so serious as it is to abuse everything unreasonably. If +abuse is your particular talent, abuse something that ought to be +abused. Abuse the Conservatives—or the Liberals—it does not +matter which, since they are always abusing each other. Make +yourself felt by other people. You will like it, if they don’t. +It will make a man of you. Fill your mouth with pebbles, and howl +at the sea, if you cannot do anything else. It did Demosthenes no +end of good, you know. You will have the satisfaction of imitating +a great man.” + +“Really, Miss Lammas, I think the list of innocent exercises you +propose—” + +“Very well—if you don’t care for that sort of thing, care for some +other sort of thing. Care for something, or hate something. Don’t +be idle. Life is short, and though art may be long, plenty of +noise answers nearly as well.” + +“I do care for something—I mean, somebody,” I said. + +“A woman? Then marry her. Don’t hesitate.” + +“I do not know whether she would marry me,” I replied. “I have +never asked her.” + +“Then ask her at once,” answered Miss Lammas. “I shall die happy +if I feel I have persuaded a melancholy fellow creature to rouse +himself to action. Ask her, by all means, and see what she says. +If she does not accept you at once, she may take you the next time. +Meanwhile, you will have entered for the race. If you lose, there +are the ‘All-aged Trial Stakes,’ and the ‘Consolation Race.’” + +“And plenty of selling races into the bargain. Shall I take you at +your word, Miss Lammas?” + +“I hope you will,” she answered. + +“Since you yourself advise me, I will. Miss Lammas, will you do me +the honor to marry me?” + +For the first time in my life the blood rushed to my head and my +sight swam. I cannot tell why I said it. It would be useless to +try to explain the extraordinary fascination the girl exercised +over me, or the still more extraordinary feeling of intimacy with +her which had grown in me during that half hour. Lonely, sad, +unlucky as I had been all my life, I was certainly not timid, nor +even shy. But to propose to marry a woman after half an hour’s +acquaintance was a piece of madness of which I never believed +myself capable, and of which I should never be capable again, could +I be placed in the same situation. It was as though my whole being +had been changed in a moment by magic—by the white magic of her +nature brought into contact with mine. The blood sank back to my +heart, and a moment later I found myself staring at her with +anxious eyes. To my amazement she was as calm as ever, but her +beautiful mouth smiled, and there was a mischievous light in her +dark-brown eyes. + +“Fairly caught,” she answered. “For an individual who pretends to +be listless and sad you are not lacking in humor. I had really not +the least idea what you were going to say. Wouldn’t it be +singularly awkward for you if I had said ‘Yes’? I never saw +anybody begin to practice so sharply what was preached to him—with +so very little loss of time!” + +“You probably never met a man who had dreamed of you for seven +months before being introduced.” + +“No, I never did,” she answered gayly. “It smacks of the romantic. +Perhaps you are a romantic character, after all. I should think +you were if I believed you. Very well; you have taken my advice, +entered for a Stranger’s Race and lost it. Try the All-aged Trial +Stakes. You have another cuff, and a pencil. Propose to Aunt +Bluebell; she would dance with astonishment, and she might recover +her hearing.” + + +III + + +That was how I first asked Margaret Lammas to be my wife, and I +will agree with anyone who says I behaved very foolishly. But I +have not repented of it, and I never shall. I have long ago +understood that I was out of my mind that evening, but I think my +temporary insanity on that occasion has had the effect of making me +a saner man ever since. Her manner turned my head, for it was so +different from what I had expected. To hear this lovely creature, +who, in my imagination, was a heroine of romance, if not of +tragedy, talking familiarly and laughing readily was more than my +equanimity could bear, and I lost my head as well as my heart. But +when I went back to England in the spring, I went to make certain +arrangements at the Castle—certain changes and improvements which +would be absolutely necessary. I had won the race for which I had +entered myself so rashly, and we were to be married in June. + +Whether the change was due to the orders I had left with the +gardener and the rest of the servants, or to my own state of mind, +I cannot tell. At all events, the old place did not look the same +to me when I opened my window on the morning after my arrival. +There were the gray walls below me and the gray turrets flanking +the huge building; there were the fountains, the marble causeways, +the smooth basins, the tall box hedges, the water lilies and the +swans, just as of old. But there was something else there, too— +something in the air, in the water, and in the greenness that I did +not recognize—a light over everything by which everything was +transfigured. The clock in the tower struck seven, and the strokes +of the ancient bell sounded like a wedding chime. The air sang +with the thrilling treble of the song-birds, with the silvery music +of the plashing water and the softer harmony of the leaves stirred +by the fresh morning wind. There was a smell of new-mown hay from +the distant meadows, and of blooming roses from the beds below, +wafted up together to my window. I stood in the pure sunshine and +drank the air and all the sounds and the odors that were in it; and +I looked down at my garden and said: “It is Paradise, after all.” +I think the men of old were right when they called heaven a garden, +and Eden a garden inhabited by one man and one woman, the Earthly +Paradise. + +I turned away, wondering what had become of the gloomy memories I +had always associated with my home. I tried to recall the +impression of my nurse’s horrible prophecy before the death of my +parents—an impression which hitherto had been vivid enough. I +tried to remember my old self, my dejection, my listlessness, my +bad luck, my petty disappointments. I endeavored to force myself +to think as I used to think, if only to satisfy myself that I had +not lost my individuality. But I succeeded in none of these +efforts. I was a different man, a changed being, incapable of +sorrow, of ill luck, or of sadness. My life had been a dream, not +evil, but infinitely gloomy and hopeless. It was now a reality, +full of hope, gladness, and all manner of good. My home had been +like a tomb; to-day it was Paradise. My heart had been as though +it had not existed; to-day it beat with strength and youth and the +certainty of realized happiness. I reveled in the beauty of the +world, and called loveliness out of the future to enjoy it before +time should bring it to me, as a traveler in the plains looks up to +the mountains, and already tastes the cool air through the dust of +the road. + +Here, I thought, we will live and live for years. There we will +sit by the fountain toward evening and in the deep moonlight. Down +those paths we will wander together. On those benches we will rest +and talk. Among those eastern hills we will ride through the soft +twilight, and in the old house we will tell tales on winter nights, +when the logs burn high, and the holly berries are red, and the old +clock tolls out the dying year. On these old steps, in these dark +passages and stately rooms, there will one day be the sound of +little pattering feet, and laughing child voices will ring up to +the vaults of the ancient hall. Those tiny footsteps shall not be +slow and sad as mine were, nor shall the childish words be spoken +in an awed whisper. No gloomy Welshwoman shall people the dusky +corners with weird horrors, nor utter horrid prophecies of death +and ghastly things. All shall be young, and fresh, and joyful, and +happy, and we will turn the old luck again, and forget that there +was ever any sadness. + +So I thought, as I looked out of my window that morning and for +many mornings after that, and every day it all seemed more real +than ever before, and much nearer. But the old nurse looked at me +askance, and muttered odd sayings about the Woman of the Water. I +cared little what she said, for I was far too happy. + +At last the time came near for the wedding. Lady Bluebell and all +the tribe of Bluebells, as Margaret called them, were at Bluebell +Grange, for we had determined to be married in the country, and to +come straight to the Castle afterwards. We cared little for +traveling, and not at all for a crowded ceremony at St. George’s in +Hanover Square, with all the tiresome formalities afterwards. I +used to ride over to the Grange every day, and very often Margaret +would come with her aunt and some of her cousins to the Castle. I +was suspicious of my own taste, and was only too glad to let her +have her way about the alterations and improvements in our home. + +We were to be married on the thirtieth of July, and on the evening +of the twenty-eighth Margaret drove over with some of the Bluebell +party. In the long summer twilight we all went out into the +garden. Naturally enough, Margaret and I were left to ourselves, +and we wandered down by the marble basins. + +“It is an odd coincidence,” I said; “it was on this very night last +year that I first saw you.” + +“Considering that it is the month of July,” answered Margaret with +a laugh, “and that we have been here almost every day, I don’t +think the coincidence is so extraordinary, after all.” + +“No, dear,” said I, “I suppose not. I don’t know why it struck me. +We shall very likely be here a year from today, and a year from +that. The odd thing, when I think of it, is that you should be +here at all. But my luck has turned. I ought not to think +anything odd that happens now that I have you. It is all sure to +be good.” + +“A slight change in your ideas since that remarkable performance of +yours in Paris,” said Margaret. “Do you know, I thought you were +the most extraordinary man I had ever met.” + +“I thought you were the most charming woman I had ever seen. I +naturally did not want to lose any time in frivolities. I took you +at your word, I followed your advice, I asked you to marry me, and +this is the delightful result—what’s the matter?” + +Margaret had started suddenly, and her hand tightened on my arm. +An old woman was coming up the path, and was close to us before we +saw her, for the moon had risen, and was shining full in our faces. +The woman turned out to be my old nurse. + +“It’s only Judith, dear—don’t be frightened,” I said. Then I +spoke to the Welshwoman: “What are you about, Judith? Have you +been feeding the Woman of the Water?” + +“Aye—when the clock strikes, Willie—my Lord, I mean,” muttered +the old creature, drawing aside to let us pass, and fixing her +strange eyes on Margaret’s face. + +“What does she mean?” asked Margaret, when we had gone by. + +“Nothing, darling. The old thing is mildly crazy, but she is a +good soul.” + +We went on in silence for a few moments, and came to the rustic +bridge just above the artificial grotto through which the water ran +out into the park, dark and swift in its narrow channel. We +stopped, and leaned on the wooden rail. The moon was now behind +us, and shone full upon the long vista of basins and on the huge +walls and towers of the Castle above. + +“How proud you ought to be of such a grand old place!” said +Margaret, softly. + +“It is yours now, darling,” I answered. “You have as good a right +to love it as I—but I only love it because you are to live in it, +dear.” + +Her hand stole out and lay on mine, and we were both silent. Just +then the clock began to strike far off in the tower. I counted— +eight—nine—ten—eleven—I looked at my watch—twelve—thirteen—I +laughed. The bell went on striking. + +“The old clock has gone crazy, like Judith,” I exclaimed. Still it +went on, note after note ringing out monotonously through the still +air. We leaned over the rail, instinctively looking in the +direction whence the sound came. On and on it went. I counted +nearly a hundred, out of sheer curiosity, for I understood that +something had broken and that the thing was running itself down. + +Suddenly there was a crack as of breaking wood, a cry and a heavy +splash, and I was alone, clinging to the broken end of the rail of +the rustic bridge. + +I do not think I hesitated while my pulse beat twice. I sprang +clear of the bridge into the black rushing water, dived to the +bottom, came up again with empty hands, turned and swam downward +through the grotto in the thick darkness, plunging and diving at +every stroke, striking my head and hands against jagged stones and +sharp corners, clutching at last something in my fingers and +dragging it up with all my might. I spoke, I cried aloud, but +there was no answer. I was alone in the pitchy darkness with my +burden, and the house was five hundred yards away. Struggling +still, I felt the ground beneath my feet, I saw a ray of +moonlight—the grotto widened, and the deep water became a broad +and shallow brook as I stumbled over the stones and at last laid +Margaret’s body on the bank in the park beyond. + +“Aye, Willie, as the clock struck!” said the voice of Judith, the +Welsh nurse, as she bent down and looked at the white face. The +old woman must have turned back and followed us, seen the accident, +and slipped out by the lower gate of the garden. “Aye,” she +groaned, “you have fed the Woman of the Water this night, Willie, +while the clock was striking.” + +I scarcely heard her as I knelt beside the lifeless body of the +woman I loved, chafing the wet white temples and gazing wildly into +the wide-staring eyes. I remember only the first returning look of +consciousness, the first heaving breath, the first movement of +those dear hands stretching out toward me. + + +That is not much of a story, you say. It is the story of my life. +That is all. It does not pretend to be anything else. Old Judith +says my luck turned on that summer’s night when I was struggling in +the water to save all that was worth living for. A month later +there was a stone bridge above the grotto, and Margaret and I stood +on it and looked up at the moonlit Castle, as we had done once +before, and as we have done many times since. For all those things +happened ten years ago last summer, and this is the tenth Christmas +Eve we have spent together by the roaring logs in the old hall, +talking of old times; and every year there are more old times to +talk of. There are curly-headed boys, too, with red-gold hair and +dark-brown eyes like their mother’s, and a little Margaret, with +solemn black eyes like mine. Why could not she look like her +mother, too, as well as the rest of them? + +The world is very bright at this glorious Christmas time, and +perhaps there is little use in calling up the sadness of long ago, +unless it be to make the jolly firelight seem more cheerful, the +good wife’s face look gladder, and to give the children’s laughter +a merrier ring, by contrast with all that is gone. Perhaps, too, +some sad-faced, listless, melancholy youth, who feels that the +world is very hollow, and that life is like a perpetual funeral +service, just as I used to feel myself, may take courage from my +example, and having found the woman of his heart, ask her to marry +him after half an hour’s acquaintance. But, on the whole, I would +not advise any man to marry, for the simple reason that no man will +ever find a wife like mine, and being obliged to go farther, he +will necessarily fare worse. My wife has done miracles, but I will +not assert that any other woman is able to follow her example. + +Margaret always said that the old place was beautiful, and that I +ought to be proud of it. I dare say she is right. She has even +more imagination than I. But I have a good answer and a plain one, +which is this,—that all the beauty of the Castle comes from her. +She has breathed upon it all, as the children blow upon the cold +glass window panes in winter; and as their warm breath crystallizes +into landscapes from fairyland, full of exquisite shapes and +traceries upon the blank surface, so her spirit has transformed +every gray stone of the old towers, every ancient tree and hedge in +the gardens, every thought in my once melancholy self. All that +was old is young, and all that was sad is glad, and I am the +gladdest of all. Whatever heaven may be, there is no earthly +paradise without woman, nor is there anywhere a place so desolate, +so dreary, so unutterably miserable that a woman cannot make it +seem heaven to the man she loves and who loves her. + +I hear certain cynics laugh, and cry that all that has been said +before. Do not laugh, my good cynic. You are too small a man to +laugh at such a great thing as love. Prayers have been said before +now by many, and perhaps you say yours, too. I do not think they +lose anything by being repeated, nor you by repeating them. You +say that the world is bitter, and full of the Waters of Bitterness. +Love, and so live that you may be loved—the world will turn sweet +for you, and you shall rest like me by the Waters of Paradise. + + +From “The Play-Actress and the Upper Berth,” by F. Marion Crawford. +Copyright, 1896, by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. + + + + +Mary E. Wilkins Freeman + + + + +The Shadows on the Wall + + +“Henry had words with Edward in the study the night before Edward +died,” said Caroline Glynn. + +She was elderly, tall, and harshly thin, with a hard colourlessness +of face. She spoke not with acrimony, but with grave severity. +Rebecca Ann Glynn, younger, stouter and rosy of face between her +crinkling puffs of gray hair, gasped, by way of assent. She sat in +a wide flounce of black silk in the corner of the sofa, and rolled +terrified eyes from her sister Caroline to her sister Mrs. Stephen +Brigham, who had been Emma Glynn, the one beauty of the family. She +was beautiful still, with a large, splendid, full-blown beauty; she +filled a great rocking-chair with her superb bulk of femininity, +and swayed gently back and forth, her black silks whispering and +her black frills fluttering. Even the shock of death (for her +brother Edward lay dead in the house,) could not disturb her +outward serenity of demeanor. She was grieved over the loss of her +brother: he had been the youngest, and she had been fond of him, +but never had Emma Brigham lost sight of her own importance amidst +the waters of tribulation. She was always awake to the +consciousness of her own stability in the midst of vicissitudes and +the splendor of her permanent bearing. + +But even her expression of masterly placidity changed before her +sister Caroline’s announcement and her sister Rebecca Ann’s gasp of +terror and distress in response. + +“I think Henry might have controlled his temper, when poor Edward +was so near his end,” said she with an asperity which disturbed +slightly the roseate curves of her beautiful mouth. + +“Of course he did not KNOW,” murmured Rebecca Ann in a faint tone +strangely out of keeping with her appearance. + +One involuntarily looked again to be sure that such a feeble pipe +came from that full-swelling chest. + +“Of course he did not know it,” said Caroline quickly. She turned +on her sister with a strange sharp look of suspicion. “How could +he have known it?” said she. Then she shrank as if from the +other’s possible answer. “Of course you and I both know he could +not,” said she conclusively, but her pale face was paler than it +had been before. + +Rebecca gasped again. The married sister, Mrs. Emma Brigham, was +now sitting up straight in her chair; she had ceased rocking, and +was eyeing them both intently with a sudden accentuation of family +likeness in her face. Given one common intensity of emotion and +similar lines showed forth, and the three sisters of one race were +evident. + +“What do you mean?” said she impartially to them both. Then she, +too, seemed to shrink before a possible answer. She even laughed +an evasive sort of laugh. “I guess you don’t mean anything,” said +she, but her face wore still the expression of shrinking horror. + +“Nobody means anything,” said Caroline firmly. She rose and +crossed the room toward the door with grim decisiveness. + +“Where are you going?” asked Mrs. Brigham. + +“I have something to see to,” replied Caroline, and the others at +once knew by her tone that she had some solemn and sad duty to +perform in the chamber of death. + +“Oh,” said Mrs. Brigham. + +After the door had closed behind Caroline, she turned to Rebecca. + +“Did Henry have many words with him?” she asked. + +“They were talking very loud,” replied Rebecca evasively, yet with +an answering gleam of ready response to the other’s curiosity in +the quick lift of her soft blue eyes. + +Mrs. Brigham looked at her. She had not resumed rocking. She +still sat up straight with a slight knitting of intensity on her +fair forehead, between the pretty rippling curves of her auburn +hair. + +“Did you—hear anything?” she asked in a low voice with a glance +toward the door. + +“I was just across the hall in the south parlor, and that door was +open and this door ajar,” replied Rebecca with a slight flush. + +“Then you must have—” + +“I couldn’t help it.” + +“Everything?” + +“Most of it.” + +“What was it?” + +“The old story.” + +“I suppose Henry was mad, as he always was, because Edward was +living on here for nothing, when he had wasted all the money father +left him.” + +Rebecca nodded with a fearful glance at the door. + +When Emma spoke again her voice was still more hushed. “I know how +he felt,” said she. “He had always been so prudent himself, and +worked hard at his profession, and there Edward had never done +anything but spend, and it must have looked to him as if Edward was +living at his expense, but he wasn’t.” + +“No, he wasn’t.” + +“It was the way father left the property—that all the children +should have a home here—and he left money enough to buy the food +and all if we had all come home.” + +“Yes.” + +“And Edward had a right here according to the terms of father’s +will, and Henry ought to have remembered it.” + +“Yes, he ought.” + +“Did he say hard things?” + +“Pretty hard from what I heard.” + +“What?” + +“I heard him tell Edward that he had no business here at all, and +he thought he had better go away.” + +“What did Edward say?” + +“That he would stay here as long as he lived and afterward, too, if +he was a mind to, and he would like to see Henry get him out; and +then—” + +“What?” + +“Then he laughed.” + +“What did Henry say.” + +“I didn’t hear him say anything, but—” + +“But what?” + +“I saw him when he came out of this room.” + +“He looked mad?” + +“You’ve seen him when he looked so.” + +Emma nodded; the expression of horror on her face had deepened. + +“Do you remember that time he killed the cat because she had +scratched him?” + +“Yes. Don’t!” + +Then Caroline reentered the room. She went up to the stove in +which a wood fire was burning—it was a cold, gloomy day of fall— +and she warmed her hands, which were reddened from recent washing +in cold water. + +Mrs. Brigham looked at her and hesitated. She glanced at the door, +which was still ajar, as it did not easily shut, being still +swollen with the damp weather of the summer. She rose and pushed +it together with a sharp thud which jarred the house. Rebecca +started painfully with a half exclamation. Caroline looked at her +disapprovingly. + +“It is time you controlled your nerves, Rebecca,” said she. + +“I can’t help it,” replied Rebecca with almost a wail. “I am +nervous. There’s enough to make me so, the Lord knows.” + +“What do you mean by that?” asked Caroline with her old air of +sharp suspicion, and something between challenge and dread of its +being met. + +Rebecca shrank. + +“Nothing,” said she. + +“Then I wouldn’t keep speaking in such a fashion.” + +Emma, returning from the closed door, said imperiously that it +ought to be fixed, it shut so hard. + +“It will shrink enough after we have had the fire a few days,” +replied Caroline. “If anything is done to it it will be too small; +there will be a crack at the sill.” + +“I think Henry ought to be ashamed of himself for talking as he did +to Edward,” said Mrs. Brigham abruptly, but in an almost inaudible +voice. + +“Hush!” said Caroline, with a glance of actual fear at the closed +door. + +“Nobody can hear with the door shut.” + +“He must have heard it shut, and—” + +“Well, I can say what I want to before he comes down, and I am not +afraid of him.” + +“I don’t know who is afraid of him! What reason is there for +anybody to be afraid of Henry?” demanded Caroline. + +Mrs. Brigham trembled before her sister’s look. Rebecca gasped +again. “There isn’t any reason, of course. Why should there be?” + +“I wouldn’t speak so, then. Somebody might overhear you and think +it was queer. Miranda Joy is in the south parlor sewing, you +know.” + +“I thought she went upstairs to stitch on the machine.” + +“She did, but she has come down again.” + +“Well, she can’t hear.” + +“I say again I think Henry ought to be ashamed of himself. I +shouldn’t think he’d ever get over it, having words with poor +Edward the very night before he died. Edward was enough sight +better disposition than Henry, with all his faults. I always +thought a great deal of poor Edward, myself.” + +Mrs. Brigham passed a large fluff of handkerchief across her eyes; +Rebecca sobbed outright. + +“Rebecca,” said Caroline admonishingly, keeping her mouth stiff and +swallowing determinately. + +“I never heard him speak a cross word, unless he spoke cross to +Henry that last night. I don’t know, but he did from what Rebecca +overheard,” said Emma. + +“Not so much cross as sort of soft, and sweet, and aggravating,” +sniffled Rebecca. + +“He never raised his voice,” said Caroline; “but he had his way.” + +“He had a right to in this case.” + +“Yes, he did.” + +“He had as much of a right here as Henry,” sobbed Rebecca, “and now +he’s gone, and he will never be in this home that poor father left +him and the rest of us again.” + +“What do you really think ailed Edward?” asked Emma in hardly more +than a whisper. She did not look at her sister. + +Caroline sat down in a nearby armchair, and clutched the arms +convulsively until her thin knuckles whitened. + +“I told you,” said she. + +Rebecca held her handkerchief over her mouth, and looked at them +above it with terrified, streaming eyes. + +“I know you said that he had terrible pains in his stomach, and had +spasms, but what do you think made him have them?” + +“Henry called it gastric trouble. You know Edward has always had +dyspepsia.” + +Mrs. Brigham hesitated a moment. “Was there any talk of an— +examination?” said she. + +Then Caroline turned on her fiercely. + +“No,” said she in a terrible voice. “No.” + +The three sisters’ souls seemed to meet on one common ground of +terrified understanding through their eyes. The old-fashioned +latch of the door was heard to rattle, and a push from without made +the door shake ineffectually. “It’s Henry,” Rebecca sighed rather +than whispered. Mrs. Brigham settled herself after a noiseless +rush across the floor into her rocking-chair again, and was swaying +back and forth with her head comfortably leaning back, when the +door at last yielded and Henry Glynn entered. He cast a covertly +sharp, comprehensive glance at Mrs. Brigham with her elaborate +calm; at Rebecca quietly huddled in the corner of the sofa with her +handkerchief to her face and only one small reddened ear as +attentive as a dog’s uncovered and revealing her alertness for his +presence; at Caroline sitting with a strained composure in her +armchair by the stove. She met his eyes quite firmly with a look +of inscrutable fear, and defiance of the fear and of him. + +Henry Glynn looked more like this sister than the others. Both had +the same hard delicacy of form and feature, both were tall and +almost emaciated, both had a sparse growth of gray blond hair far +back from high intellectual foreheads, both had an almost noble +aquilinity of feature. They confronted each other with the +pitiless immovability of two statues in whose marble lineaments +emotions were fixed for all eternity. + +Then Henry Glynn smiled and the smile transformed his face. He +looked suddenly years younger, and an almost boyish recklessness +and irresolution appeared in his face. He flung himself into a +chair with a gesture which was bewildering from its incongruity +with his general appearance. He leaned his head back, flung one +leg over the other, and looked laughingly at Mrs. Brigham. + +“I declare, Emma, you grow younger every year,” he said. + +She flushed a little, and her placid mouth widened at the corners. +She was susceptible to praise. + +“Our thoughts to-day ought to belong to the one of us who will +NEVER grow older,” said Caroline in a hard voice. + +Henry looked at her, still smiling. “Of course, we none of us +forget that,” said he, in a deep, gentle voice, “but we have to +speak to the living, Caroline, and I have not seen Emma for a long +time, and the living are as dear as the dead.” + +“Not to me,” said Caroline. + +She rose, and went abruptly out of the room again. Rebecca also +rose and hurried after her, sobbing loudly. + +Henry looked slowly after them. + +“Caroline is completely unstrung,” said he. Mrs. Brigham rocked. A +confidence in him inspired by his manner was stealing over her. Out +of that confidence she spoke quite easily and naturally. + +“His death was very sudden,” said she. + +Henry’s eyelids quivered slightly but his gaze was unswerving. + +“Yes,” said he; “it was very sudden. He was sick only a few +hours.” + +“What did you call it?” + +“Gastric.” + +“You did not think of an examination?” + +“There was no need. I am perfectly certain as to the cause of his +death.” + +Suddenly Mrs. Brigham felt a creep as of some live horror over her +very soul. Her flesh prickled with cold, before an inflection of +his voice. She rose, tottering on weak knees. + +“Where are you going?” asked Henry in a strange, breathless voice. + +Mrs. Brigham said something incoherent about some sewing which she +had to do, some black for the funeral, and was out of the room. She +went up to the front chamber which she occupied. Caroline was +there. She went close to her and took her hands, and the two +sisters looked at each other. + +“Don’t speak, don’t, I won’t have it!” said Caroline finally in an +awful whisper. + +“I won’t,” replied Emma. + +That afternoon the three sisters were in the study, the large front +room on the ground floor across the hall from the south parlor, +when the dusk deepened. + +Mrs. Brigham was hemming some black material. She sat close to the +west window for the waning light. At last she laid her work on her +lap. + +“It’s no use, I cannot see to sew another stitch until we have a +light,” said she. + +Caroline, who was writing some letters at the table, turned to +Rebecca, in her usual place on the sofa. + +“Rebecca, you had better get a lamp,” she said. + +Rebecca started up; even in the dusk her face showed her agitation. + +“It doesn’t seem to me that we need a lamp quite yet,” she said in +a piteous, pleading voice like a child’s. + +“Yes, we do,” returned Mrs. Brigham peremptorily. “We must have a +light. I must finish this to-night or I can’t go to the funeral, +and I can’t see to sew another stitch.” + +“Caroline can see to write letters, and she is farther from the +window than you are,” said Rebecca. + +“Are you trying to save kerosene or are you lazy, Rebecca Glynn?” +cried Mrs. Brigham. “I can go and get the light myself, but I have +this work all in my lap.” + +Caroline’s pen stopped scratching. + +“Rebecca, we must have the light,” said she. + +“Had we better have it in here?” asked Rebecca weakly. + +“Of course! Why not?” cried Caroline sternly. + +“I am sure I don’t want to take my sewing into the other room, when +it is all cleaned up for to-morrow,” said Mrs. Brigham. + +“Why, I never heard such a to-do about lighting a lamp.” + +Rebecca rose and left the room. Presently she entered with a lamp— +a large one with a white porcelain shade. She set it on a table, +an old-fashioned card-table which was placed against the opposite +wall from the window. That wall was clear of bookcases and books, +which were only on three sides of the room. That opposite wall was +taken up with three doors, the one small space being occupied by +the table. Above the table on the old-fashioned paper, of a white +satin gloss, traversed by an indeterminate green scroll, hung quite +high a small gilt and black-framed ivory miniature taken in her +girlhood of the mother of the family. When the lamp was set on the +table beneath it, the tiny pretty face painted on the ivory seemed +to gleam out with a look of intelligence. + +“What have you put that lamp over there for?” asked Mrs. Brigham, +with more of impatience than her voice usually revealed. “Why +didn’t you set it in the hall and have done with it. Neither +Caroline nor I can see if it is on that table.” + +“I thought perhaps you would move,” replied Rebecca hoarsely. + +“If I do move, we can’t both sit at that table. Caroline has her +paper all spread around. Why don’t you set the lamp on the study +table in the middle of the room, then we can both see?” + +Rebecca hesitated. Her face was very pale. She looked with an +appeal that was fairly agonizing at her sister Caroline. + +“Why don’t you put the lamp on this table, as she says?” asked +Caroline, almost fiercely. “Why do you act so, Rebecca?” + +“I should think you WOULD ask her that,” said Mrs. Brigham. “She +doesn’t act like herself at all.” + +Rebecca took the lamp and set it on the table in the middle of the +room without another word. Then she turned her back upon it +quickly and seated herself on the sofa, and placed a hand over her +eyes as if to shade them, and remained so. + +“Does the light hurt your eyes, and is that the reason why you +didn’t want the lamp?” asked Mrs. Brigham kindly. + +“I always like to sit in the dark,” replied Rebecca chokingly. Then +she snatched her handkerchief hastily from her pocket and began to +weep. Caroline continued to write, Mrs. Brigham to sew. + +Suddenly Mrs. Brigham as she sewed glanced at the opposite wall. +The glance became a steady stare. She looked intently, her work +suspended in her hands. Then she looked away again and took a few +more stitches, then she looked again, and again turned to her task. +At last she laid her work in her lap and stared concentratedly. She +looked from the wall around the room, taking note of the various +objects; she looked at the wall long and intently. Then she turned +to her sisters. + +“What IS that?” said she. + +“What?” asked Caroline harshly; her pen scratched loudly across the +paper. + +Rebecca gave one of her convulsive gasps. + +“That strange shadow on the wall,” replied Mrs. Brigham. + +Rebecca sat with her face hidden: Caroline dipped her pen in the +inkstand. + +“Why don’t you turn around and look?” asked Mrs. Brigham in a +wondering and somewhat aggrieved way. + +“I am in a hurry to finish this letter, if Mrs. Wilson Ebbit is +going to get word in time to come to the funeral,” replied Caroline +shortly. + +Mrs. Brigham rose, her work slipping to the floor, and she began +walking around the room, moving various articles of furniture, with +her eyes on the shadow. + +Then suddenly she shrieked out: + +“Look at this awful shadow! What is it? Caroline, look, look! +Rebecca, look! WHAT IS IT?” + +All Mrs. Brigham’s triumphant placidity was gone. Her handsome +face was livid with horror. She stood stiffly pointing at the +shadow. + +“Look!” said she, pointing her finger at it. “Look! What is it?” + +Then Rebecca burst out in a wild wail after a shuddering glance at +the wall: + +“Oh, Caroline, there it is again! There it is again!” + +“Caroline Glynn, you look!” said Mrs. Brigham. “Look! What is +that dreadful shadow?” + +Caroline rose, turned, and stood confronting the wall. + +“How should I know?” she said. + +“It has been there every night since he died,” cried Rebecca. + +“Every night?” + +“Yes. He died Thursday and this is Saturday; that makes three +nights,” said Caroline rigidly. She stood as if holding herself +calm with a vise of concentrated will. + +“It—it looks like—like—” stammered Mrs. Brigham in a tone of +intense horror. + +“I know what it looks like well enough,” said Caroline. “I’ve got +eyes in my head.” + +“It looks like Edward,” burst out Rebecca in a sort of frenzy of +fear. “Only—” + +“Yes, it does,” assented Mrs. Brigham, whose horror-stricken tone +matched her sister’s, “only— Oh, it is awful! What is it, +Caroline?” + +“I ask you again, how should I know?” replied Caroline. “I see it +there like you. How should I know any more than you?” + +“It MUST be something in the room,” said Mrs. Brigham, staring +wildly around. + +“We moved everything in the room the first night it came,” said +Rebecca; “it is not anything in the room.” + +Caroline turned upon her with a sort of fury. “Of course it is +something in the room,” said she. “How you act! What do you mean +by talking so? Of course it is something in the room.” + +“Of course, it is,” agreed Mrs. Brigham, looking at Caroline +suspiciously. “Of course it must be. It is only a coincidence. It +just happens so. Perhaps it is that fold of the window curtain +that makes it. It must be something in the room.” + +“It is not anything in the room,” repeated Rebecca with obstinate +horror. + +The door opened suddenly and Henry Glynn entered. He began to +speak, then his eyes followed the direction of the others’. He +stood stock still staring at the shadow on the wall. It was life +size and stretched across the white parallelogram of a door, half +across the wall space on which the picture hung. + +“What is that?” he demanded in a strange voice. + +“It must be due to something in the room, Mrs. Brigham said +faintly. + +“It is not due to anything in the room,” said Rebecca again with +the shrill insistency of terror. + +“How you act, Rebecca Glynn,” said Caroline. + +Henry Glynn stood and stared a moment longer. His face showed a +gamut of emotions—horror, conviction, then furious incredulity. +Suddenly he began hastening hither and thither about the room. He +moved the furniture with fierce jerks, turning ever to see the +effect upon the shadow on the wall. Not a line of its terrible +outlines wavered. + +“It must be something in the room!” he declared in a voice which +seemed to snap like a lash. + +His face changed. The inmost secrecy of his nature seemed evident +until one almost lost sight of his lineaments. Rebecca stood close +to her sofa, regarding him with woeful, fascinated eyes. Mrs. +Brigham clutched Caroline’s hand. They both stood in a corner out +of his way. For a few moments he raged about the room like a caged +wild animal. He moved every piece of furniture; when the moving of +a piece did not affect the shadow, he flung it to the floor, his +sisters watching. + +Then suddenly he desisted. He laughed and began straightening the +furniture which he had flung down. + +“What an absurdity,” he said easily. “Such a to-do about a +shadow.” + +“That’s so,” assented Mrs. Brigham, in a scared voice which she +tried to make natural. As she spoke she lifted a chair near her. + +“I think you have broken the chair that Edward was so fond of,” +said Caroline. + +Terror and wrath were struggling for expression on her face. Her +mouth was set, her eyes shrinking. Henry lifted the chair with a +show of anxiety. + +“Just as good as ever,” he said pleasantly. He laughed again, +looking at his sisters. “Did I scare you?” he said. “I should +think you might be used to me by this time. You know my way of +wanting to leap to the bottom of a mystery, and that shadow does +look—queer, like—and I thought if there was any way of accounting +for it I would like to without any delay.” + +“You don’t seem to have succeeded,” remarked Caroline dryly, with a +slight glance at the wall. + +Henry’s eyes followed hers and he quivered perceptibly. + +“Oh, there is no accounting for shadows,” he said, and he laughed +again. “A man is a fool to try to account for shadows.” + +Then the supper bell rang, and they all left the room, but Henry +kept his back to the wall, as did, indeed, the others. + +Mrs. Brigham pressed close to Caroline as she crossed the hall. “He +looked like a demon!” she breathed in her ear. + +Henry led the way with an alert motion like a boy; Rebecca brought +up the rear; she could scarcely walk, her knees trembled so. + +“I can’t sit in that room again this evening,” she whispered to +Caroline after supper. + +“Very well, we will sit in the south room,” replied Caroline. “I +think we will sit in the south parlor,” she said aloud; “it isn’t +as damp as the study, and I have a cold.” + +So they all sat in the south room with their sewing. Henry read +the newspaper, his chair drawn close to the lamp on the table. +About nine o’clock he rose abruptly and crossed the hall to the +study. The three sisters looked at one another. Mrs. Brigham +rose, folded her rustling skirts compactly around her, and began +tiptoeing toward the door. + +“What are you going to do?” inquired Rebecca agitatedly. + +“I am going to see what he is about,” replied Mrs. Brigham +cautiously. + +She pointed as she spoke to the study door across the hall; it was +ajar. Henry had striven to pull it together behind him, but it had +somehow swollen beyond the limit with curious speed. It was still +ajar and a streak of light showed from top to bottom. The hall +lamp was not lit. + +“You had better stay where you are,” said Caroline with guarded +sharpness. + +“I am going to see,” repeated Mrs. Brigham firmly. + +Then she folded her skirts so tightly that her bulk with its +swelling curves was revealed in a black silk sheath, and she went +with a slow toddle across the hall to the study door. She stood +there, her eye at the crack. + +In the south room Rebecca stopped sewing and sat watching with +dilated eyes. Caroline sewed steadily. What Mrs. Brigham, +standing at the crack in the study door, saw was this: + +Henry Glynn, evidently reasoning that the source of the strange +shadow must be between the table on which the lamp stood and the +wall, was making systematic passes and thrusts all over and through +the intervening space with an old sword which had belonged to his +father. Not an inch was left unpierced. He seemed to have divided +the space into mathematical sections. He brandished the sword with +a sort of cold fury and calculation; the blade gave out flashes of +light, the shadow remained unmoved. Mrs. Brigham, watching, felt +herself cold with horror. + +Finally Henry ceased and stood with the sword in hand and raised as +if to strike, surveying the shadow on the wall threateningly. Mrs. +Brigham toddled back across the hall and shut the south room door +behind her before she related what she had seen. + +“He looked like a demon!” she said again. “Have you got any of +that old wine in the house, Caroline? I don’t feel as if I could +stand much more.” + +Indeed, she looked overcome. Her handsome placid face was worn and +strained and pale. + +“Yes, there’s plenty,” said Caroline; “you can have some when you +go to bed.” + +“I think we had all better take some,” said Mrs. Brigham. “Oh, my +God, Caroline, what—” + +“Don’t ask and don’t speak,” said Caroline. + +“No, I am not going to,” replied Mrs. Brigham; “but—” + +Rebecca moaned aloud. + +“What are you doing that for?” asked Caroline harshly. + +“Poor Edward,” returned Rebecca. + +“That is all you have to groan for,” said Caroline. “There is +nothing else.” + +“I am going to bed,” said Mrs. Brigham. “I sha’n’t be able to be +at the funeral if I don’t.” + +Soon the three sisters went to their chambers and the south parlor +was deserted. Caroline called to Henry in the study to put out the +light before he came upstairs. They had been gone about an hour +when he came into the room bringing the lamp which had stood in the +study. He set it on the table and waited a few minutes, pacing up +and down. His face was terrible, his fair complexion showed livid; +his blue eyes seemed dark blanks of awful reflections. + +Then he took the lamp up and returned to the library. He set the +lamp on the centre table, and the shadow sprang out on the wall. +Again he studied the furniture and moved it about, but +deliberately, with none of his former frenzy. Nothing affected the +shadow. Then he returned to the south room with the lamp and again +waited. Again he returned to the study and placed the lamp on the +table, and the shadow sprang out upon the wall. It was midnight +before he went upstairs. Mrs. Brigham and the other sisters, who +could not sleep, heard him. + +The next day was the funeral. That evening the family sat in the +south room. Some relatives were with them. Nobody entered the +study until Henry carried a lamp in there after the others had +retired for the night. He saw again the shadow on the wall leap to +an awful life before the light. + +The next morning at breakfast Henry Glynn announced that he had to +go to the city for three days. The sisters looked at him with +surprise. He very seldom left home, and just now his practice had +been neglected on account of Edward’s death. He was a physician. + +“How can you leave your patients now?” asked Mrs. Brigham +wonderingly. + +“I don’t know how to, but there is no other way,” replied Henry +easily. “I have had a telegram from Doctor Mitford.” + +“Consultation?” inquired Mrs. Brigham. + +“I have business,” replied Henry. + +Doctor Mitford was an old classmate of his who lived in a +neighboring city and who occasionally called upon him in the case +of a consultation. + +After he had gone Mrs. Brigham said to Caroline that after all +Henry had not said that he was going to consult with Doctor +Mitford, and she thought it very strange. + +“Everything is very strange,” said Rebecca with a shudder. + +“What do you mean?” inquired Caroline sharply. + +“Nothing,” replied Rebecca. + +Nobody entered the library that day, nor the next, nor the next. +The third day Henry was expected home, but he did not arrive and +the last train from the city had come. + +“I call it pretty queer work,” said Mrs. Brigham. “The idea of a +doctor leaving his patients for three days anyhow, at such a time +as this, and I know he has some very sick ones; he said so. And +the idea of a consultation lasting three days! There is no sense +in it, and NOW he has not come. I don’t understand it, for my +part.” + +“I don’t either,” said Rebecca. + +They were all in the south parlor. There was no light in the study +opposite, and the door was ajar. + +Presently Mrs. Brigham rose—she could not have told why; something +seemed to impel her, some will outside her own. She went out of +the room, again wrapping her rustling skirts around that she might +pass noiselessly, and began pushing at the swollen door of the +study. + +“She has not got any lamp,” said Rebecca in a shaking voice. + +Caroline, who was writing letters, rose again, took a lamp (there +were two in the room) and followed her sister. Rebecca had risen, +but she stood trembling, not venturing to follow. + +The doorbell rang, but the others did not hear it; it was on the +south door on the other side of the house from the study. Rebecca, +after hesitating until the bell rang the second time, went to the +door; she remembered that the servant was out. + +Caroline and her sister Emma entered the study. Caroline set the +lamp on the table. They looked at the wall. “Oh, my God,” gasped +Mrs. Brigham, “there are—there are TWO—shadows.” The sisters +stood clutching each other, staring at the awful things on the +wall. Then Rebecca came in, staggering, with a telegram in her +hand. “Here is—a telegram,” she gasped. “Henry is—dead.” + + +From “The Wind in the Rosebush,” by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. +Copyright, 1903, by Doubleday, Page & Company. + + + + +Melville Davisson Post + + + + +Introduction to The Corpus Delicti + + +The high ground of the field of crime has not been explored; it has +not even been entered. The book stalls have been filled to +weariness with tales based upon plans whereby the DETECTIVE, or +FERRETING power of the State might be baffled. But, prodigious +marvel! no writer has attempted to construct tales based upon plans +whereby the PUNISHING power of the State might be baffled. + +The distinction, if one pauses for a moment to consider it, is +striking. It is possible, even easy, deliberately to plan crimes +so that the criminal agent and the criminal agency cannot be +detected. Is it possible to plan and execute wrongs in such a +manner that they will have all the effect and all the resulting +profit of desperate crimes and yet not be crimes before the law? + +We are prone to forget that the law is no perfect structure, that +it is simply the result of human labor and human genius, and that +whatever laws human ingenuity can create for the protection of men, +those same laws human ingenuity can evade. The Spirit of Evil is +no dwarf; he has developed equally with the Spirit of Good. + +All wrongs are not crimes. Indeed only those wrongs are crimes in +which certain technical elements are present. The law provides a +Procrustean standard for all crimes. Thus a wrong, to become +criminal, must fit exactly into the measure laid down by the law, +else it is no crime; if it varies never so little from the legal +measure, the law must, and will, refuse to regard it as criminal, +no matter how injurious a wrong it may be. There is no measure of +morality, or equity, or common right that can be applied to the +individual case. The gauge of the law is iron-bound. The wrong +measured by this gauge is either a crime or it is not. There is no +middle ground. + +Hence is it, that if one knows well the technicalities of the law, +one may commit horrible wrongs that will yield all the gain and all +the resulting effect of the highest crimes, and yet the wrongs +perpetrated will constitute no one of the crimes described by the +law. Thus the highest crimes, even murder, may be committed in +such manner that although the criminal is known and the law holds +him in custody, yet it cannot punish him. So it happens that in +this year of our Lord of the nineteenth century, the skillful +attorney marvels at the stupidity of the rogue who, committing +crimes by the ordinary methods, subjects himself to unnecessary +peril, when the result which he seeks can easily be attained by +other methods, equally expeditious and without danger of liability +in any criminal tribunal. This is the field into which the author +has ventured, and he believes it to be new and full of interest. + +It may be objected that the writer has prepared here a text-book +for the shrewd knave. To this it is answered that, if he instructs +the enemies, he also warns the friends of law and order; and that +Evil has never yet been stronger because the sun shone on it. + + +[See Lord Hale’s Rule, Russell on Crimes. For the law in New York +see 18th N. Y. Reports, 179; also N. Y. Reports, 49, page 137. The +doctrine there laid down obtains in almost every State, with the +possible exception of a few Western States, where the decisions are +muddy.] + + + + +The Corpus Delicti + + +I + + +“That man Mason,” said Samuel Walcott, “is the mysterious member of +this club. He is more than that; he is the mysterious man of New +York.” + +“I was much surprised to see him,” answered his companion, Marshall +St. Clair, of the great law firm of Seward, St. Clair & De Muth. +“I had lost track of him since he went to Paris as counsel for the +American stockholders of the Canal Company. When did he come back +to the States?” + +“He turned up suddenly in his ancient haunts about four months +ago,” said Walcott, “as grand, gloomy, and peculiar as Napoleon +ever was in his palmiest days. The younger members of the club +call him ‘Zanona Redivivus.’ He wanders through the house usually +late at night, apparently without noticing anything or anybody. +His mind seems to be deeply and busily at work, leaving his bodily +self to wander as it may happen. Naturally, strange stories are +told of him; indeed, his individuality and his habit of doing some +unexpected thing, and doing it in such a marvelously original +manner that men who are experts at it look on in wonder, cannot +fail to make him an object of interest. + +“He has never been known to play at any game whatever, and yet one +night he sat down to the chess table with old Admiral Du Brey. You +know the Admiral is the great champion since he beat the French and +English officers in the tournament last winter. Well, you also +know that the conventional openings at chess are scientifically and +accurately determined. To the utter disgust of Du Brey, Mason +opened the game with an unheard-of attack from the extremes of the +board. The old Admiral stopped and, in a kindly patronizing way, +pointed out the weak and absurd folly of his move and asked him to +begin again with some one of the safe openings. Mason smiled and +answered that if one had a head that he could trust he should use +it; if not, then it was the part of wisdom to follow blindly the +dead forms of some man who had a head. Du Brey was naturally angry +and set himself to demolish Mason as quickly as possible. The game +was rapid for a few moments. Mason lost piece after piece. His +opening was broken and destroyed and its utter folly apparent to +the lookers-on. The Admiral smiled and the game seemed all one- +sided, when, suddenly, to his utter horror, Du Brey found that his +king was in a trap. The foolish opening had been only a piece of +shrewd strategy. The old Admiral fought and cursed and sacrificed +his pieces, but it was of no use. He was gone. Mason checkmated +him in two moves and arose wearily. + +“‘Where in Heaven’s name, man,’ said the old Admiral, +thunderstruck, ‘did you learn that masterpiece?’ + +“‘Just here,’ replied Mason. ‘To play chess, one should know his +opponent. How could the dead masters lay down rules by which you +could be beaten, sir? They had never seen you’; and thereupon he +turned and left the room. Of course, St. Clair, such a strange man +would soon become an object of all kinds of mysterious rumors. +Some are true and some are not. At any rate, I know that Mason is +an unusual man with a gigantic intellect. Of late he seems to have +taken a strange fancy to me. In fact, I seem to be the only member +of the club that he will talk with, and I confess that he startles +and fascinates me. He is an original genius, St. Clair, of an +unusual order.” + +“I recall vividly,” said the younger man, “that before Mason went +to Paris he was considered one of the greatest lawyers of this city +and he was feared and hated by the bar at large. He came here, I +believe, from Virginia and began with the high-grade criminal +practice. He soon became famous for his powerful and ingenious +defenses. He found holes in the law through which his clients +escaped, holes that by the profession at large were not suspected +to exist, and that frequently astonished the judges. His ability +caught the attention of the great corporations. They tested him +and found in him learning and unlimited resources. He pointed out +methods by which they could evade obnoxious statutes, by which they +could comply with the apparent letter of the law and yet violate +its spirit, and advised them well in that most important of all +things, just how far they could bend the law without breaking it. +At the time he left for Paris he had a vast clientage and was in +the midst of a brilliant career. The day he took passage from New +York, the bar lost sight of him. No matter how great a man may be, +the wave soon closes over him in a city like this. In a few years +Mason was forgotten. Now only the older practitioners would recall +him, and they would do so with hatred and bitterness. He was a +tireless, savage, uncompromising fighter, always a recluse.” + +“Well,” said Walcott, “he reminds me of a great world-weary cynic, +transplanted from some ancient mysterious empire. When I come into +the man’s presence I feel instinctively the grip of his intellect. +I tell you, St. Clair, Randolph Mason is the mysterious man of New +York.” + +At this moment a messenger boy came into the room and handed Mr. +Walcott a telegram. “St. Clair,” said that gentleman, rising, “the +directors of the Elevated are in session, and we must hurry.” The +two men put on their coats and left the house. + +Samuel Walcott was not a club man after the manner of the Smart +Set, and yet he was in fact a club man. He was a bachelor in the +latter thirties, and resided in a great silent house on the avenue. +On the street he was a man of substance, shrewd and progressive, +backed by great wealth. He had various corporate interests in the +larger syndicates, but the basis and foundation of his fortune was +real estate. His houses on the avenue were the best possible +property, and his elevator row in the importers’ quarter was indeed +a literal gold mine. It was known that, many years before, his +grandfather had died and left him the property, which, at that +time, was of no great value. Young Walcott had gone out into the +gold-fields and had been lost sight of and forgotten. Ten years +afterwards he had turned up suddenly in New York and taken +possession of his property, then vastly increased in value. His +speculations were almost phenomenally successful, and, backed by +the now enormous value of his real property, he was soon on a level +with the merchant princes. His judgment was considered sound, and +he had the full confidence of his business associates for safety +and caution. Fortune heaped up riches around him with a lavish +hand. He was unmarried and the halo of his wealth caught the keen +eye of the matron with marriageable daughters. He was invited out, +caught by the whirl of society, and tossed into its maelstrom. In +a measure he reciprocated. He kept horses and a yacht. His +dinners at Delmonico’s and the club were above reproach. But with +all he was a silent man with a shadow deep in his eyes, and seemed +to court the society of his fellows, not because he loved them, but +because he either hated or feared solitude. For years the strategy +of the match-maker had gone gracefully afield, but Fate is +relentless. If she shields the victim from the traps of men, it is +not because she wishes him to escape, but because she is pleased to +reserve him for her own trap. So it happened that, when Virginia +St. Clair assisted Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant at her midwinter +reception, this same Samuel Walcott fell deeply and hopelessly and +utterly in love, and it was so apparent to the beaten generals +present, that Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant applauded herself, so to +speak, with encore after encore. It was good to see this +courteous, silent man literally at the feet of the young debutante. +He was there of right. Even the mothers of marriageable daughters +admitted that. The young girl was brown-haired, brown-eyed, and +tall enough, said the experts, and of the blue blood royal, with +all the grace, courtesy, and inbred genius of such princely +heritage. + +Perhaps it was objected by the censors of the Smart Set that Miss +St. Clair’s frankness and honesty were a trifle old-fashioned, and +that she was a shadowy bit of a Puritan; and perhaps it was of +these same qualities that Samuel Walcott received his hurt. At any +rate the hurt was there and deep, and the new actor stepped up into +the old time-worn, semi-tragic drama, and began his role with a +tireless, utter sincerity that was deadly dangerous if he lost. + + +II + + +Perhaps a week after the conversation between St. Clair and +Walcott, Randolph Mason stood in the private waiting-room of the +club with his hands behind his back. + +He was a man apparently in the middle forties; tall and reasonably +broad across the shoulders; muscular without being either stout or +lean. His hair was thin and of a brown color, with erratic streaks +of gray. His forehead was broad and high and of a faint reddish +color. His eyes were restless inky black, and not over-large. The +nose was big and muscular and bowed. The eyebrows were black and +heavy, almost bushy. There were heavy furrows, running from the +nose downward and outward to the corners of the mouth. The mouth +was straight and the jaw was heavy, and square. + +Looking at the face of Randolph Mason from above, the expression in +repose was crafty and cynical; viewed from below upward, it was +savage and vindictive, almost brutal; while from the front, if +looked squarely in the face, the stranger was fascinated by the +animation of the man and at once concluded that his expression was +fearless and sneering. He was evidently of Southern extraction and +a man of unusual power. + +A fire smoldered on the hearth. It was a crisp evening in the +early fall, and with that far-off touch of melancholy which ever +heralds the coming winter, even in the midst of a city. The man’s +face looked tired and ugly. His long white hands were clasped +tight together. His entire figure and face wore every mark of +weakness and physical exhaustion; but his eyes contradicted. They +were red and restless. + +In the private dining-room the dinner party was in the best of +spirits. Samuel Walcott was happy. Across the table from him was +Miss Virginia St. Clair, radiant, a tinge of color in her cheeks. +On either side, Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant and Marshall St. Clair were +brilliant and lighthearted. Walcott looked at the young girl and +the measure of his worship was full. He wondered for the +thousandth time how she could possibly love him and by what earthly +miracle she had come to accept him, and how it would be always to +have her across the table from him, his own table in his own house. + +They were about to rise from the table when one of the waiters +entered the room and handed Walcott an envelope. He thrust it +quickly into his pocket. In the confusion of rising the others did +not notice him, but his face was ash white and his hands trembled +violently as he placed the wraps around the bewitching shoulders of +Miss St. Clair. + +“Marshall,” he said, and despite the powerful effort his voice was +hollow, “you will see the ladies safely cared for, I am called to +attend a grave matter.” + +“All right, Walcott,” answered the young man, with cheery good +nature, “you are too serious, old man, trot along.” + +“The poor dear,” murmured Mrs. Steuvisant, after Walcott had helped +them to the carriage and turned to go up the steps of the club,— +“The poor dear is hard hit, and men are such funny creatures when +they are hard hit.” + +Samuel Walcott, as his fate would, went direct to the private +writing-room and opened the door. The lights were not turned on +and in the dark he did not see Mason motionless by the mantel- +shelf. He went quickly across the room to the writing-table, +turned on one of the lights, and, taking the envelope from his +pocket, tore it open. Then he bent down by the light to read the +contents. As his eyes ran over the paper, his jaw fell. The skin +drew away from his cheekbones and his face seemed literally to sink +in. His knees gave way under him and he would have gone down in a +heap had it not been for Mason’s long arms that closed around him +and held him up. The human economy is ever mysterious. The moment +the new danger threatened, the latent power of the man as an +animal, hidden away in the centers of intelligence, asserted +itself. His hand clutched the paper and, with a half slide, he +turned in Mason’s arms. For a moment he stared up at the ugly man +whose thin arms felt like wire ropes. + +“You are under the dead-fall, aye,” said Mason. “The cunning of my +enemy is sublime.” + +“Your enemy?” gasped Walcott. “When did you come into it? How in +God’s name did you know it? How your enemy?” + +Mason looked down at the wide bulging eyes of the man. + +“Who should know better than I?” he said. “Haven’t I broken +through all the traps and plots that she could set?” + +“She? She trap you?” The man’s voice was full of horror. + +“The old schemer,” muttered Mason. “The cowardly old schemer, to +strike in the back; but we can beat her. She did not count on my +helping you—I, who know her so well.” + +Mason’s face was red, and his eyes burned. In the midst of it all +he dropped his hands and went over to the fire. Samuel Walcott +arose, panting, and stood looking at Mason, with his hands behind +him on the table. The naturally strong nature and the rigid school +in which the man had been trained presently began to tell. His +composure in part returned and he thought rapidly. What did this +strange man know? Was he simply making shrewd guesses, or had he +some mysterious knowledge of this matter? Walcott could not know +that Mason meant only Fate, that he believed her to be his great +enemy. Walcott had never before doubted his own ability to meet +any emergency. This mighty jerk had carried him off his feet. He +was unstrung and panic-stricken. At any rate this man had promised +help. He would take it. He put the paper and envelope carefully +into his pocket, smoothed out his rumpled coat, and going over to +Mason touched him on the shoulder. + +“Come,” he said, “if you are to help me we must go.” + +The man turned and followed him without a word. In the hall Mason +put on his hat and overcoat, and the two went out into the street. +Walcott hailed a cab, and the two were driven to his house on the +avenue. Walcott took out his latchkey, opened the door, and led +the way into the library. He turned on the light and motioned +Mason to seat himself at the table. Then he went into another room +and presently returned with a bundle of papers and a decanter of +brandy. He poured out a glass of the liquor and offered it to +Mason. The man shook his head. Walcott poured the contents of the +glass down his own throat. Then he set the decanter down and drew +up a chair on the side of the table opposite Mason. + +“Sir,” said Walcott, in a voice deliberate, indeed, but as hollow +as a sepulcher, “I am done for. God has finally gathered up the +ends of the net, and it is knotted tight.” + +“Am I not here to help you?” said Mason, turning savagely. “I can +beat Fate. Give me the details of her trap.” + +He bent forward and rested his arms on the table. His streaked +gray hair was rumpled and on end, and his face was ugly. For a +moment Walcott did not answer. He moved a little into the shadow; +then he spread the bundle of old yellow papers out before him. + +“To begin with,” he said, “I am a living lie, a gilded crime-made +sham, every bit of me. There is not an honest piece anywhere. It +is all lie. I am a liar and a thief before men. The property +which I possess is not mine, but stolen from a dead man. The very +name which I bear is not my own, but is the bastard child of a +crime. I am more than all that—I am a murderer; a murderer before +the law; a murderer before God; and worse than a murderer before +the pure woman whom I love more than anything that God could make.” + +He paused for a moment and wiped the perspiration from his face. + +“Sir,” said Mason, “this is all drivel, infantile drivel. What you +are is of no importance. How to get out is the problem, how to get +out.” + +Samuel Walcott leaned forward, poured out a glass of brandy and +swallowed it. + +“Well,” he said, speaking slowly, “my right name is Richard Warren. +In the spring of 1879 I came to New York and fell in with the real +Samuel Walcott, a young man with a little money and some property +which his grandfather had left him. We became friends, and +concluded to go to the far west together. Accordingly we scraped +together what money we could lay our hands on, and landed in the +gold-mining regions of California. We were young and +inexperienced, and our money went rapidly. One April morning we +drifted into a little shack camp, away up in the Sierra Nevadas, +called Hell’s Elbow. Here we struggled and starved for perhaps a +year. Finally, in utter desperation, Walcott married the daughter +of a Mexican gambler, who ran an eating house and a poker joint. +With them we lived from hand to mouth in a wild God-forsaken way +for several years. After a time the woman began to take a strange +fancy to me. Walcott finally noticed it, and grew jealous. + +“One night, in a drunken brawl, we quarreled, and I killed him. It +was late at night, and, beside the woman, there were four of us in +the poker room,—the Mexican gambler, a half-breed devil called +Cherubim Pete, Walcott, and myself. When Walcott fell, the half- +breed whipped out his weapon, and fired at me across the table; but +the woman, Nina San Croix, struck his arm, and, instead of killing +me, as he intended, the bullet mortally wounded her father, the +Mexican gambler. I shot the half-breed through the forehead, and +turned round, expecting the woman to attack me. On the contrary, +she pointed to the window, and bade me wait for her on the cross +trail below. + +“It was fully three hours later before the woman joined me at the +place indicated. She had a bag of gold dust, a few jewels that +belonged to her father, and a package of papers. I asked her why +she had stayed behind so long, and she replied that the men were +not killed outright, and that she had brought a priest to them and +waited until they had died. This was the truth, but not all the +truth. Moved by superstition or foresight, the woman had induced +the priest to take down the sworn statements of the two dying men, +seal it, and give it to her. This paper she brought with her. All +this I learned afterwards. At the time I knew nothing of this +damning evidence. + +“We struck out together for the Pacific coast. The country was +lawless. The privations we endured were almost past belief. At +times the woman exhibited cunning and ability that were almost +genius; and through it all, often in the very fingers of death, her +devotion to me never wavered. It was doglike, and seemed to be her +only object on earth. When we reached San Francisco, the woman put +these papers into my hands.” Walcott took up the yellow package, +and pushed it across the table to Mason. + +“She proposed that I assume Walcott’s name, and that we come boldly +to New York and claim the property. I examined the papers, found a +copy of the will by which Walcott inherited the property, a bundle +of correspondence, and sufficient documentary evidence to establish +his identity beyond the shadow of a doubt. Desperate gambler as I +now was, I quailed before the daring plan of Nina San Croix. I +urged that I, Richard Warren, would be known, that the attempted +fraud would be detected and would result in investigation, and +perhaps unearth the whole horrible matter. + +“The woman pointed out how much I resembled Walcott, what vast +changes ten years of such life as we had led would naturally be +expected to make in men, how utterly impossible it would be to +trace back the fraud to Walcott’s murder at Hell’s Elbow, in the +wild passes of the Sierra Nevadas. She bade me remember that we +were both outcasts, both crime-branded, both enemies of man’s law +and God’s; that we had nothing to lose; we were both sunk to the +bottom. Then she laughed, and said that she had not found me a +coward until now, but that if I had turned chicken-hearted, that +was the end of it, of course. The result was, we sold the gold +dust and jewels in San Francisco, took on such evidences of +civilization as possible, and purchased passage to New York on the +best steamer we could find. + +“I was growing to depend on the bold gambler spirit of this woman, +Nina San Croix; I felt the need of her strong, profligate nature. +She was of a queer breed and a queerer school. Her mother was the +daughter of a Spanish engineer, and had been stolen by the Mexican, +her father. She herself had been raised and educated as best might +be in one of the monasteries along the Rio Grande, and had there +grown to womanhood before her father, fleeing into the mountains of +California, carried her with him. + +“When we landed in New York I offered to announce her as my wife, +but she refused, saying that her presence would excite comment and +perhaps attract the attention of Walcott’s relatives. We therefore +arranged that I should go alone into the city, claim the property, +and announce myself as Samuel Walcott, and that she should remain +under cover until such time as we would feel the ground safe under +us. + +“Every detail of the plan was fatally successful. I established my +identity without difficulty and secured the property. It had +increased vastly in value, and I, as Samuel Walcott, soon found +myself a rich man. I went to Nina San Croix in hiding and gave her +a large sum of money, with which she purchased a residence in a +retired part of the city, far up in the northern suburb. Here she +lived secluded and unknown while I remained in the city, living +here as a wealthy bachelor. + +“I did not attempt to abandon the woman, but went to her from time +to time in disguise and under cover of the greatest secrecy. For a +time everything ran smooth, the woman was still devoted to me above +everything else, and thought always of my welfare first and seemed +content to wait so long as I thought best. My business expanded. +I was sought after and consulted and drawn into the higher life of +New York, and more and more felt that the woman was an albatross on +my neck. I put her off with one excuse after another. Finally she +began to suspect me and demanded that I should recognize her as my +wife. I attempted to point out the difficulties. She met them all +by saying that we should both go to Spain, there I could marry her +and we could return to America and drop into my place in society +without causing more than a passing comment. + +“I concluded to meet the matter squarely once for all. I said that +I would convert half of the property into money and give it to her, +but that I would not marry her. She did not fly into a storming +rage as I had expected, but went quietly out of the room and +presently returned with two papers, which she read. One was the +certificate of her marriage to Walcott duly authenticated; the +other was the dying statement of her father, the Mexican gambler, +and of Samuel Walcott, charging me with murder. It was in proper +form and certified by the Jesuit priest. + +“‘Now,’ she said, sweetly, when she had finished, ‘which do you +prefer, to recognize your wife, or to turn all the property over to +Samuel Walcott’s widow and hang for his murder?’ + +“I was dumfounded and horrified. I saw the trap that I was in and +I consented to do anything she should say if she would only destroy +the papers. This she refused to do. I pleaded with her and +implored her to destroy them. Finally she gave them to me with a +great show of returning confidence, and I tore them into bits and +threw them into the fire. + +“That was three months ago. We arranged to go to Spain and do as +she said. She was to sail this morning and I was to follow. Of +course I never intended to go. I congratulated myself on the fact +that all trace of evidence against me was destroyed and that her +grip was now broken. My plan was to induce her to sail, believing +that I would follow. When she was gone I would marry Miss St. +Clair, and if Nina San Croix should return I would defy her and +lock her up as a lunatic. But I was reckoning like an infernal +ass, to imagine for a moment that I could thus hoodwink such a +woman as Nina San Croix. + +“To-night I received this.” Walcott took the envelope from his +pocket and gave it to Mason. “You saw the effect of it; read it +and you will understand why. I felt the death hand when I saw her +writing on the envelope.” + +Mason took the paper from the envelope. It was written in Spanish, +and ran: + + +“Greeting to RICHARD WARREN. + +“The great Senor does his little Nina injustice to think she would +go away to Spain and leave him to the beautiful American. She is +not so thoughtless. Before she goes, she shall be, Oh so very +rich! and the dear Senor shall be, Oh so very safe! The Archbishop +and the kind Church hate murderers. + +“NINA SAN CROIX. + +“Of course, fool, the papers you destroyed were copies. + +“N. SAN C.” + + +To this was pinned a line in a delicate aristocratic hand saying +that the Archbishop would willingly listen to Madam San Croix’s +statement if she would come to him on Friday morning at eleven. + +“You see,” said Walcott, desperately, “there is no possible way +out. I know the woman—when she decides to do a thing that is the +end of it. She has decided to do this.” + +Mason turned around from the table, stretched out his long legs, +and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. Walcott sat with his +head down, watching Mason hopelessly, almost indifferently, his +face blank and sunken. The ticking of the bronze clock on the +mantel shelf was loud, painfully loud. Suddenly Mason drew his +knees in and bent over, put both his bony hands on the table, and +looked at Walcott. + +“Sir,” he said, “this matter is in such shape that there is only +one thing to do. This growth must be cut out at the roots, and cut +out quickly. This is the first fact to be determined, and a fool +would know it. The second fact is that you must do it yourself. +Hired killers are like the grave and the daughters of the horse +leech,—they cry always, ‘Give, Give.’ They are only palliatives, +not cures. By using them you swap perils. You simply take a stay +of execution at best. The common criminal would know this. These +are the facts of your problem. The master plotters of crime would +see here but two difficulties to meet: + +“A practical method for accomplishing the body of the crime. + +“A cover for the criminal agent. + +“They would see no farther, and attempt to guard no farther. After +they had provided a plan for the killing, and a means by which the +killer could cover his trail and escape from the theater of the +homicide, they would believe all the requirements of the problems +met, and would stop. The greatest, the very giants among them, +have stopped here and have been in great error. + +“In every crime, especially in the great ones, there exists a third +element, preeminently vital. This third element the master +plotters have either overlooked or else have not had the genius to +construct. They plan with rare cunning to baffle the victim. They +plan with vast wisdom, almost genius, to baffle the trailer. But +they fail utterly to provide any plan for baffling the punisher. +Ergo, their plots are fatally defective and often result in ruin. +Hence the vital necessity for providing the third element—the +escape ipso jure.” + +Mason arose, walked around the table, and put his hand firmly on +Samuel Walcott’s shoulder. “This must be done to-morrow night,” he +continued; “you must arrange your business matters to-morrow and +announce that you are going on a yacht cruise, by order of your +physician, and may not return for some weeks. You must prepare +your yacht for a voyage, instruct your men to touch at a certain +point on Staten Island, and wait until six o’clock day after +tomorrow morning. If you do not come aboard by that time, they are +to go to one of the South American ports and remain until further +orders. By this means your absence for an indefinite period will +be explained. You will go to Nina San Croix in the disguise which +you have always used, and from her to the yacht, and by this means +step out of your real status and back into it without leaving +traces. I will come here to-morrow evening and furnish you with +everything that you shall need and give you full and exact +instructions in every particular. These details you must execute +with the greatest care, as they will be vitally essential to the +success of my plan.” + +Through it all Walcott had been silent and motionless. Now he +arose, and in his face there must have been some premonition of +protest, for Mason stepped back and put out his hand. “Sir,” he +said, with brutal emphasis, “not a word. Remember that you are +only the hand, and the hand does not think.” Then he turned around +abruptly and went out of the house. + + +III + + +The place which Samuel Walcott had selected for the residence of +Nina San Croix was far up in the northern suburb of New York. The +place was very old. The lawn was large and ill kept; the house, a +square old-fashioned brick, was set far back from the street, and +partly hidden by trees. Around it all was a rusty iron fence. The +place had the air of genteel ruin, such as one finds in the +Virginias. + +On a Thursday of November, about three o’clock in the afternoon, a +little man, driving a dray, stopped in the alley at the rear of the +house. As he opened the back gate an old negro woman came down the +steps from the kitchen and demanded to know what he wanted. The +drayman asked if the lady of the house was in. The old negro +answered that she was asleep at this hour and could not be seen. + +“That is good,” said the little man, “now there won’t be any row. +I brought up some cases of wine which she ordered from our house +last week and which the Boss told me to deliver at once, but I +forgot it until to-day. Just let me put it in the cellar now, +Auntie, and don’t say a word to the lady about it and she won’t +ever know that it was not brought up on time.” + +The drayman stopped, fished a silver dollar out of his pocket, and +gave it to the old negro. “There now, Auntie,” he said, “my job +depends upon the lady not knowing about this wine; keep it mum.” + +“Dat’s all right, honey,” said the old servant, beaming like a May +morning. “De cellar door is open, carry it all in and put it in de +back part and nobody ain’t never going to know how long it has been +in dar.” + +The old negro went back into the kitchen and the little man began +to unload the dray. He carried in five wine cases and stowed them +away in the back part of the cellar as the old woman had directed. +Then, after having satisfied himself that no one was watching, he +took from the dray two heavy paper sacks, presumably filled with +flour, and a little bundle wrapped in an old newspaper; these he +carefully hid behind the wine cases in the cellar. After awhile he +closed the door, climbed on his dray, and drove off down the alley. + +About eight o’clock in the evening of the same day, a Mexican +sailor dodged in the front gate and slipped down to the side of the +house. He stopped by the window and tapped on it with his finger. +In a moment a woman opened the door. She was tall, lithe, and +splendidly proportioned, with a dark Spanish face and straight +hair. The man stepped inside. The woman bolted the door and +turned round. + +“Ah,” she said, smiling, “it is you, Senor? How good of you!” + +The man started. “Whom else did you expect?” he said quickly. + +“Oh!” laughed the woman, “perhaps the Archbishop.” + +“Nina!” said the man, in a broken voice that expressed love, +humility, and reproach. His face was white under the black +sunburn. + +For a moment the woman wavered. A shadow flitted over her eyes, +then she stepped back. “No,” she said, “not yet.” + +The man walked across to the fire, sank down in a chair, and +covered his face with his hands. The woman stepped up noiselessly +behind him and leaned over the chair. The man was either in great +agony or else he was a superb actor, for the muscles of his neck +twitched violently and his shoulders trembled. + +“Oh,” he muttered, as though echoing his thoughts, “I can’t do it, +I can’t!” + +The woman caught the words and leaped up as though some one had +struck her in the face. She threw back her head. Her nostrils +dilated and her eyes flashed. + +“You can’t do it!” she cried. “Then you do love her! You shall do +it! Do you hear me? You shall do it! You killed him! You got +rid of him! but you shall not get rid of me. I have the evidence, +all of it. The Archbishop will have it to-morrow. They shall hang +you! Do you hear me? They shall hang you!” + +The woman’s voice rose, it was loud and shrill. The man turned +slowly round without looking up, and stretched out his arms toward +the woman. She stopped and looked down at him. The fire glittered +for a moment and then died out of her eyes, her bosom heaved and +her lips began to tremble. With a cry she flung herself into his +arms, caught him around the neck, and pressed his face up close +against her cheek. + +“Oh! Dick, Dick,” she sobbed, “I do love you so! I can’t live +without you! Not another hour, Dick! I do want you so much, so +much, Dick!” + +The man shifted his right arm quickly, slipped a great Mexican +knife out of his sleeve, and passed his fingers slowly up the +woman’s side until he felt the heart beat under his hand, then he +raised the knife, gripped the handle tight, and drove the keen +blade into the woman’s bosom. The hot blood gushed out over his +arm, and down on his leg. The body, warm and limp, slipped down in +his arms. The man got up, pulled out the knife, and thrust it into +a sheath at his belt, unbuttoned the dress, and slipped it off of +the body. As he did this a bundle of papers dropped upon the +floor; these he glanced at hastily and put into his pocket. Then +he took the dead woman up in his arms, went out into the hall, and +started to go up the stairway. The body was relaxed and heavy, and +for that reason difficult to carry. He doubled it up into an awful +heap, with the knees against the chin, and walked slowly and +heavily up the stairs and out into the bathroom. There he laid the +corpse down on the tiled floor. Then he opened the window, closed +the shutters, and lighted the gas. The bathroom was small and +contained an ordinary steel tub, porcelain lined, standing near the +window and raised about six inches above the floor. The sailor +went over to the tub, pried up the metal rim of the outlet with his +knife, removed it, and fitted into its place a porcelain disk which +he took from his pocket; to this disk was attached a long platinum +wire, the end of which he fastened on the outside of the tub. +After he had done this he went back to the body, stripped off its +clothing, put it down in the tub and began to dismember it with the +great Mexican knife. The blade was strong and sharp as a razor. +The man worked rapidly and with the greatest care. + +When he had finally cut the body into as small pieces as possible, +he replaced the knife in its sheath, washed his hands, and went out +of the bathroom and downstairs to the lower hall. The sailor +seemed perfectly familiar with the house. By a side door he passed +into the cellar. There he lighted the gas, opened one of the wine +cases, and, taking up all the bottles that he could conveniently +carry, returned to the bathroom. There he poured the contents into +the tub on the dismembered body, and then returned to the cellar +with the empty bottles, which he replaced in the wine cases. This +he continued to do until all the cases but one were emptied and the +bath tub was more than half full of liquid. This liquid was +sulphuric acid. + +When the sailor returned to the cellar with the last empty wine +bottles, he opened the fifth case, which really contained wine, +took some of it out, and poured a little into each of the empty +bottles in order to remove any possible odor of the sulphuric acid. +Then he turned out the gas and brought up to the bathroom with him +the two paper flour sacks and the little heavy bundle. These sacks +were filled with nitrate of soda. He set them down by the door, +opened the little bundle, and took out two long rubber tubes, each +attached to a heavy gas burner, not unlike the ordinary burners of +a small gas stove. He fastened the tubes to two of the gas jets, +put the burners under the tub, turned the gas on full, and lighted +it. Then he threw into the tub the woman’s clothing and the papers +which he had found on her body, after which he took up the two +heavy sacks of nitrate of soda and dropped them carefully into the +sulphuric acid. When he had done this he went quickly out of the +bathroom and closed the door. + +The deadly acids at once attacked the body and began to destroy it; +as the heat increased, the acids boiled and the destructive process +was rapid and awful. From time to time the sailor opened the door +of the bathroom cautiously, and, holding a wet towel over his mouth +and nose, looked in at his horrible work. At the end of a few +hours there was only a swimming mass in the tub. When the man +looked at four o’clock, it was all a thick murky liquid. He turned +off the gas quickly and stepped back out of the room. For perhaps +half an hour he waited in the hall; finally, when the acids had +cooled so that they no longer gave off fumes, he opened the door +and went in, took hold of the platinum wire and, pulling the +porcelain disk from the stopcock, allowed the awful contents of the +tub to run out. Then he turned on the hot water, rinsed the tub +clean, and replaced the metal outlet. Removing the rubber tubes, +he cut them into pieces, broke the porcelain disk, and, rolling up +the platinum wire, washed it all down the sewer pipe. + +The fumes had escaped through the open window; this he now closed +and set himself to putting the bathroom in order, and effectually +removing every trace of his night’s work. The sailor moved around +with the very greatest degree of care. Finally, when he had +arranged everything to his complete satisfaction, he picked up the +two burners, turned out the gas, and left the bathroom, closing the +door after him. From the bathroom he went directly to the attic, +concealed the two rusty burners under a heap of rubbish, and then +walked carefully and noiselessly down the stairs and through the +lower hall. As he opened the door and stepped into the room where +he had killed the woman, two police officers sprang out and seized +him. The man screamed like a wild beast taken in a trap and sank +down. + +“Oh! oh!” he cried, “it was no use! it was no use to do it!” Then +he recovered himself in a manner and was silent. The officers +handcuffed him, summoned the patrol, and took him at once to the +station house. There he said he was a Mexican sailor and that his +name was Victor Ancona; but he would say nothing further. The +following morning he sent for Randolph Mason and the two were long +together. + + +IV + + +The obscure defendant charged with murder has little reason to +complain of the law’s delays. The morning following the arrest of +Victor Ancona, the newspapers published long sensational articles, +denounced him as a fiend, and convicted him. The grand jury, as it +happened, was in session. The preliminaries were soon arranged and +the case was railroaded into trial. The indictment contained a +great many counts, and charged the prisoner with the murder of Nina +San Croix by striking, stabbing, choking, poisoning, and so forth. + +The trial had continued for three days and had appeared so +overwhelmingly one-sided that the spectators who were crowded in +the court room had grown to be violent and bitter partisans, to +such an extent that the police watched them closely. The attorneys +for the People were dramatic and denunciatory, and forced their +case with arrogant confidence. Mason, as counsel for the prisoner, +was indifferent and listless. Throughout the entire trial he had +sat almost motionless at the table, his gaunt form bent over, his +long legs drawn up under his chair, and his weary, heavy-muscled +face, with its restless eyes, fixed and staring out over the heads +of the jury, was like a tragic mask. The bar, and even the judge, +believed that the prisoner’s counsel had abandoned his case. + +The evidence was all in and the People rested. It had been shown +that Nina San Croix had resided for many years in the house in +which the prisoner was arrested; that she had lived by herself, +with no other companion than an old negro servant; that her past +was unknown, and that she received no visitors, save the Mexican +sailor, who came to her house at long intervals. Nothing whatever +was shown tending to explain who the prisoner was or whence he had +come. It was shown that on Tuesday preceding the killing the +Archbishop had received a communication from Nina San Croix, in +which she said she desired to make a statement of the greatest +import, and asking for an audience. To this the Archbishop replied +that he would willingly grant her a hearing if she would come to +him at eleven o’clock on Friday morning. Two policemen testified +that about eight o’clock on the night of Thursday they had noticed +the prisoner slip into the gate of Nina San Croix’s residence and +go down to the side of the house, where he was admitted; that his +appearance and seeming haste had attracted their attention; that +they had concluded that it was some clandestine amour, and out of +curiosity had both slipped down to the house and endeavored to find +a position from which they could see into the room, but were unable +to do so, and were about to go back to the street when they heard a +woman’s voice cry out in, great anger: “I know that you love her +and that you want to get rid of me, but you shall not do it! You +murdered him, but you shall not murder me! I have all the evidence +to convict you of murdering him! The Archbishop will have it to- +morrow! They shall hang you! Do you hear me? They shall hang you +for this murder!” that thereupon one of the policemen proposed that +they should break into the house and see what was wrong, but the +other had urged that it was only the usual lovers’ quarrel and if +they should interfere they would find nothing upon which a charge +could be based and would only be laughed at by the chief; that they +had waited and listened for a time, but hearing nothing further had +gone back to the street and contented themselves with keeping a +strict watch on the house. + +The People proved further, that on Thursday evening Nina San Croix +had given the old negro domestic a sum of money and dismissed her, +with the instruction that she was not to return until sent for. +The old woman testified that she had gone directly to the house of +her son, and later had discovered that she had forgotten some +articles of clothing which she needed; that thereupon she had +returned to the house and had gone up the back way to her room,— +this was about eight o’clock; that while there she had heard Nina +San Croix’s voice in great passion and remembered that she had used +the words stated by the policemen; that these sudden, violent cries +had frightened her greatly and she had bolted the door and been +afraid to leave the room; shortly thereafter, she had heard heavy +footsteps ascending the stairs, slowly and with great difficulty, +as though some one were carrying a heavy burden; that therefore her +fear had increased and that she had put out the light and hidden +under the bed. She remembered hearing the footsteps moving about +upstairs for many hours, how long she could not tell. Finally, +about half-past four in the morning, she crept out, opened the +door, slipped downstairs, and ran out into the street. There she +had found the policemen and requested them to search the house. + +The two officers had gone to the house with the woman. She had +opened the door and they had had just time to step back into the +shadow when the prisoner entered. When arrested, Victor Ancona had +screamed with terror, and cried out, “It was no use! it was no use +to do it!” + +The Chief of Police had come to the house and instituted a careful +search. In the room below, from which the cries had come, he found +a dress which was identified as belonging to Nina San Croix and +which she was wearing when last seen by the domestic, about six +o’clock that evening. This dress was covered with blood, and had a +slit about two inches long in the left side of the bosom, into +which the Mexican knife, found on the prisoner, fitted perfectly. +These articles were introduced in evidence, and it was shown that +the slit would be exactly over the heart of the wearer, and that +such a wound would certainly result in death. There was much blood +on one of the chairs and on the floor. There was also blood on the +prisoner’s coat and the leg of his trousers, and the heavy Mexican +knife was also bloody. The blood was shown by the experts to be +human blood. + +The body of the woman was not found, and the most rigid and +tireless search failed to develop the slightest trace of the +corpse, or the manner of its disposal. The body of the woman had +disappeared as completely as though it had vanished into the air. + +When counsel announced that he had closed for the People, the judge +turned and looked gravely down at Mason. “Sir,” he said, “the +evidence for the defense may now be introduced.” + +Randolph Mason arose slowly and faced the judge. + +“If your Honor please,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, +“the defendant has no evidence to offer.” He paused while a murmur +of astonishment ran over the court room. “But, if your Honor +please,” he continued, “I move that the jury be directed to find +the prisoner not guilty.” + +The crowd stirred. The counsel for the People smiled. The judge +looked sharply at the speaker over his glasses. “On what ground?” +he said curtly. + +“On the ground,” replied Mason, “that the corpus delicti has not +been proven.” + +“Ah!” said the judge, for once losing his judicial gravity. Mason +sat down abruptly. The senior counsel for the prosecution was on +his feet in a moment. + +“What!” he said, “the gentleman bases his motion on a failure to +establish the corpus delicti? Does he jest, or has he forgotten +the evidence? The term ‘corpus delicti’ is technical, and means +the body of the crime, or the substantial fact that a crime has +been committed. Does anyone doubt it in this case? It is true +that no one actually saw the prisoner kill the decedent, and that +he has so successfully hidden the body that it has not been found, +but the powerful chain of circumstances, clear and close-linked, +proving motive, the criminal agency, and the criminal act, is +overwhelming. + +“The victim in this case is on the eve of making a statement that +would prove fatal to the prisoner. The night before the statement +is to be made he goes to her residence. They quarrel. Her voice +is heard, raised high in the greatest passion, denouncing him, and +charging that he is a murderer, that she has the evidence and will +reveal it, that he shall be hanged, and that he shall not be rid of +her. Here is the motive for the crime, clear as light. Are not +the bloody knife, the bloody dress, the bloody clothes of the +prisoner, unimpeachable witnesses to the criminal act? The +criminal agency of the prisoner has not the shadow of a possibility +to obscure it. His motive is gigantic. The blood on him, and his +despair when arrested, cry ‘Murder! murder!’ with a thousand +tongues. + +“Men may lie, but circumstances cannot. The thousand hopes and +fears and passions of men may delude, or bias the witness. Yet it +is beyond the human mind to conceive that a clear, complete chain +of concatenated circumstances can be in error. Hence it is that +the greatest jurists have declared that such evidence, being rarely +liable to delusion or fraud, is safest and most powerful. The +machinery of human justice cannot guard against the remote and +improbable doubt. The inference is persistent in the affairs of +men. It is the only means by which the human mind reaches the +truth. If you forbid the jury to exercise it, you bid them work +after first striking off their hands. Rule out the irresistible +inference, and the end of justice is come in this land; and you may +as well leave the spider to weave his web through the abandoned +court room.” + +The attorney stopped, looked down at Mason with a pompous sneer, +and retired to his place at the table. The judge sat thoughtful +and motionless. The jurymen leaned forward in their seats. + +“If your Honor please,” said Mason, rising, “this is a matter of +law, plain, clear, and so well settled in the State of New York +that even counsel for the People should know it. The question +before your Honor is simple. If the corpus delicti, the body of +the crime, has been proven, as required by the laws of the +commonwealth, then this case should go to the jury. If not, then +it is the duty of this Court to direct the jury to find the +prisoner not guilty. There is here no room for judicial +discretion. Your Honor has but to recall and apply the rigid rule +announced by our courts prescribing distinctly how the corpus +delicti in murder must be proven. + +“The prisoner here stands charged with the highest crime. The law +demands, first, that the crime, as a fact, be established. The +fact that the victim is indeed dead must first be made certain +before anyone can be convicted for her killing, because, so long as +there remains the remotest doubt as to the death, there can be no +certainty as to the criminal agent, although the circumstantial +evidence indicating the guilt of the accused may be positive, +complete, and utterly irresistible. In murder, the corpus delicti, +or body of the crime, is composed of two elements: + +“Death, as a result. + +“The criminal agency of another as the means. + +“It is the fixed and immutable law of this State, laid down in the +leading case of Ruloff v. The People, and binding upon this Court, +that both components of the corpus delicti shall not be established +by circumstantial evidence. There must be direct proof of one or +the other of these two component elements of the corpus delicti. +If one is proven by direct evidence, the other may be presumed; but +both shall not be presumed from circumstances, no matter how +powerful, how cogent, or how completely overwhelming the +circumstances may be. In other words, no man can be convicted of +murder in the State of New York, unless the body of the victim be +found and identified, or there be direct proof that the prisoner +did some act adequate to produce death, and did it in such a manner +as to account for the disappearance of the body.” + +The face of the judge cleared and grew hard. The members of the +bar were attentive and alert; they were beginning to see the legal +escape open up. The audience were puzzled; they did not yet +understand. Mason turned to the counsel for the People. His ugly +face was bitter with contempt. + +“For three days,” he said, “I have been tortured by this useless +and expensive farce. If counsel for the People had been other than +play-actors, they would have known in the beginning that Victor +Ancona could not be convicted for murder, unless he were confronted +in this court room with a living witness, who had looked into the +dead face of Nina San Croix; or, if not that, a living witness who +had seen him drive the dagger into her bosom. + +“I care not if the circumstantial evidence in this case were so +strong and irresistible as to be overpowering; if the judge on the +bench, if the jury, if every man within sound of my voice, were +convinced of the guilt of the prisoner to the degree of certainty +that is absolute; if the circumstantial evidence left in the mind +no shadow of the remotest improbable doubt; yet, in the absence of +the eyewitness, this prisoner cannot be punished, and this Court +must compel the jury to acquit him.” + +The audience now understood, and they were dumfounded. Surely this +was not the law. They had been taught that the law was common +sense, and this,—this was anything else. + +Mason saw it all, and grinned. “In its tenderness,” he sneered, +“the law shields the innocent. The good law of New York reaches +out its hand and lifts the prisoner out of the clutches of the +fierce jury that would hang him.” + +Mason sat down. The room was silent. The jurymen looked at each +other in amazement. The counsel for the People arose. His face +was white with anger, and incredulous. + +“Your Honor,” he said, “this doctrine is monstrous. Can it be said +that, in order to evade punishment, the murderer has only to hide +or destroy the body of the victim, or sink it into the sea? Then, +if he is not seen to kill, the law is powerless and the murderer +can snap his finger in the face of retributive justice. If this is +the law, then the law for the highest crime is a dead letter. The +great commonwealth winks at murder and invites every man to kill +his enemy, provided he kill him in secret and hide him. I repeat, +your Honor,”—the man’s voice was now loud and angry and rang +through the court room—“that this doctrine is monstrous!” + +“So said Best, and Story, and many another,” muttered Mason, “and +the law remained.” + +“The Court,” said the judge, abruptly, “desires no further +argument.” + +The counsel for the People resumed his seat. His face lighted up +with triumph. The Court was going to sustain him. + +The judge turned and looked down at the jury. He was grave, and +spoke with deliberate emphasis. + +“Gentlemen of the jury,” he said, “the rule of Lord Hale obtains in +this State and is binding upon me. It is the law as stated by +counsel for the prisoner: that to warrant conviction of murder +there must be direct proof either of the death, as of the finding +and identification of the corpse, or of criminal violence adequate +to produce death, and exerted in such a manner as to account for +the disappearance of the body; and it is only when there is direct +proof of the one that the other can be established by +circumstantial evidence. This is the law, and cannot now be +departed from. I do not presume to explain its wisdom. Chief- +Justice Johnson has observed, in the leading case, that it may have +its probable foundation in the idea that where direct proof is +absent as to both the fact of the death and of criminal violence +capable of producing death, no evidence can rise to the degree of +moral certainty that the individual is dead by criminal +intervention, or even lead by direct inference to this result; and +that, where the fact of death is not certainly ascertained, all +inculpatory circumstantial evidence wants the key necessary for its +satisfactory interpretation, and cannot be depended on to furnish +more than probable results. It may be, also, that such a rule has +some reference to the dangerous possibility that a general +preconception of guilt, or a general excitement of popular feeling, +may creep in to supply the place of evidence, if, upon other than +direct proof of death or a cause of death, a jury are permitted to +pronounce a prisoner guilty. + +“In this case the body has not been found and there is no direct +proof of criminal agency on the part of the prisoner, although the +chain of circumstantial evidence is complete and irresistible in +the highest degree. Nevertheless, it is all circumstantial +evidence, and under the laws of New York the prisoner cannot be +punished. I have no right of discretion. The law does not permit +a conviction in this case, although every one of us may be morally +certain of the prisoner’s guilt. I am, therefore, gentlemen of the +jury, compelled to direct you to find the prisoner not guilty.” + +“Judge,” interrupted the foreman, jumping up in the box, “we cannot +find that verdict under our oath; we know that this man is guilty.” + +“Sir,” said the judge, “this is a matter of law in which the wishes +of the jury cannot be considered. The clerk will write a verdict +of not guilty, which you, as foreman, will sign.” + +The spectators broke out into a threatening murmur that began to +grow and gather volume. The judge rapped on his desk and ordered +the bailiffs promptly to suppress any demonstration on the part of +the audience. Then he directed the foreman to sign the verdict +prepared by the clerk. When this was done he turned to Victor +Ancona; his face was hard and there was a cold glitter in his eyes. + +“Prisoner at the bar,” he said, “you have been put to trial before +this tribunal on a charge of cold-blooded and atrocious murder. +The evidence produced against you was of such powerful and +overwhelming character that it seems to have left no doubt in the +minds of the jury, nor indeed in the mind of any person present in +this court room. + +“Had the question of your guilt been submitted to these twelve +arbiters, a conviction would certainly have resulted and the death +penalty would have been imposed. But the law, rigid, passionless, +even-eyed, has thrust in between you and the wrath of your fellows +and saved you from it. I do not cry out against the impotency of +the law; it is perhaps as wise as imperfect humanity could make it. +I deplore, rather, the genius of evil men who, by cunning design, +are enabled to slip through the fingers of this law. I have no +word of censure or admonition for you, Victor Ancona. The law of +New York compels me to acquit you. I am only its mouthpiece, with +my individual wishes throttled. I speak only those things which +the law directs I shall speak. + +“You are now at liberty to leave this court room, not guiltless of +the crime of murder, perhaps, but at least rid of its punishment. +The eyes of men may see Cain’s mark on your brow, but the eyes of +the Law are blind to it.” + +When the audience fully realized what the judge had said they were +amazed and silent. They knew as well as men could know, that +Victor Ancona was guilty of murder, and yet he was now going out of +the court room free. Could it happen that the law protected only +against the blundering rogue? They had heard always of the boasted +completeness of the law which magistrates from time immemorial had +labored to perfect, and now when the skillful villain sought to +evade it, they saw how weak a thing it was. + + +V + + +The wedding march of Lohengrin floated out from the Episcopal +Church of St. Mark, clear and sweet, and perhaps heavy with its +paradox of warning. The theater of this coming contract before +high heaven was a wilderness of roses worth the taxes of a county. +The high caste of Manhattan, by the grace of the check book, were +present, clothed in Parisian purple and fine linen, cunningly and +marvelously wrought. + +Over in her private pew, ablaze with jewels, and decked with +fabrics from the deft hand of many a weaver, sat Mrs. Miriam +Steuvisant as imperious and self-complacent as a queen. To her it +was all a kind of triumphal procession, proclaiming her ability as +a general. With her were a choice few of the genus homo, which +obtains at the five-o’clock teas, instituted, say the sages, for +the purpose of sprinkling the holy water of Lethe. + +“Czarina,” whispered Reggie Du Puyster, leaning forward, “I salute +you. The ceremony sub jugum is superb.” + +“Walcott is an excellent fellow,” answered Mrs. Steuvisant; “not a +vice, you know, Reggie.” + +“Aye, Empress,” put in the others, “a purist taken in the net. The +clean-skirted one has come to the altar. Vive la vertu!” + +Samuel Walcott, still sunburned from his cruise, stood before the +chancel with the only daughter of the blue blooded St. Clairs. His +face was clear and honest and his voice firm. This was life and +not romance. The lid of the sepulcher had closed and he had +slipped from under it. And now, and ever after, the hand red with +murder was clean as any. + +The minister raised his voice, proclaiming the holy union before +God, and this twain, half pure, half foul, now by divine ordinance +one flesh, bowed down before it. No blood cried from the ground. +The sunlight of high noon streamed down through the window panes +like a benediction. + +Back in the pew of Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant, Reggie Du Puyster turned +down his thumb. “Habet!” he said. + + +From “The Strange Schemes of Randolph Mason,” by Melville Davisson +Post. Copyright, 1896, by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. + + + + +Ambrose Bierce + + + + +An Heiress from Redhorse + + +CORONADO, June 20th. + +I find myself more and more interested in him. It is not, I am +sure, his—do you know any noun corresponding to the adjective +“handsome”? One does not like to say “beauty” when speaking of a +man. He is handsome enough, heaven knows; I should not even care +to trust you with him—faithful of all possible wives that you are— +when he looks his best, as he always does. Nor do I think the +fascination of his manner has much to do with it. You recollect +that the charm of art inheres in that which is undefinable, and to +you and me, my dear Irene, I fancy there is rather less of that in +the branch of art under consideration than to girls in their first +season. I fancy I know how my fine gentleman produces many of his +effects, and could, perhaps, give him a pointer on heightening +them. Nevertheless, his manner is something truly delightful. I +suppose what interests me chiefly is the man’s brains. His +conversation is the best I have ever heard, and altogether unlike +anyone’s else. He seems to know everything, as, indeed, he ought, +for he has been everywhere, read everything, seen all there is to +see—sometimes I think rather more than is good for him—and had +acquaintance with the QUEEREST people. And then his voice—Irene, +when I hear it I actually feel as if I ought to have PAID AT THE +DOOR, though, of course, it is my own door. + + +July 3d. + +I fear my remarks about Dr. Barritz must have been, being +thoughtless, very silly, or you would not have written of him with +such levity, not to say disrespect. Believe me, dearest, he has +more dignity and seriousness (of the kind, I mean, which is not +inconsistent with a manner sometimes playful and always charming) +than any of the men that you and I ever met. And young Raynor—you +knew Raynor at Monterey—tells me that the men all like him, and +that he is treated with something like deference everywhere. There +is a mystery, too—something about his connection with the +Blavatsky people in Northern India. Raynor either would not or +could not tell me the particulars. I infer that Dr. Barritz is +thought—don’t you dare to laugh at me—a magician! Could anything +be finer than that? An ordinary mystery is not, of course, as good +as a scandal, but when it relates to dark and dreadful practices— +to the exercise of unearthly powers—could anything be more +piquant? It explains, too, the singular influence the man has upon +me. It is the undefinable in his art—black art. Seriously, dear, +I quite tremble when he looks me full in the eyes with those +unfathomable orbs of his, which I have already vainly attempted to +describe to you. How dreadful if we have the power to make one +fall in love! Do you know if the Blavatsky crowd have that power— +outside of Sepoy? + + +July 1 + +The strangest thing! Last evening while Auntie was attending one +of the hotel hops (I hate them) Dr. Barritz called. It was +scandalously late—I actually believe he had talked with Auntie in +the ballroom, and learned from her that I was alone. I had been +all the evening contriving how to worm out of him the truth about +his connection with the Thugs in Sepoy, and all of that black +business, but the moment he fixed his eyes on me (for I admitted +him, I’m ashamed to say) I was helpless, I trembled, I blushed, I— +O Irene, Irene, I love the man beyond expression, and you know how +it is yourself! + +Fancy! I, an ugly duckling from Redhorse—daughter (they say) of +old Calamity Jim—certainly his heiress, with no living relation +but an absurd old aunt, who spoils me a thousand and fifty ways— +absolutely destitute of everything but a million dollars and a hope +in Paris—I daring to love a god like him! My dear, if I had you +here, I could tear your hair out with mortification. + +I am convinced that he is aware of my feeling, for he stayed but a +few moments, said nothing but what another man might have said half +as well, and pretending that he had an engagement went away. I +learned to-day (a little bird told me—the bell bird) that he went +straight to bed. How does that strike you as evidence of exemplary +habits? + + +July 17th. + +That little wretch, Raynor, called yesterday, and his babble set me +almost wild. He never runs down—that is to say, when he +exterminates a score of reputations, more or less, he does not +pause between one reputation and the next. (By the way, he +inquired about you, and his manifestations of interest in you had, +I confess, a good deal of vraisemblance.) + +Mr. Raynor observes no game laws; like Death (which he would +inflict if slander were fatal) he has all seasons for his own. But +I like him, for we knew one another at Redhorse when we were young +and true-hearted and barefooted. He was known in those far fair +days as “Giggles,” and I—O Irene, can you ever forgive me?—I was +called “Gunny.” God knows why; perhaps in allusion to the material +of my pinafores; perhaps because the name is in alliteration with +“Giggles,” for Gig and I were inseparable playmates, and the miners +may have thought it a delicate compliment to recognize some kind of +relationship between us. + +Later, we took in a third—another of Adversity’s brood, who, like +Garrick between Tragedy and Comedy, had a chronic inability to +adjudicate the rival claims (to himself) of Frost and Famine. +Between him and the grave there was seldom anything more than a +single suspender and the hope of a meal which would at the same +time support life and make it insupportable. He literally picked +up a precarious living for himself and an aged mother by +“chloriding the dumps,” that is to say, the miners permitted him to +search the heaps of waste rock for such pieces of “pay ore” as had +been overlooked; and these he sacked up and sold at the Syndicate +Mill. He became a member of our firm—“Gunny, Giggles, and Dumps,” +thenceforth—through my favor; for I could not then, nor can I now, +be indifferent to his courage and prowess in defending against +Giggles the immemorial right of his sex to insult a strange and +unprotected female—myself. After old Jim struck it in the +Calamity, and I began to wear shoes and go to school, and in +emulation Giggles took to washing his face, and became Jack Raynor, +of Wells, Fargo & Co., and old Mrs. Barts was herself chlorided to +her fathers, Dumps drifted over to San Juan Smith and turned stage +driver, and was killed by road agents, and so forth. + +Why do I tell you all this, dear? Because it is heavy on my heart. +Because I walk the Valley of Humility. Because I am subduing +myself to permanent consciousness of my unworthiness to unloose the +latchet of Dr. Barritz’s shoe. Because-oh, dear, oh, dear—there’s +a cousin of Dumps at this hotel! I haven’t spoken to him. I never +had any acquaintance with him, but—do you suppose he has +recognized me? Do, please, give me in your next your candid, sure- +enough opinion about it, and say you don’t think so. Do you think +He knows about me already and that is why He left me last evening +when He saw that I blushed and trembled like a fool under His eyes? +You know I can’t bribe ALL the newspapers, and I can’t go back on +anybody who was good to Gunny at Redhorse—not if I’m pitched out +of society into the sea. So the skeleton sometimes rattles behind +the door. I never cared much before, as you know, but now—NOW it +is not the same. Jack Raynor I am sure of—he will not tell him. +He seems, indeed, to hold him in such respect as hardly to dare +speak to him at all, and I’m a good deal that way myself. Dear, +dear! I wish I had something besides a million dollars! If Jack +were three inches taller I’d marry him alive and go back to +Redhorse and wear sackcloth again to the end of my miserable days. + + +July 25th. + +We had a perfectly splendid sunset last evening, and I must tell +you all about it. I ran away from Auntie and everybody, and was +walking alone on the beach. I expect you to believe, you infidel! +that I had not looked out of my window on the seaward side of the +hotel and seen him walking alone on the beach. If you are not lost +to every feeling of womanly delicacy you will accept my statement +without question. I soon established myself under my sunshade and +had for some time been gazing out dreamily over the sea, when he +approached, walking close to the edge of the water—it was ebb +tide. I assure you the wet sand actually brightened about his +feet! As he approached me, he lifted his hat, saying: “Miss +Dement, may I sit with you?—or will you walk with me?” + +The possibility that neither might be agreeable seems not to have +occurred to him. Did you ever know such assurance? Assurance? My +dear, it was gall, downright GALL! Well, I didn’t find it +wormwood, and replied, with my untutored Redhorse heart in my +throat: “I—I shall be pleased to do ANYTHING.” Could words have +been more stupid? There are depths of fatuity in me, friend o’ my +soul, which are simply bottomless! + +He extended his hand, smiling, and I delivered mine into it without +a moment’s hesitation, and when his fingers closed about it to +assist me to my feet, the consciousness that it trembled made me +blush worse than the red west. I got up, however, and after a +while, observing that he had not let go my hand, I pulled on it a +little, but unsuccessfully. He simply held on, saying nothing, but +looking down into my face with some kind of a smile—I didn’t know— +how could I?—whether it was affectionate, derisive, or what, for +I did not look at him. How beautiful he was!—with the red fires +of the sunset burning in the depths of his eyes. Do you know, +dear, if the Thugs and Experts of the Blavatsky region have any +special kind of eyes? Ah, you should have seen his superb +attitude, the godlike inclination of his head as he stood over me +after I had got upon my feet! It was a noble picture, but I soon +destroyed it, for I began at once to sink again to the earth. +There was only one thing for him to do, and he did it; he supported +me with an arm about my waist. + +“Miss Dement, are you ill?” he said. + +It was not an exclamation; there was neither alarm nor solicitude +in it. If he had added: “I suppose that is about what I am +expected to say,” he would hardly have expressed his sense of the +situation more clearly. His manner filled me with shame and +indignation, for I was suffering acutely. I wrenched my hand out +of his, grasped the arm supporting me, and, pushing myself free, +fell plump into the sand and sat helpless. My hat had fallen off +in the struggle, and my hair tumbled about my face and shoulders in +the most mortifying way. + +“Go away from me,” I cried, half choking. “Oh, PLEASE go away, +you—you Thug! How dare you think THAT when my leg is asleep?” + +I actually said those identical words! And then I broke down and +sobbed. Irene, I BLUBBERED! + +“His manner altered in an instant—I could see that much through my +fingers and hair. He dropped on one knee beside me, parted the +tangle of hair, and said, in the tenderest way: My poor girl, God +knows I have not intended to pain you. How should I?—I who love +you—I who have loved you for—for years and years!” + +He had pulled my wet hands away from my face and was covering them +with kisses. My cheeks were like two coals, my whole face was +flaming and, I think, steaming. What could I do? I hid it on his +shoulder—there was no other place. And, oh, my dear friend, how +my leg tingled and thrilled, and how I wanted to kick! + +We sat so for a long time. He had released one of my hands to pass +his arm about me again, and I possessed myself of my handkerchief +and was drying my eyes and my nose. I would not look up until that +was done; he tried in vain to push me a little away and gaze into +my eyes. Presently, when it was all right, and it had grown a bit +dark, I lifted my head, looked him straight in the eyes, and smiled +my best—my level best, dear. + +“What do you mean,” I said, “by ‘years and years’?” + +“Dearest,” he replied, very gravely, very earnestly, “in the +absence of the sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, the lank hair, the +slouching gait, the rags, dirt, and youth, can you not—will you +not understand? Gunny, I’m Dumps!” + +In a moment I was upon my feet and he upon his. I seized him by +the lapels of his coat and peered into his handsome face in the +deepening darkness. I was breathless with excitement. + +“And you are not dead?” I asked, hardly knowing what I said. + +“Only dead in love, dear. I recovered from the road agent’s +bullet, but this, I fear, is fatal.” + +“But about Jack—Mr. Raynor? Don’t you know—” + +“I am ashamed to say, darling, that it was through that unworthy +person’s invitation that I came here from Vienna.” + +Irene, they have played it upon your affectionate friend, + +MARY JANE DEMENT. + + +P.S.—The worst of it is that there is no mystery. That was an +invention of Jack to arouse my curiosity and interest. James is +not a Thug. He solemnly assures me that in all his wanderings he +has never set foot in Sepoy. + + + + +The Man and the Snake + + +I + + +It is of veritabyll report, and attested of so many that there be +nowe of wyse and learned none to gaynsaye it, that ye serpente hys +eye hath a magnetick propertie that whosoe falleth into its svasion +is drawn forwards in despyte of his wille, and perisheth miserabyll +by ye creature hys byte. + + +Stretched at ease upon a sofa, in gown and slippers, Harker Brayton +smiled as he read the foregoing sentence in old Morryster’s +“Marvells of Science.” “The only marvel in the matter,” he said to +himself, “is that the wise and learned in Morryster’s day should +have believed such nonsense as is rejected by most of even the +ignorant in ours.” + +A train of reflections followed—for Brayton was a man of thought— +and he unconsciously lowered his book without altering the +direction of his eyes. As soon as the volume had gone below the +line of sight, something in an obscure corner of the room recalled +his attention to his surroundings. What he saw, in the shadow +under his bed, were two small points of light, apparently about an +inch apart. They might have been reflections of the gas jet above +him, in metal nail heads; he gave them but little thought and +resumed his reading. A moment later something—some impulse which +it did not occur to him to analyze—impelled him to lower the book +again and seek for what he saw before. The points of light were +still there. They seemed to have become brighter than before, +shining with a greenish luster which he had not at first observed. +He thought, too, that they might have moved a trifle—were somewhat +nearer. They were still too much in the shadow, however, to reveal +their nature and origin to an indolent attention, and he resumed +his reading. Suddenly something in the text suggested a thought +which made him start and drop the book for the third time to the +side of the sofa, whence, escaping from his hand, it fell sprawling +to the floor, back upward. Brayton, half-risen, was staring +intently into the obscurity beneath the bed, where the points of +light shone with, it seemed to him, an added fire. His attention +was now fully aroused, his gaze eager and imperative. It +disclosed, almost directly beneath the foot rail of the bed, the +coils of a large serpent—the points of light were its eyes! Its +horrible head, thrust flatly forth from the innermost coil and +resting upon the outermost, was directed straight toward him, the +definition of the wide, brutal jaw and the idiotlike forehead +serving to show the direction of its malevolent gaze. The eyes +were no longer merely luminous points; they looked into his own +with a meaning, a malign significance. + + +II + + +A snake in a bedroom of a modern city dwelling of the better sort +is, happily, not so common a phenomenon as to make explanation +altogether needless. Harker Brayton, a bachelor of thirty-five, a +scholar, idler, and something of an athlete, rich, popular, and of +sound health, had returned to San Francisco from all manner of +remote and unfamiliar countries. His tastes, always a trifle +luxurious, had taken on an added exuberance from long privation; +and the resources of even the Castle Hotel being inadequate for +their perfect gratification, he had gladly accepted the hospitality +of his friend, Dr. Druring, the distinguished scientist. Dr. +Druring’s house, a large, old-fashioned one in what was now an +obscure quarter of the city, had an outer and visible aspect of +reserve. It plainly would not associate with the contiguous +elements of its altered environment, and appeared to have developed +some of the eccentricities which come of isolation. One of these +was a “wing,” conspicuously irrelevant in point of architecture, +and no less rebellious in the matter of purpose; for it was a +combination of laboratory, menagerie, and museum. It was here that +the doctor indulged the scientific side of his nature in the study +of such forms of animal life as engaged his interest and comforted +his taste—which, it must be confessed, ran rather to the lower +forms. For one of the higher types nimbly and sweetly to recommend +itself unto his gentle senses, it had at least to retain certain +rudimentary characteristics allying it to such “dragons of the +prime” as toads and snakes. His scientific sympathies were +distinctly reptilian; he loved nature’s vulgarians and described +himself as the Zola of zoology. His wife and daughters, not having +the advantage to share his enlightened curiosity regarding the +works and ways of our ill-starred fellow-creatures, were, with +needless austerity, excluded from what he called the Snakery, and +doomed to companionship with their own kind; though, to soften the +rigors of their lot, he had permitted them, out of his great +wealth, to outdo the reptiles in the gorgeousness of their +surroundings and to shine with a superior splendor. + +Architecturally, and in point of “furnishing,” the Snakery had a +severe simplicity befitting the humble circumstances of its +occupants, many of whom, indeed, could not safely have been +intrusted with the liberty which is necessary to the full enjoyment +of luxury, for they had the troublesome peculiarity of being alive. +In their own apartments, however, they were under as little +personal restraint as was compatible with their protection from the +baneful habit of swallowing one another; and, as Brayton had +thoughtfully been apprised, it was more than a tradition that some +of them had at divers times been found in parts of the premises +where it would have embarrassed them to explain their presence. +Despite the Snakery and its uncanny associations—to which, indeed, +he gave little attention—Brayton found life at the Druring mansion +very much to his mind. + + +III + + +Beyond a smart shock of surprise and a shudder of mere loathing, +Mr. Brayton was not greatly affected. His first thought was to +ring the call bell and bring a servant; but, although the bell cord +dangled within easy reach, he made no movement toward it; it had +occurred to his mind that the act might subject him to the +suspicion of fear, which he certainly did not feel. He was more +keenly conscious of the incongruous nature of the situation than +affected by its perils; it was revolting, but absurd. + +The reptile was of a species with which Brayton was unfamiliar. +Its length he could only conjecture; the body at the largest +visible part seemed about as thick as his forearm. In what way was +it dangerous, if in any way? Was it venomous? Was it a +constrictor? His knowledge of nature’s danger signals did not +enable him to say; he had never deciphered the code. + +If not dangerous, the creature was at least offensive. It was de +trop—“matter out of place”—an impertinence. The gem was unworthy +of the setting. Even the barbarous taste of our time and country, +which had loaded the walls of the room with pictures, the floor +with furniture, and the furniture with bric-a-brac, had not quite +fitted the place for this bit of the savage life of the jungle. +Besides—insupportable thought!—the exhalations of its breath +mingled with the atmosphere which he himself was breathing! + +These thoughts shaped themselves with greater or less definition in +Brayton’s mind, and begot action. The process is what we call +consideration and decision. It is thus that we are wise and +unwise. It is thus that the withered leaf in an autumn breeze +shows greater or less intelligence than its fellows, falling upon +the land or upon the lake. The secret of human action is an open +one—something contracts our muscles. Does it matter if we give to +the preparatory molecular changes the name of will? + +Brayton rose to his feet and prepared to back softly away from the +snake, without disturbing it, if possible, and through the door. +People retire so from the presence of the great, for greatness is +power, and power is a menace. He knew that he could walk backward +without obstruction, and find the door without error. Should the +monster follow, the taste which had plastered the walls with +paintings had consistently supplied a rack of murderous Oriental +weapons from which he could snatch one to suit the occasion. In +the meantime the snake’s eyes burned with a more pitiless +malevolence than ever. + +Brayton lifted his right foot free of the floor to step backward. +That moment he felt a strong aversion to doing so. + +“I am accounted brave,” he murmured; “is bravery, then, no more +than pride? Because there are none to witness the shame shall I +retreat?” + +He was steadying himself with his right hand upon the back of a +chair, his foot suspended. + +“Nonsense!” he said aloud; “I am not so great a coward as to fear +to seem to myself afraid.” + +He lifted the foot a little higher by slightly bending the knee, +and thrust it sharply to the floor—an inch in front of the other! +He could not think how that occurred. A trial with the left foot +had the same result; it was again in advance of the right. The +hand upon the chair back was grasping it; the arm was straight, +reaching somewhat backward. One might have seen that he was +reluctant to lose his hold. The snake’s malignant head was still +thrust forth from the inner coil as before, the neck level. It had +not moved, but its eyes were now electric sparks, radiating an +infinity of luminous needles. + +The man had an ashy pallor. Again he took a step forward, and +another, partly dragging the chair, which, when finally released, +fell upon the floor with a crash. The man groaned; the snake made +neither sound nor motion, but its eyes were two dazzling suns. The +reptile itself was wholly concealed by them. They gave off +enlarging rings of rich and vivid colors, which at their greatest +expansion successively vanished like soap bubbles; they seemed to +approach his very face, and anon were an immeasurable distance +away. He heard, somewhere, the continual throbbing of a great +drum, with desultory bursts of far music, inconceivably sweet, like +the tones of an aeolian harp. He knew it for the sunrise melody of +Memnon’s statue, and thought he stood in the Nileside reeds, +hearing, with exalted sense, that immortal anthem through the +silence of the centuries. + +The music ceased; rather, it became by insensible degrees the +distant roll of a retreating thunderstorm. A landscape, glittering +with sun and rain, stretched before him, arched with a vivid +rainbow, framing in its giant curve a hundred visible cities. In +the middle distance a vast serpent, wearing a crown, reared its +head out of its voluminous convolutions and looked at him with his +dead mother’s eyes. Suddenly this enchanting landscape seemed to +rise swiftly upward, like the drop scene at a theater, and vanished +in a blank. Something struck him a hard blow upon the face and +breast. He had fallen to the floor; the blood ran from his broken +nose and his bruised lips. For a moment he was dazed and stunned, +and lay with closed eyes, his face against the door. In a few +moments he had recovered, and then realized that his fall, by +withdrawing his eyes, had broken the spell which held him. He felt +that now, by keeping his gaze averted, he would be able to retreat. +But the thought of the serpent within a few feet of his head, yet +unseen—perhaps in the very act of springing upon him and throwing +its coils about his throat—was too horrible. He lifted his head, +stared again into those baleful eyes, and was again in bondage. + +The snake had not moved, and appeared somewhat to have lost its +power upon the imagination; the gorgeous illusions of a few moments +before were not repeated. Beneath that flat and brainless brow its +black, beady eyes simply glittered, as at first, with an expression +unspeakably malignant. It was as if the creature, knowing its +triumph assured, had determined to practice no more alluring wiles. + +Now ensued a fearful scene. The man, prone upon the floor, within +a yard of his enemy, raised the upper part of his body upon his +elbows, his head thrown back, his legs extended to their full +length. His face was white between its gouts of blood; his eyes +were strained open to their uttermost expansion. There was froth +upon his lips; it dropped off in flakes. Strong convulsions ran +through his body, making almost serpentine undulations. He bent +himself at the waist, shifting his legs from side to side. And +every movement left him a little nearer to the snake. He thrust +his hands forward to brace himself back, yet constantly advanced +upon his elbows. + + +IV + + +Dr. Druring and his wife sat in the library. The scientist was in +rare good humor. + +“I have just obtained, by exchange with another collector,” he +said, “a splendid specimen of the Ophiophagus.” + +“And what may that be?” the lady inquired with a somewhat languid +interest. + +“Why, bless my soul, what profound ignorance! My dear, a man who +ascertains after marriage that his wife does not know Greek, is +entitled to a divorce. The Ophiophagus is a snake which eats other +snakes.” + +“I hope it will eat all yours,” she said, absently shifting the +lamp. “But how does it get the other snakes? By charming them, I +suppose.” + +“That is just like you, dear,” said the doctor, with an affectation +of petulance. “You know how irritating to me is any allusion to +that vulgar superstition about the snake’s power of fascination.” + +The conversation was interrupted by a mighty cry which rang through +the silent house like the voice of a demon shouting in a tomb. +Again and yet again it sounded, with terrible distinctness. They +sprang to their feet, the man confused, the lady pale and +speechless with fright. Almost before the echoes of the last cry +had died away the doctor was out of the room, springing up the +staircase two steps at a time. In the corridor, in front of +Brayton’s chamber, he met some servants who had come from the upper +floor. Together they rushed at the door without knocking. It was +unfastened, and gave way. Brayton lay upon his stomach on the +floor, dead. His head and arms were partly concealed under the +foot rail of the bed. They pulled the body away, turning it upon +the back. The face was daubed with blood and froth, the eyes were +wide open, staring—a dreadful sight! + +“Died in a fit,” said the scientist, bending his knee and placing +his hand upon the heart. While in that position he happened to +glance under the bed. “Good God!” he added; “how did this thing +get in here?” + +He reached under the bed, pulled out the snake, and flung it, still +coiled, to the center of the room, whence, with a harsh, shuffling +sound, it slid across the polished floor till stopped by the wall, +where it lay without motion. It was a stuffed snake; its eyes were +two shoe buttons. + + +From “Tales of Soldiers and Civilians,” by Ambrose Bierce. +Copyright, 1891, by E. L. G. Steele. + + + + +Edgar Allan Poe + + + + +The Oblong Box + + +Some years ago, I engaged passage from Charleston, S. C, to the +city of New York, in the fine packet-ship “Independence,” Captain +Hardy. We were to sail on the fifteenth of the month (June), +weather permitting; and on the fourteenth, I went on board to +arrange some matters in my stateroom. + +I found that we were to have a great many passengers, including a +more than usual number of ladies. On the list were several of my +acquaintances, and among other names, I was rejoiced to see that of +Mr. Cornelius Wyatt, a young artist, for whom I entertained +feelings of warm friendship. He had been with me a fellow-student +at C—— University, where we were very much together. He had the +ordinary temperament of genius, and was a compound of misanthropy, +sensibility, and enthusiasm. To these qualities he united the +warmest and truest heart which ever beat in a human bosom. + +I observed that his name was carded upon THREE state-rooms; and, +upon again referring to the list of passengers, I found that he had +engaged passage for himself, wife, and two sisters—his own. The +state-rooms were sufficiently roomy, and each had two berths, one +above the other. These berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly +narrow as to be insufficient for more than one person; still, I +could not comprehend why there were THREE staterooms for these four +persons. I was, just at that epoch, in one of those moody frames +of mind which make a man abnormally inquisitive about trifles: and +I confess, with shame, that I busied myself in a variety of ill- +bred and preposterous conjectures about this matter of the +supernumerary stateroom. It was no business of mine, to be sure, +but with none the less pertinacity did I occupy myself in attempts +to resolve the enigma. At last I reached a conclusion which +wrought in me great wonder why I had not arrived at it before. “It +is a servant of course,” I said; “what a fool I am, not sooner to +have thought of so obvious a solution!” And then I again repaired +to the list—but here I saw distinctly that NO servant was to come +with the party, although, in fact, it had been the original design +to bring one—for the words “and servant” had been first written +and then over-scored. “Oh, extra baggage, to be sure,” I now said +to myself—“something he wishes not to be put in the hold— +something to be kept under his own eye—ah, I have it—a painting +or so—and this is what he has been bargaining about with Nicolino, +the Italian Jew.” This idea satisfied me, and I dismissed my +curiosity for the nonce. + +Wyatt’s two sisters I knew very well, and most amiable and clever +girls they were. His wife he had newly married, and I had never +yet seen her. He had often talked about her in my presence, +however, and in his usual style of enthusiasm. He described her as +of surpassing beauty, wit, and accomplishment. I was, therefore, +quite anxious to make her acquaintance. + +On the day in which I visited the ship (the fourteenth), Wyatt and +party were also to visit it—so the captain informed me—and I +waited on board an hour longer than I had designed, in hope of +being presented to the bride, but then an apology came. “Mrs. W. +was a little indisposed, and would decline coming on board until +to-morrow, at the hour of sailing.” + +The morrow having arrived, I was going from my hotel to the wharf, +when Captain Hardy met me and said that, “owing to circumstances” +(a stupid but convenient phrase), “he rather thought the +‘Independence’ would not sail for a day or two, and that when all +was ready, he would send up and let me know.” This I thought +strange, for there was a stiff southerly breeze; but as “the +circumstances” were not forthcoming, although I pumped for them +with much perseverance, I had nothing to do but to return home and +digest my impatience at leisure. + +I did not receive the expected message from the captain for nearly +a week. It came at length, however, and I immediately went on +board. The ship was crowded with passengers, and every thing was +in the bustle attendant upon making sail. Wyatt’s party arrived in +about ten minutes after myself. There were the two sisters, the +bride, and the artist—the latter in one of his customary fits of +moody misanthropy. I was too well used to these, however, to pay +them any special attention. He did not even introduce me to his +wife;—this courtesy devolving, per force, upon his sister Marian— +a very sweet and intelligent girl, who, in a few hurried words, +made us acquainted. + +Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled; and when she raised her veil, +in acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very profoundly +astonished. I should have been much more so, however, had not long +experience advised me not to trust, with too implicit a reliance, +the enthusiastic descriptions of my friend, the artist, when +indulging in comments upon the loveliness of woman. When beauty +was the theme, I well knew with what facility he soared into the +regions of the purely ideal. + +The truth is, I could not help regarding Mrs. Wyatt as a decidedly +plain-looking woman. If not positively ugly, she was not, I think, +very far from it. She was dressed, however, in exquisite taste— +and then I had no doubt that she had captivated my friend’s heart +by the more enduring graces of the intellect and soul. She said +very few words, and passed at once into her state-room with Mr. W. + +My old inquisitiveness now returned. There was NO servant—THAT +was a settled point. I looked, therefore, for the extra baggage. +After some delay, a cart arrived at the wharf, with an oblong pine +box, which was every thing that seemed to be expected. Immediately +upon its arrival we made sail, and in a short time were safely over +the bar and standing out to sea. + +The box in question was, as I say, oblong. It was about six feet +in length by two and a half in breadth; I observed it attentively, +and like to be precise. Now this shape was PECULIAR; and no sooner +had I seen it, than I took credit to myself for the accuracy of my +guessing. I had reached the conclusion, it will be remembered, +that the extra baggage of my friend, the artist, would prove to be +pictures, or at least a picture; for I knew he had been for several +weeks in conference with Nicolino:—and now here was a box, which, +from its shape, COULD possibly contain nothing in the world but a +copy of Leonardo’s “Last Supper;” and a copy of this very “Last +Supper,” done by Rubini the younger, at Florence, I had known, for +some time, to be in the possession of Nicolino. This point, +therefore, I considered as sufficiently settled. I chuckled +excessively when I thought of my acumen. It was the first time I +had ever known Wyatt to keep from me any of his artistical secrets; +but here he evidently intended to steal a march upon me, and +smuggle a fine picture to New York, under my very nose; expecting +me to know nothing of the matter. I resolved to quiz him WELL, now +and hereafter. + +One thing, however, annoyed me not a little. The box did NOT go +into the extra stateroom. It was deposited in Wyatt’s own; and +there, too, it remained, occupying very nearly the whole of the +floor—no doubt to the exceeding discomfort of the artist and his +wife;—this the more especially as the tar or paint with which it +was lettered in sprawling capitals, emitted a strong, disagreeable, +and, to my fancy, a peculiarly disgusting odor. On the lid were +painted the words—“Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, Albany, New York. Charge +of Cornelius Wyatt, Esq. This side up. To be handled with care.” + +Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of Albany, was the +artist’s wife’s mother,—but then I looked upon the whole address +as a mystification, intended especially for myself. I made up my +mind, of course, that the box and contents would never get farther +north than the studio of my misanthropic friend, in Chambers +Street, New York. + +For the first three or four days we had fine weather, although the +wind was dead ahead; having chopped round to the northward, +immediately upon our losing sight of the coast. The passengers +were, consequently, in high spirits and disposed to be social. I +MUST except, however, Wyatt and his sisters, who behaved stiffly, +and, I could not help thinking, uncourteously to the rest of the +party. Wyatt’s conduct I did not so much regard. He was gloomy, +even beyond his usual habit—in fact he was MOROSE—but in him I +was prepared for eccentricity. For the sisters, however, I could +make no excuse. They secluded themselves in their staterooms +during the greater part of the passage, and absolutely refused, +although I repeatedly urged them, to hold communication with any +person on board. + +Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable. That is to say, she was +CHATTY; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea. She +became EXCESSIVELY intimate with most of the ladies; and, to my +profound astonishment, evinced no equivocal disposition to coquet +with the men. She amused us all very much. I say “amused”—and +scarcely know how to explain myself. The truth is, I soon found +that Mrs. W. was far oftener laughed AT than WITH. The gentlemen +said little about her; but the ladies, in a little while, +pronounced her “a good-hearted thing, rather indifferent looking, +totally uneducated, and decidedly vulgar.” The great wonder was, +how Wyatt had been entrapped into such a match. Wealth was the +general solution—but this I knew to be no solution at all; for +Wyatt had told me that she neither brought him a dollar nor had any +expectations from any source whatever. “He had married,” he said, +“for love, and for love only; and his bride was far more than +worthy of his love.” When I thought of these expressions, on the +part of my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled. +Could it be possible that he was taking leave of his senses? What +else could I think? HE, so refined, so intellectual, so +fastidious, with so exquisite a perception of the faulty, and so +keen an appreciation of the beautiful! To be sure, the lady seemed +especially fond of HIM—particularly so in his absence—when she +made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of what had been +said by her “beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt.” The word “husband” +seemed forever—to use one of her own delicate expressions—forever +“on the tip of her tongue.” In the meantime, it was observed by +all on board, that he avoided HER in the most pointed manner, and, +for the most part, shut himself up alone in his state-room, where, +in fact, he might have been said to live altogether, leaving his +wife at full liberty to amuse herself as she thought best, in the +public society of the main cabin. + +My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, was, that, the artist, by +some unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in some fit of +enthusiastic and fanciful passion, had been induced to unite +himself with a person altogether beneath him, and that the natural +result, entire and speedy disgust, had ensued. I pitied him from +the bottom of my heart—but could not, for that reason, quite +forgive his incommunicativeness in the matter of the “Last Supper.” +For this I resolved to have my revenge. + +One day he came upon deck, and, taking his arm as had been my wont, +I sauntered with him backward and forward. His gloom, however +(which I considered quite natural under the circumstances), seemed +entirely unabated. He said little, and that moodily, and with +evident effort. I ventured a jest or two, and he made a sickening +attempt at a smile. Poor fellow!—as I thought of HIS WIFE, I +wondered that he could have heart to put on even the semblance of +mirth. At last I ventured a home thrust. I determined to commence +a series of covert insinuations, or innuendoes, about the oblong +box—just to let him perceive, gradually, that I was NOT altogether +the butt, or victim, of his little bit of pleasant mystification. +My first observation was by way of opening a masked battery. I +said something about the “peculiar shape of THAT box—,” and, as I +spoke the words, I smiled knowingly, winked, and touched him gently +with my forefinger in the ribs. + +The manner in which Wyatt received this harmless pleasantry +convinced me, at once, that he was mad. At first he stared at me +as if he found it impossible to comprehend the witticism of my +remark; but as its point seemed slowly to make its way into his +brain, his eyes, in the same proportion, seemed protruding from +their sockets. Then he grew very red—then hideously pale—then, +as if highly amused with what I had insinuated, he began a loud and +boisterous laugh, which, to my astonishment, he kept up, with +gradually increasing vigor, for ten minutes or more. In +conclusion, he fell flat and heavily upon the deck. When I ran to +uplift him, to all appearance he was DEAD. + +I called assistance, and, with much difficulty, we brought him to +himself. Upon reviving he spoke incoherently for some time. At +length we bled him and put him to bed. The next morning he was +quite recovered, so far as regarded his mere bodily health. Of his +mind I say nothing, of course. I avoided him during the rest of +the passage, by advice of the captain, who seemed to coincide with +me altogether in my views of his insanity, but cautioned me to say +nothing on this head to any person on board. + +Several circumstances occurred immediately after this fit of Wyatt +which contributed to heighten the curiosity with which I was +already possessed. Among other things, this: I had been nervous— +drank too much strong green tea, and slept ill at night—in fact, +for two nights I could not be properly said to sleep at all. Now, +my state-room opened into the main cabin, or dining-room, as did +those of all the single men on board. Wyatt’s three rooms were in +the after-cabin, which was separated from the main one by a slight +sliding door, never locked even at night. As we were almost +constantly on a wind, and the breeze was not a little stiff, the +ship heeled to leeward very considerably; and whenever her +starboard side was to leeward, the sliding door between the cabins +slid open, and so remained, nobody taking the trouble to get up and +shut it. But my berth was in such a position, that when my own +state-room door was open, as well as the sliding door in question +(and my own door was ALWAYS open on account of the heat,) I could +see into the after-cabin quite distinctly, and just at that portion +of it, too, where were situated the state-rooms of Mr. Wyatt. +Well, during two nights (NOT consecutive) while I lay awake, I +clearly saw Mrs. W., about eleven o’clock upon each night, steal +cautiously from the state-room of Mr. W., and enter the extra room, +where she remained until daybreak, when she was called by her +husband and went back. That they were virtually separated was +clear. They had separate apartments—no doubt in contemplation of +a more permanent divorce; and here, after all I thought was the +mystery of the extra stateroom. + +There was another circumstance, too, which interested me much. +During the two wakeful nights in question, and immediately after +the disappearance of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra stateroom, I was +attracted by certain singular cautious, subdued noises in that of +her husband. After listening to them for some time, with +thoughtful attention, I at length succeeded perfectly in +translating their import. They were sounds occasioned by the +artist in prying open the oblong box, by means of a chisel and +mallet—the latter being apparently muffled, or deadened, by some +soft woollen or cotton substance in which its head was enveloped. + +In this manner I fancied I could distinguish the precise moment +when he fairly disengaged the lid—also, that I could determine +when he removed it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the +lower berth in his room; this latter point I knew, for example, by +certain slight taps which the lid made in striking against the +wooden edges of the berth, as he endeavored to lay it down VERY +gently—there being no room for it on the floor. After this there +was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing more, upon either +occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I may mention a +low sobbing, or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be +nearly inaudible—if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise were +not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed to +RESEMBLE sobbing or sighing—but, of course, it could not have been +either. I rather think it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr. +Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely giving the rein to +one of his hobbies—indulging in one of his fits of artistic +enthusiasm. He had opened his oblong box, in order to feast his +eyes on the pictorial treasure within. There was nothing in this, +however, to make him SOB. I repeat, therefore, that it must have +been simply a freak of my own fancy, distempered by good Captain +Hardy’s green tea. Just before dawn, on each of the two nights of +which I speak, I distinctly heard Mr. Wyatt replace the lid upon +the oblong box, and force the nails into their old places by means +of the muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued from his state- +room, fully dressed, and proceeded to call Mrs. W. from hers. + +We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape Hatteras, when +there came a tremendously heavy blow from the southwest. We were, +in a measure, prepared for it, however, as the weather had been +holding out threats for some time. Every thing was made snug, alow +and aloft; and as the wind steadily freshened, we lay to, at +length, under spanker and foretopsail, both double-reefed. + +In this trim we rode safely enough for forty-eight hours—the ship +proving herself an excellent sea-boat in many respects, and +shipping no water of any consequence. At the end of this period, +however, the gale had freshened into a hurricane, and our after— +sail split into ribbons, bringing us so much in the trough of the +water that we shipped several prodigious seas, one immediately +after the other. By this accident we lost three men overboard with +the caboose, and nearly the whole of the larboard bulwarks. +Scarcely had we recovered our senses, before the foretopsail went +into shreds, when we got up a storm staysail and with this did +pretty well for some hours, the ship heading the sea much more +steadily than before. + +The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs of its +abating. The rigging was found to be ill-fitted, and greatly +strained; and on the third day of the blow, about five in the +afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in a heavy lurch to windward, went by +the board. For an hour or more, we tried in vain to get rid of it, +on account of the prodigious rolling of the ship; and, before we +had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and announced four feet of +water in the hold. To add to our dilemma, we found the pumps +choked and nearly useless. + +All was now confusion and despair—but an effort was made to +lighten the ship by throwing overboard as much of her cargo as +could be reached, and by cutting away the two masts that remained. +This we at last accomplished—but we were still unable to do any +thing at the pumps; and, in the meantime, the leak gained on us +very fast. + +At sundown, the gale had sensibly diminished in violence, and as +the sea went down with it, we still entertained faint hopes of +saving ourselves in the boats. At eight P. M., the clouds broke +away to windward, and we had the advantage of a full moon—a piece +of good fortune which served wonderfully to cheer our drooping +spirits. + +After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in getting the +longboat over the side without material accident, and into this we +crowded the whole of the crew and most of the passengers. This +party made off immediately, and, after undergoing much suffering, +finally arrived, in safety, at Ocracoke Inlet, on the third day +after the wreck. + +Fourteen passengers, with the captain, remained on board, resolving +to trust their fortunes to the jolly-boat at the stern. We lowered +it without difficulty, although it was only by a miracle that we +prevented it from swamping as it touched the water. It contained, +when afloat, the captain and his wife, Mr. Wyatt and party, a +Mexican officer, wife, four children, and myself, with a negro +valet. + +We had no room, of course, for any thing except a few positively +necessary instruments, some provisions, and the clothes upon our +backs. No one had thought of even attempting to save any thing +more. What must have been the astonishment of all, then, when +having proceeded a few fathoms from the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up in +the stern-sheets, and coolly demanded of Captain Hardy that the +boat should be put back for the purpose of taking in his oblong +box! + +“Sit down, Mr. Wyatt,” replied the captain, somewhat sternly, “you +will capsize us if you do not sit quite still. Our gunwhale is +almost in the water now.” + +“The box!” vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing—“the box, I say! +Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight will +be but a trifle—it is nothing—mere nothing. By the mother who +bore you—for the love of Heaven—by your hope of salvation, I +implore you to put back for the box!” + +The captain, for a moment, seemed touched by the earnest appeal of +the artist, but he regained his stern composure, and merely said: + +“Mr. Wyatt, you are mad. I cannot listen to you. Sit down, I say, +or you will swamp the boat. Stay—hold him—seize him!—he is +about to spring overboard! There—I knew it—he is over!” + +As the captain said this, Mr. Wyatt, in fact, sprang from the boat, +and, as we were yet in the lee of the wreck, succeeded, by almost +superhuman exertion, in getting hold of a rope which hung from the +fore-chains. In another moment he was on board, and rushing +frantically down into the cabin. + +In the meantime, we had been swept astern of the ship, and being +quite out of her lee, were at the mercy of the tremendous sea which +was still running. We made a determined effort to put back, but +our little boat was like a feather in the breath of the tempest. +We saw at a glance that the doom of the unfortunate artist was +sealed. + +As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the madman (for +as such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the +companion—way, up which by dint of strength that appeared +gigantic, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in +the extremity of astonishment, he passed, rapidly, several turns of +a three-inch rope, first around the box and then around his body. +In another instant both body and box were in the sea—disappearing +suddenly, at once and forever. + +We lingered awhile sadly upon our oars, with our eyes riveted upon +the spot. At length we pulled away. The silence remained unbroken +for an hour. Finally, I hazarded a remark. + +“Did you observe, captain, how suddenly they sank? Was not that an +exceedingly singular thing? I confess that I entertained some +feeble hope of his final deliverance, when I saw him lash himself +to the box, and commit himself to the sea.” + +“They sank as a matter of course,” replied the captain, “and that +like a shot. They will soon rise again, however—BUT NOT TILL THE +SALT MELTS.” + +“The salt!” I ejaculated. + +“Hush!” said the captain, pointing to the wife and sisters of the +deceased. “We must talk of these things at some more appropriate +time.” + + +We suffered much, and made a narrow escape, but fortune befriended +us, as well as our mates in the long-boat. We landed, in fine, +more dead than alive, after four days of intense distress, upon the +beach opposite Roanoke Island. We remained here a week, were not +ill-treated by the wreckers, and at length obtained a passage to +New York. + +About a month after the loss of the “Independence,” I happened to +meet Captain Hardy in Broadway. Our conversation turned, +naturally, upon the disaster, and especially upon the sad fate of +poor Wyatt. I thus learned the following particulars. + +The artist had engaged passage for himself, wife, two sisters and a +servant. His wife was, indeed, as she had been represented, a most +lovely, and most accomplished woman. On the morning of the +fourteenth of June (the day in which I first visited the ship), the +lady suddenly sickened and died. The young husband was frantic +with grief—but circumstances imperatively forbade the deferring +his voyage to New York. It was necessary to take to her mother the +corpse of his adored wife, and, on the other hand, the universal +prejudice which would prevent his doing so openly was well known. +Nine-tenths of the passengers would have abandoned the ship rather +than take passage with a dead body. + +In this dilemma, Captain Hardy arranged that the corpse, being +first partially embalmed, and packed, with a large quantity of +salt, in a box of suitable dimensions, should be conveyed on board +as merchandise. Nothing was to be said of the lady’s decease; and, +as it was well understood that Mr. Wyatt had engaged passage for +his wife, it became necessary that some person should personate her +during the voyage. This the deceased lady’s-maid was easily +prevailed on to do. The extra state-room, originally engaged for +this girl during her mistress’ life, was now merely retained. In +this state-room the pseudo-wife, slept, of course, every night. In +the daytime she performed, to the best of her ability, the part of +her mistress—whose person, it had been carefully ascertained, was +unknown to any of the passengers on board. + +My own mistake arose, naturally enough, through too careless, too +inquisitive, and too impulsive a temperament. But of late, it is a +rare thing that I sleep soundly at night. There is a countenance +which haunts me, turn as I will. There is an hysterical laugh +which will forever ring within my ears. + + + + +The Gold-Bug + +What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad! +He hath been bitten by the Tarantula. + —All in the Wrong. + + +Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William +Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been +wealthy: but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To +avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New +Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at +Sullivan’s Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. + +This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else +than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at +no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the +mainland by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a +wilderness of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh hen. +The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least +dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the +western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some +miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the +fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, the +bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this +western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the seacoast, is +covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle so much prized +by the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains +the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost +impenetrable coppice, burdening the air with its fragrance. + +In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or +more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small +hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his +acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship—for there was +much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him +well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with +misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm +and melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely employed +them. His chief amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering +along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of shells or +entomological specimens—his collection of the latter might have +been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually +accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had been +manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who could be +induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what he +considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young +“Massa Will.” It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand, +conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived +to instill this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the +supervision and guardianship of the wanderer. + +The winters in the latitude of Sullivan’s Island are seldom very +severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when +a fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18—, +there occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just +before sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut +of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks—my +residence being, at that time, in Charleston, a distance of nine +miles from the island, while the facilities of passage and +repassage were very far behind those of the present day. Upon +reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and getting no reply, +sought for the key where I knew it was secreted, unlocked the door, +and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the hearth. It was a +novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw off an +overcoat, took an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited +patiently the arrival of my hosts. + +Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome. +Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some +marsh hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits—how else +shall I term them?—of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown +bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted +down and secured, with Jupiter’s assistance, a scarabaeus which he +believed to be totally new, but in respect to which he wished to +have my opinion on the morrow. + +“And why not to-night?” I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, +and wishing the whole tribe of scarabaei at the devil. + +“Ah, if I had only known you were here!” said Legrand, “but it’s so +long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me +a visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met +Lieutenant G——, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him +the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the +morning. Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at +sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!” + +“What?—sunrise?” + +“Nonsense! no!—the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color—about +the size of a large hickory nut—with two jet black spots near one +extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. +The antennae are—” + +“Dey ain’t NO tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin’ on you,” +here interrupted Jupiter; “de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit +of him, inside and all, sep him wing—neber feel half so hebby a +bug in my life.” + +“Well, suppose it is, Jup,” replied Legrand, somewhat more +earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded; “is that any +reason for your letting the birds burn? The color”—here he turned +to me—“is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter’s idea. You +never saw a more brilliant metallic luster than the scales emit— +but of this you cannot judge till to-morrow. In the meantime I can +give you some idea of the shape.” Saying this, he seated himself +at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no paper. He +looked for some in a drawer, but found none. + +“Never mind,” he said at length, “this will answer;” and he drew +from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty +foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he +did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. +When the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising. +As I received it, a loud growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching +at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, +belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, and +loaded me with caresses; for I had shown him much attention during +previous visits. When his gambols were over, I looked at the +paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little puzzled +at what my friend had depicted. + +“Well!” I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, “this IS a +strange scarabaeus, I must confess; new to me; never saw anything +like it before—unless it was a skull, or a death’s head, which it +more nearly resembles than anything else that has come under MY +observation.” + +“A death’s head!” echoed Legrand. “Oh—yes—well, it has something +of that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots +look like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth— +and then the shape of the whole is oval.” + +“Perhaps so,” said I; “but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I +must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea +of its personal appearance.” + +“Well, I don’t know,” said he, a little nettled, “I draw tolerably— +SHOULD do it at least—have had good masters, and flatter myself +that I am not quite a blockhead.” + +“But, my dear fellow, you are joking then,” said I, “this is a very +passable SKULL—indeed, I may say that it is a very EXCELLENT +skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of +physiology—and your scarabaeus must be the queerest scarabaeus in +the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling +bit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the +bug Scarabaeus caput hominis, or something of that kind—there are +many similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the +antennae you spoke of?” + +“The antennae!” said Legrand, who seemed to be getting +unaccountably warm upon the subject; “I am sure you must see the +antennae. I made them as distinct as they are in the original +insect, and I presume that is sufficient.” + +“Well, well,” I said, “perhaps you have—still I don’t see them;” +and I handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing +to ruffle his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn affairs +had taken; his ill humor puzzled me—and, as for the drawing of the +beetle, there were positively NO antennae visible, and the whole +DID bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death’s +head. + +He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it, +apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the +design seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his +face grew violently red—in another excessively pale. For some +minutes he continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he +sat. At length he arose, took a candle from the table, and +proceeded to seat himself upon a sea chest in the farthest corner +of the room. Here again he made an anxious examination of the +paper, turning it in all directions. He said nothing, however, and +his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I thought it prudent not to +exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any comment. +Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the paper +carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing desk, which he +locked. He now grew more composed in his demeanor; but his +original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed +not so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore away he +became more and more absorbed in reverie, from which no sallies of +mine could arouse him. It had been my intention to pass the night +at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but, seeing my host in +this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press me +to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with even more than +his usual cordiality. + +It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seen +nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from +his man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so +dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my +friend. + +“Well, Jup,” said I, “what is the matter now?—how is your master?” + +“Why, to speak the troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought +be.” + +“Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain +of?” + +“Dar! dot’s it!—him neber ’plain of notin’—but him berry sick for +all dat.” + +“VERY sick, Jupiter!—why didn’t you say so at once? Is he +confined to bed?” + +“No, dat he aint!—he aint ’fin’d nowhar—dat’s just whar de shoe +pinch—my mind is got to be berry hebby ’bout poor Massa Will.” + +“Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking +about. You say your master is sick. Hasn’t he told you what ails +him?” + +“Why, massa, ’taint worf while for to git mad about de matter— +Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him—but den what +make him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he +soldiers up, and as white as a goose? And den he keep a syphon all +de time—” + +“Keeps a what, Jupiter?” + +“Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate—de queerest figgurs I +ebber did see. Ise gittin’ to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to +keep mighty tight eye ’pon him ’noovers. Todder day he gib me slip +’fore de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a +big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did +come—but Ise sich a fool dat I hadn’t de heart arter all—he +looked so berry poorly.” + +“Eh?—what?—ah yes!—upon the whole I think you had better not be +too severe with the poor fellow—don’t flog him, Jupiter—he can’t +very well stand it—but can you form no idea of what has occasioned +this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything +unpleasant happened since I saw you?” + +“No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant SINCE den—’twas ’FORE +den I’m feared—’twas de berry day you was dare.” + +“How? what do you mean.” + +“Why, massa, I mean de bug—dare now.” + +“The what?” + +“De bug—I’m berry sartin dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere ’bout de +head by dat goole-bug.” + +“And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?” + +“Claws enuff, massa, and mouff, too. I nebber did see sich a +deuced bug—he kick and he bite eberyting what cum near him. Massa +Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go ’gin mighty quick, I +tell you—den was de time he must ha’ got de bite. I didn’t like +de look ob de bug mouff, myself, nohow, so I wouldn’t take hold oh +him wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece oh paper dat I +found. I rap him up in de paper and stuff a piece of it in he +mouff—dat was de way.” + +“And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the +beetle, and that the bite made him sick?” + +“I don’t think noffin about it—I nose it. What make him dream +’bout de goole so much, if ’taint cause he bit by the goole-bug? +Ise heered ’bout dem goole-bugs ’fore dis.” + +“But how do you know he dreams about gold?” + +“How I know? why, ’cause he talk about it in he sleep—dat’s how I +nose.” + +“Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate +circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to- +day?” + +“What de matter, massa?” + +“Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?” + +“No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;” and here Jupiter handed me a +note which ran thus: + + +“MY DEAR —— + +“Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you have not +been so foolish as to take offense at any little brusquerie of +mine; but no, that is improbable. + +“Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety. I have +something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether +I should tell it at all. + +“I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup +annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions. +Would you believe it?—he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, +with which to chastise me for giving him the slip, and spending the +day, solus, among the hills on the mainland. I verily believe that +my ill looks alone saved me a flogging. + +“I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met. If you can, +in any way, make it convenient, come over with Jupiter. DO come. +I wish to see you TO-NIGHT, upon business of importance. I assure +you that it is of the HIGHEST importance. + +“Ever yours, + +“WILLIAM LEGRAND.” + + +There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great +uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially from that of +Legrand. What could he be dreaming of? What new crotchet +possessed his excitable brain? What “business of the highest +importance” could HE possibly have to transact? Jupiter’s account +of him boded no good. I dreaded lest the continued pressure of +misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled the reason of my +friend. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, I prepared to +accompany the negro. + +Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all +apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were to +embark. + +“What is the meaning of all this, Jup?” I inquired. + +“Him syfe, massa, and spade.” + +“Very true; but what are they doing here?” + +“Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis ’pon my buying for +him in de town, and de debbil’s own lot of money I had to gib for +em.” + +“But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your ‘Massa +Will’ going to do with scythes and spades?” + +“Dat’s more dan I know, and debbil take me if I don’t b’lieve ’tis +more dan he know too. But it’s all cum ob de bug.” + +Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose +whole intellect seemed to be absorbed by “de bug,” I now stepped +into the boat, and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we +soon ran into the little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, +and a walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about +three in the afternoon when we arrived. Legrand had been awaiting +us in eager expectation. He grasped my hand with a nervous +empressement which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions +already entertained. His countenance was pale even to ghastliness, +and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural luster. After some +inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not knowing what +better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarabaeus from +Lieutenant G——. + +“Oh, yes,” he replied, coloring violently, “I got it from him the +next morning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that +scarabaeus. Do you know that Jupiter is quite right about it?” + +“In what way?” I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart. + +“In supposing it to be a bug of REAL GOLD.” He said this with an +air of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked. + +“This bug is to make my fortune,” he continued, with a triumphant +smile; “to reinstate me in my family possessions. Is it any +wonder, then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to +bestow it upon me, I have only to use it properly, and I shall +arrive at the gold of which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me +that scarabaeus!” + +“What! de bug, massa? I’d rudder not go fer trubble dat bug; you +mus’ git him for your own self.” Hereupon Legrand arose, with a +grave and stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case +in which it was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabaeus, and, at +that time, unknown to naturalists—of course a great prize in a +scientific point of view. There were two round black spots near +one extremity of the back, and a long one near the other. The +scales were exceedingly hard and glossy, with all the appearance of +burnished gold. The weight of the insect was very remarkable, and, +taking all things into consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter +for his opinion respecting it; but what to make of Legrand’s +concordance with that opinion, I could not, for the life of me, +tell. + +“I sent for you,” said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had +completed my examination of the beetle, “I sent for you that I +might have your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of +Fate and of the bug—” + +“My dear Legrand,” I cried, interrupting him, “you are certainly +unwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go +to bed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get over +this. You are feverish and—” + +“Feel my pulse,” said he. + +I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest +indication of fever. + +“But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to +prescribe for you. In the first place go to bed. In the next—” + +“You are mistaken,” he interposed, “I am as well as I can expect to +be under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me +well, you will relieve this excitement.” + +“And how is this to be done?” + +“Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into +the hills, upon the mainland, and, in this expedition, we shall +need the aid of some person in whom we can confide. You are the +only one we can trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement +which you now perceive in me will be equally allayed.” + +“I am anxious to oblige you in any way,” I replied; “but do you +mean to say that this infernal beetle has any connection with your +expedition into the hills?” + +“It has.” + +“Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd proceeding.” + +“I am sorry—very sorry—for we shall have to try it by ourselves.” + +“Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad!—but stay!—how long +do you propose to be absent?” + +“Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at +all events, by sunrise.” + +“And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of +yours is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to your +satisfaction, you will then return home and follow my advice +implicitly, as that of your physician?” + +“Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to +lose.” + +With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four +o’clock—Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with +him the scythe and spades—the whole of which he insisted upon +carrying—more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of +the implements within reach of his master, than from any excess of +industry or complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, +and “dat deuced bug” were the sole words which escaped his lips +during the journey. For my own part, I had charge of a couple of +dark lanterns, while Legrand contented himself with the scarabaeus, +which he carried attached to the end of a bit of whipcord; twirling +it to and fro, with the air of a conjurer, as he went. When I +observed this last, plain evidence of my friend’s aberration of +mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I thought it best, +however, to humor his fancy, at least for the present, or until I +could adopt some more energetic measures with a chance of success. +In the meantime I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound him in +regard to the object of the expedition. Having succeeded in +inducing me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold +conversation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my +questions vouchsafed no other reply than “we shall see!” + +We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff, +and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of the mainland, +proceeded in a northwesterly direction, through a tract of country +excessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human footstep +was to be seen. Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only +for an instant, here and there, to consult what appeared to be +certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former occasion. + +In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was +just setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than +any yet seen. It was a species of table-land, near the summit of +an almost inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, +and interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon +the soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating +themselves into the valleys below, merely by the support of the +trees against which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various +directions, gave an air of still sterner solemnity to the scene. + +The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly +overgrown with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it +would have been impossible to force our way but for the scythe; and +Jupiter, by direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us a +path to the foot of an enormously tall tulip tree, which stood, +with some eight or ten oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them +all, and all other trees which I had then ever seen, in the beauty +of its foliage and form, in the wide spread of its branches, and in +the general majesty of its appearance. When we reached this tree, +Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked him if he thought he could +climb it. The old man seemed a little staggered by the question, +and for some moments made no reply. At length he approached the +huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined it with minute +attention. When he had completed his scrutiny, he merely said: + +“Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life.” + +“Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too dark +to see what we are about.” + +“How far mus’ go up, massa?” inquired Jupiter. + +“Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way to +go—and here—stop! take this beetle with you.” + +“De bug, Massa Will!—de goole-bug!” cried the negro, drawing back +in dismay—“what for mus’ tote de bug way up de tree?—d—n if I +do!” + +“If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold +of a harmless little dead beetle, why you can carry it up by this +string—but, if you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall +be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel.” + +“What de matter now, massa?” said Jup, evidently shamed into +compliance; “always want for to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was +only funnin anyhow. ME feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?” +Here he took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and, +maintaining the insect as far from his person as circumstances +would permit, prepared to ascend the tree. + +In youth, the tulip tree, or Liriodendron tulipiferum, the most +magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, +and often rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, in +its riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many +short limbs make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty +of ascension, in the present case, lay more in semblance than in +reality. Embracing the huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with +his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and +resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one or two +narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled himself into the +first great fork, and seemed to consider the whole business as +virtually accomplished. The RISK of the achievement was, in fact, +now over, although the climber was some sixty or seventy feet from +the ground. + +“Which way mus’ go now, Massa Will?” he asked. + +“Keep up the largest branch—the one on this side,” said Legrand. +The negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little +trouble; ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat +figure could be obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped +it. Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo. + +“How much fudder is got to go?” + +“How high up are you?” asked Legrand. + +“Ebber so fur,” replied the negro; “can see de sky fru de top oh de +tree.” + +“Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk +and count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have +you passed?” + +“One, two, tree, four, fibe—I done pass fibe big limb, massa, ’pon +dis side.” + +“Then go one limb higher.” + +In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the +seventh limb was attained. + +“Now, Jup,” cried Legrand, evidently much excited, “I want you to +work your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see +anything strange let me know.” + +By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor +friend’s insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative +but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously +anxious about getting him home. While I was pondering upon what +was best to be done, Jupiter’s voice was again heard. + +“Mos feered for to ventur pon dis limb berry far—’tis dead limb +putty much all de way.” + +“Did you say it was a DEAD limb, Jupiter?” cried Legrand in a +quavering voice. + +“Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail—done up for sartin—done +departed dis here life.” + +“What in the name of heaven shall I do?” asked Legrand, seemingly +in the greatest distress. + +“Do!” said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, “why come +home and go to bed. Come now!—that’s a fine fellow. It’s getting +late, and, besides, you remember your promise.” + +“Jupiter,” cried he, without heeding me in the least, “do you hear +me?” + +“Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.” + +“Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it +VERY rotten.” + +“Him rotten, massa, sure nuff,” replied the negro in a few moments, +“but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought venture out leetle +way pon de limb by myself, dat’s true.” + +“By yourself!—what do you mean?” + +“Why, I mean de bug. ’Tis BERRY hebby bug. Spose I drop him down +fuss, an den de limb won’t break wid just de weight of one nigger.” + +“You infernal scoundrel!” cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, +“what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as +you drop that beetle I’ll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do +you hear me?” + +“Yes, massa, needn’t hollo at poor nigger dat style.” + +“Well! now listen!—if you will venture out on the limb as far as +you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I’ll make you a present +of a silver dollar as soon as you get down.” + +“I’m gwine, Massa Will—deed I is,” replied the negro very +promptly—“mos out to the eend now.” + +“OUT TO THE END!” here fairly screamed Legrand; “do you say you are +out to the end of that limb?” + +“Soon be to de eend, massa—o-o-o-o-oh! Lor-gol-a-marcy! what IS +dis here pon de tree?” + +“Well!” cried Legrand, highly delighted, “what is it?” + +“Why ’taint noffin but a skull—somebody bin lef him head up de +tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off.” + +“A skull, you say!—very well,—how is it fastened to the limb?— +what holds it on?” + +“Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why dis berry curious sarcumstance, +pon my word—dare’s a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob +it on to de tree.” + +“Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you—do you hear?” + +“Yes, massa.” + +“Pay attention, then—find the left eye of the skull.” + +“Hum! hoo! dat’s good! why dey ain’t no eye lef at all.” + +“Curse your stupidity! do you know your right hand from your left?” + +“Yes, I knows dat—knows all about dat—’tis my lef hand what I +chops de wood wid.” + +“To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left eye is on the same +side as your left hand. Now, I suppose, you can find the left eye +of the skull, or the place where the left eye has been. Have you +found it?” + +Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked: + +“Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef hand of de +skull too?—cause de skull aint got not a bit oh a hand at all— +nebber mind! I got de lef eye now—here de lef eye! what mus do +wid it?” + +“Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string will reach— +but be careful and not let go your hold of the string.” + +“All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru +de hole—look out for him dare below!” + +During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter’s person could be seen; +but the beetle, which he had suffered to descend, was now visible +at the end of the string, and glistened, like a globe of burnished +gold, in the last rays of the setting sun, some of which still +faintly illumined the eminence upon which we stood. The scarabaeus +hung quite clear of any branches, and, if allowed to fall, would +have fallen at our feet. Legrand immediately took the scythe, and +cleared with it a circular space, three or four yards in diameter, +just beneath the insect, and, having accomplished this, ordered +Jupiter to let go the string and come down from the tree. + +Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at the precise +spot where the beetle fell, my friend now produced from his pocket +a tape measure. Fastening one end of this at that point of the +trunk of the tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it +reached the peg and thence further unrolled it, in the direction +already established by the two points of the tree and the peg, for +the distance of fifty feet—Jupiter clearing away the brambles with +the scythe. At the spot thus attained a second peg was driven, and +about this, as a center, a rude circle, about four feet in +diameter, described. Taking now a spade himself, and giving one to +Jupiter and one to me, Legrand begged us to set about digging as +quickly as possible. + +To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such amusement at +any time, and, at that particular moment, would willingly have +declined it; for the night was coming on, and I felt much fatigued +with the exercise already taken; but I saw no mode of escape, and +was fearful of disturbing my poor friend’s equanimity by a refusal. +Could I have depended, indeed, upon Jupiter’s aid, I would have had +no hesitation in attempting to get the lunatic home by force; but I +was too well assured of the old negro’s disposition, to hope that +he would assist me, under any circumstances, in a personal contest +with his master. I made no doubt that the latter had been infected +with some of the innumerable Southern superstitions about money +buried, and that his fantasy had received confirmation by the +finding of the scarabaeus, or, perhaps, by Jupiter’s obstinacy in +maintaining it to be “a bug of real gold.” A mind disposed to +lunacy would readily be led away by such suggestions—especially if +chiming in with favorite preconceived ideas—and then I called to +mind the poor fellow’s speech about the beetle’s being “the index +of his fortune.” Upon the whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, +but, at length, I concluded to make a virtue of necessity—to dig +with a good will, and thus the sooner to convince the visionary, by +ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of the opinion he entertained. + +The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with a zeal +worthy a more rational cause; and, as the glare fell upon our +persons and implements, I could not help thinking how picturesque a +group we composed, and how strange and suspicious our labors must +have appeared to any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled +upon our whereabouts. + +We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said; and our chief +embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the dog, who took exceeding +interest in our proceedings. He, at length, became so obstreperous +that we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in +the vicinity,—or, rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand;— +for myself, I should have rejoiced at any interruption which might +have enabled me to get the wanderer home. The noise was, at +length, very effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of +the hole with a dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute’s mouth +up with one of his suspenders, and then returned, with a grave +chuckle, to his task. + +When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached a depth of five +feet, and yet no signs of any treasure became manifest. A general +pause ensued, and I began to hope that the farce was at an end. +Legrand, however, although evidently much disconcerted, wiped his +brow thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the entire +circle of four feet diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the +limit, and went to the farther depth of two feet. Still nothing +appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length +clambered from the pit, with the bitterest disappointment imprinted +upon every feature, and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put +on his coat, which he had thrown off at the beginning of his labor. +In the meantime I made no remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his +master, began to gather up his tools. This done, and the dog +having been unmuzzled, we turned in profound silence toward home. + +We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction, when, with +a loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter, and seized him by the +collar. The astonished negro opened his eyes and mouth to the +fullest extent, let fall the spades, and fell upon his knees. + +“You scoundrel!” said Legrand, hissing out the syllables from +between his clenched teeth—“you infernal black villain!—speak, I +tell you!—answer me this instant, without prevarication!—which— +which is your left eye?” + +“Oh, my golly, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef eye for sartain?” +roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand upon his RIGHT organ +of vision, and holding it there with a desperate pertinacity, as if +in immediate, dread of his master’s attempt at a gouge. + +“I thought so!—I knew it! hurrah!” vociferated Legrand, letting +the negro go and executing a series of curvets and caracols, much +to the astonishment of his valet, who, arising from his knees, +looked, mutely, from his master to myself, and then from myself to +his master. + +“Come! we must go back,” said the latter, “the game’s not up yet;” +and he again led the way to the tulip tree. + +“Jupiter,” said he, when we reached its foot, “come here! was the +skull nailed to the limb with the face outward, or with the face to +the limb?” + +“De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at de eyes good, +widout any trouble.” + +“Well, then, was it this eye or that through which you dropped the +beetle?” here Legrand touched each of Jupiter’s eyes. + +“’Twas dis eye, massa—de lef eye—jis as you tell me,” and here it +was his right eye that the negro indicated. + +“That will do—we must try it again.” + +Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or fancied that I +saw, certain indications of method, removed the peg which marked +the spot where the beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to the +westward of its former position. Taking, now, the tape measure +from the nearest point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and +continuing the extension in a straight line to the distance of +fifty feet, a spot was indicated, removed, by several yards, from +the point at which we had been digging. + +Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than in the +former instance, was now described, and we again set to work with +the spade. I was dreadfully weary, but, scarcely understanding +what had occasioned the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer any +great aversion from the labor imposed. I had become most +unaccountably interested—nay, even excited. Perhaps there was +something, amid all the extravagant demeanor of Legrand—some air +of forethought, or of deliberation, which impressed me. I dug +eagerly, and now and then caught myself actually looking, with +something that very much resembled expectation, for the fancied +treasure, the vision of which had demented my unfortunate +companion. At a period when such vagaries of thought most fully +possessed me, and when we had been at work perhaps an hour and a +half, we were again interrupted by the violent howlings of the dog. +His uneasiness, in the first instance, had been, evidently, but the +result of playfulness or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter and +serious tone. Upon Jupiter’s again attempting to muzzle him, he +made furious resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up the +mold frantically with his claws. In a few seconds he had uncovered +a mass of human bones, forming two complete skeletons, intermingled +with several buttons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust of +decayed woolen. One or two strokes of a spade upturned the blade +of a large Spanish knife, and, as we dug farther, three or four +loose pieces of gold and silver coin came to light. + +At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be restrained, +but the countenance of his master wore an air of extreme +disappointment. He urged us, however, to continue our exertions, +and the words were hardly uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, +having caught the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay +half buried in the loose earth. + +We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of more +intense excitement. During this interval we had fairly unearthed +an oblong chest of wood, which, from its perfect preservation and +wonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some mineralizing +process—perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury. This box was +three feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and a half +feet deep. It was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, +riveted, and forming a kind of open trelliswork over the whole. On +each side of the chest, near the top, were three rings of iron—six +in all—by means of which a firm hold could be obtained by six +persons. Our utmost united endeavors served only to disturb the +coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impossibility +of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole fastenings of the +lid consisted of two sliding bolts. These we drew back—trembling +and panting with anxiety. In an instant, a treasure of +incalculable value lay gleaming before us. As the rays of the +lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upward a glow and a +glare, from a confused heap of gold and of jewels, that absolutely +dazzled our eyes. + +I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which I gazed. +Amazement was, of course, predominant. Legrand appeared exhausted +with excitement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter’s countenance +wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in +the nature of things, for any negro’s visage to assume. He seemed +stupefied—thunderstricken. Presently he fell upon his knees in +the pit, and burying his naked arms up to the elbows in gold, let +them there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. At length, +with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy: + +“And dis all cum of de goole-bug! de putty goole-bug! de poor +little goole-bug, what I boosed in that sabage kind oh style! +Ain’t you shamed oh yourself, nigger?—answer me dat!” + +It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both master and +valet to the expediency of removing the treasure. It was growing +late, and it behooved us to make exertion, that we might get +everything housed before daylight. It was difficult to say what +should be done, and much time was spent in deliberation—so +confused were the ideas of all. We, finally, lightened the box by +removing two thirds of its contents, when we were enabled, with +some trouble, to raise it from the hole. The articles taken out +were deposited among the brambles, and the dog left to guard them, +with strict orders from Jupiter neither, upon any pretense, to stir +from the spot, nor to open his mouth until our return. We then +hurriedly made for home with the chest; reaching the hut in safety, +but after excessive toil, at one o’clock in the morning. Worn out +as we were, it was not in human nature to do more immediately. We +rested until two, and had supper; starting for the hills +immediately afterwards, armed with three stout sacks, which, by +good luck, were upon the premises. A little before four we arrived +at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as equally as might +be, among us, and, leaving the holes unfilled, again set out for +the hut, at which, for the second time, we deposited our golden +burdens, just as the first faint streaks of the dawn gleamed from +over the treetops in the east. + +We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of +the time denied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three +or four hours’ duration, we arose, as if by preconcert, to make +examination of our treasure. + +The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day, +and the greater part of the next night, in a scrutiny of its +contents. There had been nothing like order or arrangement. +Everything had been heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all +with care, we found ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than +we had at first supposed. In coin there was rather more than four +hundred and fifty thousand dollars—estimating the value of the +pieces, as accurately as we could, by the tables of the period. +There was not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique date +and of great variety—French, Spanish, and German money, with a few +English guineas, and some counters, of which we had never seen +specimens before. There were several very large and heavy coins, +so worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions. There +was no American money. The value of the jewels we found more +difficulty in estimating. There were diamonds—some of them +exceedingly large and fine—a hundred and ten in all, and not one +of them small; eighteen rubies of remarkable brilliancy;—three +hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful; and twenty-one +sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken from +their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings +themselves, which we picked out from among the other gold, appeared +to have been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent +identification. Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of +solid gold ornaments; nearly two hundred massive finger and ears +rings; rich chains—thirty of these, if I remember; eighty-three +very large and heavy crucifixes; five gold censers of great value; +a prodigious golden punch bowl, ornamented with richly chased vine +leaves and Bacchanalian figures; with two sword handles exquisitely +embossed, and many other smaller articles which I cannot recollect. +The weight of these valuables exceeded three hundred and fifty +pounds avoirdupois; and in this estimate I have not included one +hundred and ninety-seven superb gold watches; three of the number +being worth each five hundred dollars, if one. Many of them were +very old, and as timekeepers valueless; the works having suffered, +more or less, from corrosion—but all were richly jeweled and in +cases of great worth. We estimated the entire contents of the +chest, that night, at a million and a half of dollars; and upon the +subsequent disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few being +retained for our own use), it was found that we had greatly +undervalued the treasure. + +When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the intense +excitement of the time had, in some measure, subsided, Legrand, who +saw that I was dying with impatience for a solution of this most +extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all the +circumstances connected with it. + +“You remember,” said he, “the night when I handed you the rough +sketch I had made of the scarabaeus. You recollect, also, that I +became quite vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled a +death’s head. When you first made this assertion I thought you +were jesting; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots on +the back of the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark had +some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic +powers irritated me—for I am considered a good artist—and, +therefore, when you handed me the scrap of parchment, I was about +to crumple it up and throw it angrily into the fire.” + +“The scrap of paper, you mean,” said I. + +“No; it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I +supposed it to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I +discovered it at once to be a piece of very thin parchment. It was +quite dirty, you remember. Well, as I was in the very act of +crumpling it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which you had +been looking, and you may imagine my astonishment when I perceived, +in fact, the figure of a death’s head just where, it seemed to me, +I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment I was too much +amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my design was very +different in detail from this—although there was a certain +similarity in general outline. Presently I took a candle, and +seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded to +scrutinize the parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw +my own sketch upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first +idea, now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similarity of +outline—at the singular coincidence involved in the fact that, +unknown to me, there should have been a skull upon the other side +of the parchment, immediately beneath my figure of the scarabaeus, +and that this skull, not only in outline, but in size, should so +closely resemble my drawing. I say the singularity of this +coincidence absolutely stupefied me for a time. This is the usual +effect of such coincidences. The mind struggles to establish a +connection—a sequence of cause and effect—and, being unable to do +so, suffers a species of temporary paralysis. But, when I +recovered from this stupor, there dawned upon me gradually a +conviction which startled me even far more than the coincidence. I +began distinctly, positively, to remember that there had been NO +drawing upon the parchment, when I made my sketch of the +scarabaeus. I became perfectly certain of this; for I recollected +turning up first one side and then the other, in search of the +cleanest spot. Had the skull been then there, of course I could +not have failed to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I +felt it impossible to explain; but, even at that early moment, +there seemed to glimmer, faintly, within the most remote and secret +chambers of my intellect, a glow-wormlike conception of that truth +which last night’s adventure brought to so magnificent a +demonstration. I arose at once, and putting the parchment securely +away, dismissed all further reflection until I should be alone. + +“When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook +myself to a more methodical investigation of the affair. In the +first place I considered the manner in which the parchment had come +into my possession. The spot where we discovered the scarabaeus +was on the coast of the mainland, about a mile eastward of the +island, and but a short distance above high-water mark. Upon my +taking hold of it, it gave me a sharp bite, which caused me to let +it drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution, before seizing the +insect, which had flown toward him, looked about him for a leaf, or +something of that nature, by which to take hold of it. It was at +this moment that his eyes, and mine also, fell upon the scrap of +parchment, which I then supposed to be paper. It was lying half +buried in the sand, a corner sticking up. Near the spot where we +found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of what appeared to +have been a ship’s longboat. The wreck seemed to have been there +for a very great while, for the resemblance to boat timbers could +scarcely be traced. + +“Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, +and gave it to me. Soon afterwards we turned to go home, and on +the way met Lieutenant G——. I showed him the insect, and he +begged me to let him take it to the fort. Upon my consenting, he +thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat pocket, without the +parchment in which it had been wrapped, and which I had continued +to hold in my hand during his inspection. Perhaps he dreaded my +changing my mind, and thought it best to make sure of the prize at +once—you know how enthusiastic he is on all subjects connected +with Natural History. At the same time, without being conscious of +it, I must have deposited the parchment in my own pocket. + +“You remember that when I went to the table, for the purpose of +making a sketch of the beetle, I found no paper where it was +usually kept. I looked in the drawer, and found none there. I +searched my pockets, hoping to find an old letter, when my hand +fell upon the parchment. I thus detail the precise mode in which +it came into my possession, for the circumstances impressed me with +peculiar force. + +“No doubt you will think me fanciful—but I had already established +a kind of CONNECTION. I had put together two links of a great +chain. There was a boat lying upon a seacoast, and not far from +the boat was a parchment—NOT A PAPER—with a skull depicted upon +it. You will, of course, ask ‘where is the connection?’ I reply +that the skull, or death’s head, is the well-known emblem of the +pirate. The flag of the death’s head is hoisted in all +engagements. + +“I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not paper. +Parchment is durable—almost imperishable. Matters of little +moment are rarely consigned to parchment; since, for the mere +ordinary purposes of drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well +adapted as paper. This reflection suggested some meaning—some +relevancy—in the death’s head. I did not fail to observe, also, +the FORM of the parchment. Although one of its corners had been, +by some accident, destroyed, it could be seen that the original +form was oblong. It was just such a slip, indeed, as might have +been chosen for a memorandum—for a record of something to be long +remembered, and carefully preserved.” + +“But,” I interposed, “you say that the skull was NOT upon the +parchment when you made the drawing of the beetle. How then do you +trace any connection between the boat and the skull—since this +latter, according to your own admission, must have been designed +(God only knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your +sketching the scarabaeus?” + +“Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the secret, at this +point, I had comparatively little difficulty in solving. My steps +were sure, and could afford but a single result. I reasoned, for +example, thus: When I drew the scarabaeus, there was no skull +apparent upon the parchment. When I had completed the drawing I +gave it to you, and observed you narrowly until you returned it. +YOU, therefore, did not design the skull, and no one else was +present to do it. Then it was not done by human agency. And +nevertheless it was done. + +“At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remember, and DID +remember, with entire distinctness, every incident which occurred +about the period in question. The weather was chilly (oh, rare and +happy accident!), and a fire was blazing upon the hearth. I was +heated with exercise and sat near the table. You, however, had +drawn a chair close to the chimney. Just as I placed the parchment +in your hand, and as you were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, +the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With +your left hand you caressed him and kept him off, while your right, +holding the parchment, was permitted to fall listlessly between +your knees, and in close proximity to the fire. At one moment I +thought the blaze had caught it, and was about to caution you, but, +before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were engaged in its +examination. When I considered all these particulars, I doubted +not for a moment that HEAT had been the agent in bringing to light, +upon the parchment, the skull which I saw designed upon it. You +are well aware that chemical preparations exist, and have existed +time out of mind, by means of which it is possible to write upon +either paper or vellum, so that the characters shall become visible +only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested in +aqua regia, and diluted with four times its weight of water, is +sometimes employed; a green tint results. The regulus of cobalt, +dissolved in spirit of niter, gives a red. These colors disappear +at longer or shorter intervals after the material written upon +cools, but again become apparent upon the reapplication of heat. + +“I now scrutinized the death’s head with care. Its outer edges— +the edges of the drawing nearest the edge of the vellum—were far +more DISTINCT than the others. It was clear that the action of the +caloric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a +fire, and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing +heat. At first, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint +lines in the skull; but, upon persevering in the experiment, there +became visible, at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to +the spot in which the death’s head was delineated, the figure of +what I at first supposed to be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, +satisfied me that it was intended for a kid.” + +“Ha! ha!” said I, “to be sure I have no right to laugh at you—a +million and a half of money is too serious a matter for mirth—but +you are not about to establish a third link in your chain—you will +not find any especial connection between your pirates and a goat— +pirates, you know, have nothing to do with goats; they appertain to +the farming interest.” + +“But I have just said that the figure was NOT that of a goat.” + +“Well, a kid then—pretty much the same thing.” + +“Pretty much, but not altogether,” said Legrand. “You may have +heard of one CAPTAIN Kidd. I at once looked upon the figure of the +animal as a kind of punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say +signature; because its position upon the vellum suggested this +idea. The death’s head at the corner diagonally opposite, had, in +the same manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put +out by the absence of all else—of the body to my imagined +instrument—of the text for my context.” + +“I presume you expected to find a letter between the stamp and the +signature.” + +“Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly +impressed with a presentiment of some vast good fortune impending. +I can scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire +than an actual belief;—but do you know that Jupiter’s silly words, +about the bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect upon my +fancy? And then the series of accidents and coincidents—these +were so VERY extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it +was that these events should have occurred upon the SOLE day of all +the year in which it has been, or may be sufficiently cool for +fire, and that without the fire, or without the intervention of the +dog at the precise moment in which he appeared, I should never have +become aware of the death’s head, and so never the possessor of the +treasure?” + +“But proceed—I am all impatience.” + +“Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current—the +thousand vague rumors afloat about money buried, somewhere upon the +Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his associates. These rumors must have +had some foundation in fact. And that the rumors have existed so +long and so continuous, could have resulted, it appeared to me, +only from the circumstance of the buried treasures still REMAINING +entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder for a time, and +afterwards reclaimed it, the rumors would scarcely have reached us +in their present unvarying form. You will observe that the stories +told are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders. Had the +pirate recovered his money, there the affair would have dropped. +It seemed to me that some accident—say the loss of a memorandum +indicating its locality—had deprived him of the means of +recovering it, and that this accident had become known to his +followers, who otherwise might never have heard that the treasure +had been concealed at all, and who, busying themselves in vain, +because unguided, attempts to regain it, had given first birth, and +then universal currency, to the reports which are now so common. +Have you ever heard of any important treasure being unearthed along +the coast?” + +“Never.” + +“But that Kidd’s accumulations were immense, is well known. I took +it for granted, therefore, that the earth still held them; and you +will scarcely be surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope, +nearly amounting to certainty, that the parchment so strangely +found involved a lost record of the place of deposit.” + +“But how did you proceed?” + +“I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat, +but nothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating +of dirt might have something to do with the failure: so I carefully +rinsed the parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, having +done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downward, and +put the pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, +the pan having become thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and, +to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in several places, with +what appeared to be figures arranged in lines. Again I placed it +in the pan, and suffered it to remain another minute. Upon taking +it off, the whole was just as you see it now.” + +Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, submitted it to my +inspection. The following characters were rudely traced, in a red +tint, between the death’s head and the goat: + + +“53++!305))6*;4826)4+)4+).;806*;48!8]60))85;1+8*:+(;:+*8!83(88)5*!; +46(;88*96*?;8)*+(;485);5*!2:*+(;4956*2(5*–4)8]8*;4069285);)6!8)4++; +1(+9;48081;8:8+1;48!85;4)485!528806*81(+9;48;(88;4(+?34;48)4+;161;: +188;+?;” + + +“But,” said I, returning him the slip, “I am as much in the dark as +ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting me upon my solution +of this enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable to earn +them.” + +“And yet,” said Legrand, “the solution is by no means so difficult +as you might be led to imagine from the first hasty inspection of +the characters. These characters, as anyone might readily guess, +form a cipher—that is to say, they convey a meaning; but then from +what is known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of +constructing any of the more abstruse cryptographs. I made up my +mind, at once, that this was of a simple species—such, however, as +would appear, to the crude intellect of the sailor, absolutely +insoluble without the key.” + +“And you really solved it?” + +“Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand +times greater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led +me to take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted +whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which +human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, +having once established connected and legible characters, I +scarcely gave a thought to the mere difficulty of developing their +import. + +“In the present case—indeed in all cases of secret writing—the +first question regards the LANGUAGE of the cipher; for the +principles of solution, so far, especially, as the more simple +ciphers are concerned, depend upon, and are varied by, the genius +of the particular idiom. In general, there is no alternative but +experiment (directed by probabilities) of every tongue known to him +who attempts the solution, until the true one be attained. But, +with the cipher now before us, all difficulty was removed by the +signature. The pun upon the word ‘Kidd’ is appreciable in no other +language than the English. But for this consideration I should +have begun my attempts with the Spanish and French, as the tongues +in which a secret of this kind would most naturally have been +written by a pirate of the Spanish main. As it was, I assumed the +cryptograph to be English. + +“You observe there are no divisions between the words. Had there +been divisions the task would have been comparatively easy. In +such cases I should have commenced with a collation and analysis of +the shorter words, and, had a word of a single letter occurred, as +is most likely, (a or I, for example,) I should have considered the +solution as assured. But, there being no division, my first step +was to ascertain the predominant letters, as well as the least +frequent. Counting all, I constructed a table thus: + + +Of the character 8 there are 33. + ; „ 26. + 4 „ 19. + +) „ 16. + * „ 13. + 5 „ 12. + 6 „ 11. + !1 „ 8. + 0 „ 6. + 92 „ 5. + :3 „ 4. + ? „ 3. + ] „ 2. + -. „ 1. + + +“Now, in English, the letter which most frequently occurs is e. +Afterwards, the succession runs thus: a o i d h n r s t u y c f g l +m w b k p q x z. E predominates so remarkably, that an individual +sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is not the +prevailing character. + +“Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the groundwork for +something more than a mere guess. The general use which may be +made of the table is obvious—but, in this particular cipher, we +shall only very partially require its aid. As our predominant +character is 8, we will commence by assuming it as the e of the +natural alphabet. To verify the supposition, let us observe if the +8 be seen often in couples—for e is doubled with great frequency +in English—in such words, for example, as ‘meet,’ ‘fleet,’ +‘speed,’ ‘seen,’ ‘been,’ ‘agree,’ etc. In the present instance we +see it doubled no less than five times, although the cryptograph is +brief. + +“Let us assume 8, then, as e. Now, of all WORDS in the language, +‘the’ is most usual; let us see, therefore, whether there are not +repetitions of any three characters, in the same order of +collocation, the last of them being 8. If we discover repetitions +of such letters, so arranged, they will most probably represent the +word ‘the.’ Upon inspection, we find no less than seven such +arrangements, the characters being ;48. We may, therefore, assume +that ; represents t, 4 represents h, and 8 represents e—the last +being now well confirmed. Thus a great step has been taken. + +“But, having established a single word, we are enabled to establish +a vastly important point; that is to say, several commencements and +terminations of other words. Let us refer, for example, to the +last instance but one, in which the combination ;48 occurs—not far +from the end of the cipher. We know that the ; immediately ensuing +is the commencement of a word, and, of the six characters +succeeding this ‘the,’ we are cognizant of no less than five. Let +us set these characters down, thus, by the letters we know them to +represent, leaving a space for the unknown— + + +t eeth. + + +“Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the ‘th,’ as forming no +portion of the word commencing with the first t; since, by +experiment of the entire alphabet for a letter adapted to the +vacancy, we perceive that no word can be formed of which this th +can be a part. We are thus narrowed into + + +t ee, + + +and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before, we arrive +at the word ‘tree,’ as the sole possible reading. We thus gain +another letter, r, represented by (, with the words ‘the tree’ in +juxtaposition. + +“Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we again see the +combination ;48, and employ it by way of TERMINATION to what +immediately precedes. We have thus this arrangement: + + +the tree ;4(4+?34 the, + + +or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads thus: + + +the tree thr+?3h the. + + +“Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we leave blank +spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus: + + +the tree thr...h the, + + +when the word ‘through’ makes itself evident at once. But this +discovery gives us three new letters, o, u, and g, represented by ++, ?, and 3. + +“Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combinations of +known characters, we find, not very far from the beginning, this +arrangement, + + +83(88, or egree, + + +which plainly, is the conclusion of the word ‘degree,’ and gives us +another letter, d, represented by !. + +“Four letters beyond the word ‘degree,’ we perceive the combination + + +;46(;88. + + +“Translating the known characters, and representing the unknown by +dots, as before, we read thus: + + +th.rtee, + + +an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word thirteen,’ and +again furnishing us with two new characters, i and n, represented +by 6 and *. + +“Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph, we find the +combination, + + +53++!. + + +“Translating as before, we obtain + + +.good, + + +which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the first two +words are ‘A good.’ + +“It is now time that we arrange our key, as far as discovered, in a +tabular form, to avoid confusion. It will stand thus: + + +5 represents a +! „ d +8 „ e +3 „ g +4 „ h +6 „ i +* „ n ++ „ o +( „ r +; „ t +? „ u + + +“We have, therefore, no less than eleven of the most important +letters represented, and it will be unnecessary to proceed with the +details of the solution. I have said enough to convince you that +ciphers of this nature are readily soluble, and to give you some +insight into the rationale of their development. But be assured +that the specimen before us appertains to the very simplest species +of cryptograph. It now only remains to give you the full +translation of the characters upon the parchment, as unriddled. +Here it is: + + +“‘A good glass in the bishop’s hostel in the devil’s seat forty-one +degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by north main branch +seventh limb east side shoot from the left eye of the death’s head +a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out.’” + + +“But,” said I, “the enigma seems still in as bad a condition as +ever. How is it possible to extort a meaning from all this jargon +about ‘devil’s seats,’ ‘death’s heads,’ and ‘bishop’s hostels’?” + +“I confess,” replied Legrand, “that the matter still wears a +serious aspect, when regarded with a casual glance. My first +endeavor was to divide the sentence into the natural division +intended by the cryptographist.” + +“You mean, to punctuate it?” + +“Something of that kind.” + +“But how was it possible to effect this?” + +“I reflected that it had been a POINT with the writer to run his +words together without division, so as to increase the difficulty +of solution. Now, a not overacute man, in pursuing such an object, +would be nearly certain to overdo the matter. When, in the course +of his composition, he arrived at a break in his subject which +would naturally require a pause, or a point, he would be +exceedingly apt to run his characters, at this place, more than +usually close together. If you will observe the MS., in the +present instance, you will easily detect five such cases of unusual +crowding. Acting upon this hint I made the division thus: + + +“‘A good glass in the bishop’s hostel in the devil’s seat—forty- +one degrees and thirteen minutes—northeast and by north—main +branch seventh limb east side—shoot from the left eye of the +death’s head—a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet +out.’” + + +“Even this division,” said I, “leaves me still in the dark.” + +“It left me also in the dark,” replied Legrand, “for a few days; +during which I made diligent inquiry in the neighborhood of +Sullivan’s Island, for any building which went by name of the +‘Bishop’s Hotel’; for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word +‘hostel.’ Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the +point of extending my sphere of search, and proceeding in a more +systematic manner, when, one morning, it entered into my head, +quite suddenly, that this ‘Bishop’s Hostel’ might have some +reference to an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, time out +of mind, had held possession of an ancient manor house, about four +miles to the northward of the island. I accordingly went over to +the plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries among the older +negroes of the place. At length one of the most aged of the women +said that she had heard of such a place as Bessop’s Castle, and +thought that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a +castle, nor a tavern, but a high rock. + +“I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some demur, +she consented to accompany me to the spot. We found it without +much difficulty, when, dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the +place. The ‘castle’ consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs +and rocks—one of the latter being quite remarkable for its height +as well as for its insulated and artificial appearance. I +clambered to its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what +should be next done. + +“While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon a narrow ledge +in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit +upon which I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, +and was not more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just +above it gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed +chairs used by our ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the +‘devil’s seat’ alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the +full secret of the riddle. + +“The ‘good glass,’ I knew, could have reference to nothing but a +telescope; for the word ‘glass’ is rarely employed in any other +sense by seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a telescope to be +used, and a definite point of view, ADMITTING NO VARIATION, from +which to use it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, +‘forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes,’ and ‘northeast and by +north,’ were intended as directions for the leveling of the glass. +Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried home, procured a +telescope, and returned to the rock. + +“I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was impossible +to retain a seat upon it except in one particular position. This +fact confirmed my preconceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. +Of course, the ‘forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes’ could +allude to nothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since +the horizontal direction was clearly indicated by the words, +‘northeast and by north.’ This latter direction I at once +established by means of a pocket compass; then, pointing the glass +as nearly at an angle of forty-one degrees of elevation as I could +do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my +attention was arrested by a circular rift or opening in the foliage +of a large tree that overtopped its fellows in the distance. In +the center of this rift I perceived a white spot, but could not, at +first, distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the +telescope, I again looked, and now made it out to be a human skull. + +“Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the enigma +solved; for the phrase ‘main branch, seventh limb, east side,’ +could refer only to the position of the skull upon the tree, while +‘shoot from the left eye of the death’s head’ admitted, also, of +but one interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. +I perceived that the design was to drop a bullet from the left eye +of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other words, a straight +line, drawn from the nearest point of the trunk ‘through the shot’ +(or the spot where the bullet fell), and thence extended to a +distance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point—and +beneath this point I thought it at least POSSIBLE that a deposit of +value lay concealed.” + +“All this,” I said, “is exceedingly clear, and, although ingenious, +still simple and explicit. When you left the Bishop’s Hotel, what +then?” + +“Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turned +homeward. The instant that I left ‘the devil’s seat,’ however, the +circular rift vanished; nor could I get a glimpse of it afterwards, +turn as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this +whole business, is the fact (for repeated experiment has convinced +me it IS a fact) that the circular opening in question is visible +from no other attainable point of view than that afforded by the +narrow ledge upon the face of the rock. + +“In this expedition to the ‘Bishop’s Hotel’ I had been attended by +Jupiter, who had, no doubt, observed, for some weeks past, the +abstraction of my demeanor, and took especial care not to leave me +alone. But, on the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to +give him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. +After much toil I found it. When I came home at night my valet +proposed to give me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I +believe you are as well acquainted as myself.” + +“I suppose,” said I, “you missed the spot, in the first attempt at +digging, through Jupiter’s stupidity in letting the bug fall +through the right instead of through the left eye of the skull.” + +“Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about two inches and +a half in the ‘shot’—that is to say, in the position of the peg +nearest the tree; and had the treasure been BENEATH the ‘shot,’ the +error would have been of little moment; but ‘the shot,’ together +with the nearest point of the tree, were merely two points for the +establishment of a line of direction; of course the error, however +trivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded with the line, +and by the time we had gone fifty feet threw us quite off the +scent. But for my deep-seated impressions that treasure was here +somewhere actually buried, we might have had all our labor in +vain.” + +“But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swinging the beetle— +how excessively odd! I was sure you were mad. And why did you +insist upon letting fall the bug, instead of a bullet, from the +skull?” + +“Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your evident +suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to punish you +quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober mystification. +For this reason I swung the beetle, and for this reason I let it +fall from the tree. An observation of yours about its great weight +suggested the latter idea.” + +“Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzles me. +What are we to make of the skeletons found in the hole?” + +“That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. +There seems, however, only one plausible way of accounting for +them—and yet it is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my +suggestion would imply. It is clear that Kidd—if Kidd indeed +secreted this treasure, which I doubt not—it is clear that he must +have had assistance in the labor. But this labor concluded, he may +have thought it expedient to remove all participants in his secret. +Perhaps a couple of blows with a mattock were sufficient, while his +coadjutors were busy in the pit; perhaps it required a dozen—who +shall tell?” + + + + +Washington Irving + + + + +Wolfert Webber, or Golden Dreams + + +In the year of grace one thousand seven hundred and—blank—for I +do not remember the precise date; however, it was somewhere in the +early part of the last century,—there lived in the ancient city of +the Manhattoes a worthy burgher, Wolfert Webber by name. He was +descended from old Cobus Webber of the Brill[1] in Holland, one of +the original settlers, famous for introducing the cultivation of +cabbages, and who came over to the province during the +protectorship of Oloffe Van Kortlandt, otherwise called “the +Dreamer.” + + +[1] The Brill is a fortified seaport of Holland, on the Meuse +River, near Rotterdam. + + +The field in which Cobus Webber first planted himself and his +cabbages had remained ever since in the family, who continued in +the same line of husbandry with that praiseworthy perseverance for +which our Dutch burghers are noted. The whole family genius, +during several generations, was devoted to the study and +development of this one noble vegetable, and to this concentration +of intellect may doubtless be ascribed the prodigious renown to +which the Webber cabbages attained. + +The Webber dynasty continued in uninterrupted succession, and never +did a line give more unquestionable proofs of legitimacy. The +eldest son succeeded to the looks as well as the territory of his +sire, and had the portraits of this line of tranquil potentates +been taken, they would have presented a row of heads marvelously +resembling, in shape and magnitude, the vegetables over which they +reigned. + +The seat of government continued unchanged in the family mansion,— +a Dutch-built house, with a front, or rather gable end, of yellow +brick, tapering to a point, with the customary iron weathercock at +the top. Everything about the building bore the air of long- +settled ease and security. Flights of martins peopled the little +coops nailed against its walls, and swallows built their nests +under the eaves, and everyone knows that these house-loving birds +bring good luck to the dwelling where they take up their abode. In +a bright summer morning in early summer, it was delectable to hear +their cheerful notes as they sported about in the pure, sweet air, +chirping forth, as it were, the greatness and prosperity of the +Webbers. + +Thus quietly and comfortably did this excellent family vegetate +under the shade of a mighty buttonwood tree, which by little and +little grew so great as entirely to overshadow their palace. The +city gradually spread its suburbs round their domain. Houses +sprang up to interrupt their prospects. The rural lanes in the +vicinity began to grow into the bustle and populousness of streets; +in short, with all the habits of rustic life they began to find +themselves the inhabitants of a city. Still, however, they +maintained their hereditary character and hereditary possessions, +with all the tenacity of petty German princes in the midst of the +empire. Wolfert was the last of the line, and succeeded to the +patriarchal bench at the door, under the family tree, and swayed +the scepter of his fathers,—a kind of rural potentate in the midst +of the metropolis. + +To share the cares and sweets of sovereignty he had taken unto +himself a helpmate, one of that excellent kind called “stirring +women”; that is to say, she was one of those notable little +housewives who are always busy where there is nothing to do. Her +activity, however, took one particular direction,—her whole life +seemed devoted to intense knitting; whether at home or abroad, +walking or sitting, her needles were continually in motion, and it +is even affirmed that by her unwearied industry she very nearly +supplied her household with stockings throughout the year. This +worthy couple were blessed with one daughter who was brought up +with great tenderness and care; uncommon pains had been taken with +her education, so that she could stitch in every variety of way, +make all kinds of pickles and preserves, and mark her own name on a +sampler. The influence of her taste was seen also in the family +garden, where the ornamental began to mingle with the useful; whole +rows of fiery marigolds and splendid hollyhocks bordered the +cabbage beds, and gigantic sunflowers lolled their broad, jolly +faces over the fences, seeming to ogle most affectionately the +passers-by. + +Thus reigned and vegetated Wolfert Webber over his paternal acres, +peacefully and contentedly. Not but that, like all other +sovereigns, he had his occasional cares and vexations. The growth +of his native city sometimes caused him annoyance. His little +territory gradually became hemmed in by streets and houses, which +intercepted air and sunshine. He was now and then subjected to the +eruptions of the border population that infest the streets of a +metropolis, who would make midnight forays into his dominions, and +carry off captive whole platoons of his noblest subjects. Vagrant +swine would make a descent, too, now and then, when the gate was +left open, and lay all waste before them; and mischievous urchins +would decapitate the illustrious sunflowers, the glory of the +garden, as they lolled their heads so fondly over the walls. Still +all these were petty grievances, which might now and then ruffle +the surface of his mind, as a summer breeze will ruffle the surface +of a mill pond, but they could not disturb the deep-seated quiet of +his soul. He would but seize a trusty staff that stood behind the +door, issue suddenly out, and anoint the back of the aggressor, +whether pig or urchin, and then return within doors, marvelously +refreshed and tranquilized. + +The chief cause of anxiety to honest Wolfert, however, was the +growing prosperity of the city. The expenses of living doubled and +trebled, but he could not double and treble the magnitude of his +cabbages, and the number of competitors prevented the increase of +price; thus, therefore, while everyone around him grew richer, +Wolfert grew poorer, and he could not, for the life of him, +perceive how the evil was to be remedied. + +This growing care, which increased from day to day, had its gradual +effect upon our worthy burgher, insomuch that it at length +implanted two or three wrinkles in his brow, things unknown before +in the family of the Webbers, and it seemed to pinch up the corners +of his cocked hat into an expression of anxiety totally opposite to +the tranquil, broad-brimmed, low-crowned beavers of his illustrious +progenitors. + +Perhaps even this would not have materially disturbed the serenity +of his mind had he had only himself and his wife to care for; but +there was his daughter gradually growing to maturity, and all the +world knows that when daughters begin to ripen, no fruit nor flower +requires so much looking after. I have no talent at describing +female charms, else fain would I depict the progress of this little +Dutch beauty: how her blue eyes grew deeper and deeper, and her +cherry lips redder and redder, and how she ripened and ripened, and +rounded and rounded, in the opening breath of sixteen summers, +until, in her seventeenth spring, she seemed ready to burst out of +her bodice, like a half-blown rosebud. + +Ah, well-a-day! Could I but show her as she was then, tricked out +on a Sunday morning in the hereditary finery of the old Dutch +clothespress, of which her mother had confided to her the key! The +wedding dress of her grandmother, modernized for use, with sundry +ornaments, handed down as heirlooms in the family. Her pale brown +hair smoothed with buttermilk in flat, waving lines on each side of +her fair forehead. The chain of yellow, virgin gold that encircled +her neck; the little cross that just rested at the entrance of a +soft valley of happiness, as if it would sanctify the place. The— +but pooh! it is not for an old man like me to be prosing about +female beauty; suffice it to say, Amy had attained her seventeenth +year. Long since had her sampler exhibited hearts in couples +desperately transfixed with arrows, and true lovers’ knots worked +in deep blue silk, and it was evident she began to languish for +some more interesting occupation than the rearing of sunflowers or +pickling of cucumbers. + +At this critical period of female existence, when the heart within +a damsel’s bosom, like its emblem, the miniature which hangs +without, is apt to be engrossed by a single image, a new visitor +began to make his appearance under the roof of Wolfert Webber. +This was Dirk Waldron, the only son of a poor widow, but who could +boast of more fathers than any lad in the province, for his mother +had had four husbands, and this only child, so that, though born in +her last wedlock, he might fairly claim to be the tardy fruit of a +long course of cultivation. This son of four fathers united the +merits and the vigor of all his sires. If he had not had a great +family before him he seemed likely to have a great one after him, +for you had only to look at the fresh, buxom youth to see that he +was formed to be the founder of a mighty race. + +This youngster gradually became an intimate visitor of the family. +He talked little, but he sat long. He filled the father’s pipe +when it was empty, gathered up the mother’s knitting needle, or +ball of worsted, when it fell to the ground, stroked the sleek coat +of the tortoise-shell cat, and replenished the teapot for the +daughter from the bright copper kettle that sang before the fire. +All these quiet little offices may seem of trifling import, but +when true love is translated into Low Dutch it is in this way that +it eloquently expresses itself. They were not lost upon the Webber +family. The winning youngster found marvelous favor in the eyes of +the mother; the tortoise-shell cat, albeit the most staid and +demure of her kind, gave indubitable signs of approbation of his +visits; the teakettle seemed to sing out a cheering note of welcome +at his approach; and if the sly glances of the daughter might be +rightly read, as she sat bridling and dimpling, and sewing by her +mother’s side, she was not a whit behind Dame Webber, or grimalkin, +or the teakettle, in good will. + +Wolfert alone saw nothing of what was going on. Profoundly wrapt +up in meditation on the growth of the city and his cabbages, he sat +looking in the fire, and puffing his pipe in silence. One night, +however, as the gentle Amy, according to custom, lighted her lover +to the outer door, and he, according to custom, took his parting +salute, the smack resounded so vigorously through the long, silent +entry as to startle even the dull ear of Wolfert. He was slowly +roused to a new source of anxiety. It had never entered into his +head that this mere child, who, as it seemed, but the other day had +been climbing about his knees and playing with dolls and baby +houses, could all at once be thinking of lovers and matrimony. He +rubbed his eyes, examined into the fact, and really found that +while he had been dreaming of other matters, she had actually grown +to be a woman, and, what was worse, had fallen in love. Here arose +new cares for Wolfert. He was a kind father, but he was a prudent +man. The young man was a lively, stirring lad, but then he had +neither money nor land. Wolfert’s ideas all ran in one channel, +and he saw no alternative in case of a marriage but to portion off +the young couple with a corner of his cabbage garden, the whole of +which was barely sufficient for the support of his family. + +Like a prudent father, therefore, he determined to nip this passion +in the bud, and forbade the youngster the house, though sorely did +it go against his fatherly heart, and many a silent tear did it +cause in the bright eye of his daughter. She showed herself, +however, a pattern of filial piety and obedience. She never pouted +and sulked; she never flew in the face of parental authority; she +never flew into a passion, nor fell into hysterics, as many +romantic, novel-read young ladies would do. Not she, indeed. She +was none such heroical, rebellious trumpery, I’ll warrant ye. On +the contrary, she acquiesced like an obedient daughter, shut the +street door in her lover’s face, and if ever she did grant him an +interview, it was either out of the kitchen window or over the +garden fence. + +Wolfert was deeply cogitating these matters in his mind, and his +brow wrinkled with unusual care, as he wended his way one Saturday +afternoon to a rural inn, about two miles from the city. It was a +favorite resort of the Dutch part of the community, from being +always held by a Dutch line of landlords, and retaining an air and +relish of the good old times. It was a Dutch-built house, that had +probably been a country seat of some opulent burgher in the early +time of the settlement. It stood near a point of land called +Corlear’s Hook,[1] which stretches out into the Sound, and against +which the tide, at its flux and reflux, sets with extraordinary +rapidity. The venerable and somewhat crazy mansion was +distinguished from afar by a grove of elms and sycamores that +seemed to wave a hospitable invitation, while a few weeping +willows, with their dank, drooping foliage, resembling falling +waters, gave an idea of coolness that rendered it an attractive +spot during the heats of summer. + + +[1] A point of land at the bend of the East River below Grand +Street, New York City. + + +Here, therefore, as I said, resorted many of the old inhabitants of +the Manhattoes, where, while some played at shuffleboard[1] and +quoits,[2] and ninepins, others smoked a deliberate pipe, and +talked over public affairs. + + +[1] A game played by pushing or shaking pieces of money or metal so +as to make them reach certain marks on a board. + +[2] A game played by pitching a flattened, ring-shaped piece of +iron, called a quoit, at a fixed object. + + +It was on a blustering autumnal afternoon that Wolfert made his +visit to the inn. The grove of elms and willows was stripped of +its leaves, which whirled in rustling eddies about the fields. The +ninepin alley was deserted, for the premature chilliness of the day +had driven the company within doors. As it was Saturday afternoon +the habitual club was in session, composed principally of regular +Dutch burghers, though mingled occasionally with persons of various +character and country, as is natural in a place of such motley +population. + +Beside the fireplace, in a huge, leather-bottomed armchair, sat the +dictator of this little world, the venerable Rem, or, as it was +pronounced, “Ramm” Rapelye. He was a man of Walloon[1] race, and +illustrious for the antiquity of his line, his great-grandmother +having been the first white child born in the province. But he was +still more illustrious for his wealth and dignity. He had long +filled the noble office of alderman, and was a man to whom the +governor himself took off his hat. He had maintained possession of +the leather-bottomed chair from time immemorial, and had gradually +waxed in bulk as he sat in his seat of government, until in the +course of years he filled its whole magnitude. His word was +decisive with his subjects, for he was so rich a man that he was +never expected to support any opinion by argument. The landlord +waited on him with peculiar officiousness,—not that he paid better +than his neighbors, but then the coin of a rich man seems always to +be so much more acceptable. The landlord had ever a pleasant word +and a joke to insinuate in the ear of the august Ramm. It is true +Ramm never laughed, and, indeed, ever maintained a mastiff-like +gravity and even surliness of aspect; yet he now and then rewarded +mine host with a token of approbation, which, though nothing more +nor less than a kind of grunt, still delighted the landlord more +than a broad laugh from a poorer man. + + +[1] A people of French origin, inhabiting the frontiers between +France and Flanders. A colony of one hundred and ten Walloons came +to New York in 1624. + + +“This will be a rough night for the money diggers,” said mine host, +as a gust of wind bowled round the house and rattled at the +windows. + +“What! are they at their works again?” said an English half-pay +captain, with one eye, who was a very frequent attendant at the +inn. + +“Aye are they,” said the landlord, “and well may they be. They’ve +had luck of late. They say a great pot of money has been dug up in +the fields just behind Stuyvesant’s orchard. Folks think it must +have been buried there in old times by Peter Stuyvesant, the Dutch +governor.” + +“Fudge!” said the one-eyed man of war, as he added a small portion +of water to a bottom of brandy. + +“Well, you may believe it or not, as you please,” said mine host, +somewhat nettled, “but everybody knows that the old governor buried +a great deal of his money at the time of the Dutch troubles, when +the English redcoats seized on the province. They say, too, the +old gentleman walks, aye, and in the very same dress that he wears +in the picture that hangs up in the family house.” + +“Fudge!” said the half-pay officer. + +“Fudge, if you please! But didn’t Corney Van Zandt see him at +midnight, stalking about in the meadow with his wooden leg, and a +drawn sword in his hand, that flashed like fire? And what can he +be walking for but because people have been troubling the place +where he buried his money in old times?” + +Here the landlord was interrupted by several guttural sounds from +Ramm Rapelye, betokening that he was laboring with the unusual +production of an idea. As he was too great a man to be slighted by +a prudent publican, mine host respectfully paused until he should +deliver himself. The corpulent frame of this mighty burgher now +gave all the symptoms of a volcanic mountain on the point of an +eruption. First there was a certain heaving of the abdomen, not +unlike an earthquake; then was emitted a cloud of tobacco smoke +from that crater, his mouth; then there was a kind of rattle in the +throat, as if the idea were working its way up through a region of +phlegm; then there were several disjointed members of a sentence +thrown out, ending in a cough; at length his voice forced its way +into a slow, but absolute tone of a man who feels the weight of his +purse, if not of his ideas, every portion of his speech being +marked by a testy puff of tobacco smoke. + +“Who talks of old Peter Stuyvesant’s walking? (puff). Have people +no respect for persons? (puff—puff). Peter Stuyvesant knew better +what to do with his money than to bury it (puff). I know the +Stuyvesant family (puff), every one of them (puff); not a more +respectable family in the province (puff)—old standards (puff)— +warm householders (puff)—none of your upstarts (puff—puff—puff). +Don’t talk to me of Peter Stuyvesant’s walking (puff—puff—puff— +puff).” + +Here the redoubtable Ramm contracted his brow, clasped up his mouth +till it wrinkled at each corner, and redoubled his smoking with +such vehemence that the cloudy volumes soon wreathed round his +head, as the smoke envelops the awful summit of Mount Aetna. + +A general silence followed the sudden rebuke of this very rich man. +The subject, however, was too interesting to be readily abandoned. +The conversation soon broke forth again from the lips of Peechy +Prauw Van Hook, the chronicler of the club, one of those prosing, +narrative old men who seem to be troubled with an incontinence of +words as they grow old. + +Peechy could, at any time, tell as many stories in an evening as +his hearers could digest in a month. He now resumed the +conversation by affirming that, to his knowledge, money had, at +different times, been digged up in various parts of the island. +The lucky persons who had discovered them had always dreamed of +them three times beforehand, and, what was worthy of remark, those +treasures had never been found but by some descendant of the good +old Dutch families, which clearly proved that they had been buried +by Dutchmen in the olden time. + +“Fiddlestick with your Dutchmen!” cried the half-pay officer. “The +Dutch had nothing to do with them. They were all buried by Kidd +the pirate, and his crew.” + +Here a keynote was touched that roused the whole company. The name +of Captain Kidd was like a talisman in those times, and was +associated with a thousand marvelous stories. + +The half-pay officer took the lead, and in his narrations fathered +upon Kidd all the plunderings and exploits of Morgan,[1] +Blackbeard,[2] and the whole list of bloody buccaneers. + + +[1] Sir Henry Morgan (1637–90), a noted Welsh buccaneer. He was +captured and sent to England for trial, but Charles II., instead of +punishing him, knighted him, and subsequently appointed him +governor of Jamaica. + +[2] Edward Teach, one of the most cruel of the pirates, took +command of a pirate ship in 1717, and thereafter committed all +sorts of atrocities until he was slain by Lieutenant Maynard in +1718. His nickname of “Blackbeard” was given him because of his +black beard. + + +The officer was a man of great weight among the peaceable members +of the club, by reason of his warlike character and gunpowder +tales. All his golden stories of Kidd, however, and of the booty +he had buried, were obstinately rivaled by the tales of Peechy +Prauw, who, rather than suffer his Dutch progenitors to be eclipsed +by a foreign freebooter, enriched every field and shore in the +neighborhood with the hidden wealth of Peter Stuyvesant and his +contemporaries. + +Not a word of this conversation was lost upon Wolfert Webber. He +returned pensively home, full of magnificent ideas. The soil of +his native island seemed to be turned into gold dust, and every +field to teem with treasure. His head almost reeled at the thought +how often he must have heedlessly rambled over places where +countless sums lay, scarcely covered by the turf beneath his feet. +His mind was in an uproar with this whirl of new ideas. As he came +in sight of the venerable mansion of his forefathers, and the +little realm where the Webbers had so long and so contentedly +flourished, his gorge rose at the narrowness of his destiny. + +“Unlucky Wolfert!” exclaimed he; “others can go to bed and dream +themselves into whole mines of wealth; they have but to seize a +spade in the morning, and turn up doubloons[1] like potatoes; but +thou must dream of hardships, and rise to poverty, must dig thy +field from year’s end to year’s end, and yet raise nothing but +cabbages!” + + +[1] Spanish gold coins, equivalent to $15.60. + + +Wolfert Webber went to bed with a heavy heart, and it was long +before the golden visions that disturbed his brain permitted him to +sink into repose. The same visions, however, extended into his +sleeping thoughts, and assumed a more definite form. He dreamed +that he had discovered an immense treasure in the center of his +garden. At every stroke of the spade he laid bare a golden ingot; +diamond crosses sparkled out of the dust; bags of money turned up +their bellies, corpulent with pieces-of-eight[1] or venerable +doubloons; and chests wedged close with moidores,[2] ducats,[3] and +pistareens,[4] yawned before his ravished eyes, and vomited forth +their glittering contents. + + +[1] Spanish coins, worth about $1 each. +[2] Portuguese gold coins, valued at $6.50. +[3] Coins of gold and silver, valued at $2 and $1 respectively. +[4] Spanish silver coins, worth about $.20. + + +Wolfert awoke a poorer man than ever. He had no heart to go about +his daily concerns, which appeared so paltry and profitless, but +sat all day long in the chimney corner, picturing to himself ingots +and heaps of gold in the fire. The next night his dream was +repeated. He was again in his garden digging, and laying open +stores of hidden wealth. There was something very singular in this +repetition. He passed another day of reverie, and though it was +cleaning day, and the house, as usual in Dutch households, +completely topsy-turvy, yet he sat unmoved amidst the general +uproar. + +The third night he went to bed with a palpitating heart. He put on +his red nightcap wrong side outward, for good luck. It was deep +midnight before his anxious mind could settle itself into sleep. +Again the golden dream was repeated, and again he saw his garden +teeming with ingots and money bags. + +Wolfert rose the next morning in complete bewilderment. A dream, +three times repeated, was never known to lie, and if so, his +fortune was made. + +In his agitation he put on his waistcoat with the hind part before, +and this was a corroboration of good luck.[1] He no longer doubted +that a huge store of money lay buried somewhere in his cabbage +field, coyly waiting to be sought for, and he repined at having so +long been scratching about the surface of the soil instead of +digging to the center. + + +[1] It is an old superstition that to put on one’s clothes wrong +side out forebodes good luck. + + +He took his seat at the breakfast table, full of these +speculations, asked his daughter to put a lump of gold into his +tea, and on handing his wife a plate of slapjacks, begged her to +help herself to a doubloon. + +His grand care now was how to secure this immense treasure without +its being known. Instead of his working regularly in his grounds +in the daytime, he now stole from his bed at night, and with spade +and pickax went to work to rip up and dig about his paternal acres, +from one end to the other. In a little time the whole garden, +which had presented such a goodly and regular appearance, with its +phalanx of cabbages, like a vegetable army in battle array, was +reduced to a scene of devastation, while the relentless Wolfert, +with nightcap on head and lantern and spade in hand, stalked +through the slaughtered ranks, the destroying angel of his own +vegetable world. + +Every morning bore testimony to the ravages of the preceding night +in cabbages of all ages and conditions, from the tender sprout to +the full-grown head, piteously rooted from their quiet beds like +worthless weeds, and left to wither in the sunshine. In vain +Wolfert’s wife remonstrated; in vain his darling daughter wept over +the destruction of some favorite marigold. “Thou shalt have gold +of another-guess[1] sort,” he would cry, chucking her under the +chin; “thou shalt have a string of crooked ducats for thy wedding +necklace, my child.” His family began really to fear that the poor +man’s wits were diseased. He muttered in his sleep at night about +mines of wealth, about pearls and diamonds, and bars of gold. In +the daytime he was moody and abstracted, and walked about as if in +a trance. Dame Webber held frequent councils with all the old +women of the neighborhood; scarce an hour in the day but a knot of +them might be seen wagging their white caps together round her +door, while the poor woman made some piteous recital. The +daughter, too, was fain to seek for more frequent consolation from +the stolen interviews of her favored swain, Dirk Waldron. The +delectable little Dutch songs with which she used to dulcify the +house grew less and less frequent, and she would forget her sewing, +and look wistfully in her father’s face as he sat pondering by the +fireside. Wolfert caught her eye one day fixed on him thus +anxiously, and for a moment was roused from his golden reveries. +“Cheer up, my girl,” said he exultingly; “why dost thou droop? +Thou shalt hold up thy head one day with the Brinckerhoffs, and the +Schermerhorns, the Van Hornes, and the Van Dams.[2] By St. +Nicholas, but the patroon[3] himself shall be glad to get thee for +his son!” + + +[1] A corruption of the old expression “another-gates,” or “of +another gate,” meaning “of another way or manner”; hence, “of +another kind.” + +[2] Names of rich and influential Dutch families in the old Dutch +colony of New Amsterdam. + +[3] The patroons were members of the Dutch West India Company, who +purchased land in New Netherlands of the Indians, and after +fulfilling certain conditions imposed with a view to colonizing +their territory, enjoyed feudal rights similar to those of the +barons of the Middle Ages. + + +Amy shook her head at his vainglorious boast, and was more than +ever in doubt of the soundness of the good man’s intellect. + +In the meantime Wolfert went on digging and digging; but the field +was extensive, and as his dream had indicated no precise spot, he +had to dig at random. The winter set in before one tenth of the +scene of promise had been explored. + +The ground became frozen hard, and the nights too cold for the +labors of the spade. + +No sooner, however, did the returning warmth of spring loosen the +soil, and the small frogs begin to pipe in the meadows, but Wolfert +resumed his labors with renovated zeal. Still, however, the hours +of industry were reversed. + +Instead of working cheerily all day, planting and setting out his +vegetables, he remained thoughtfully idle, until the shades of +night summoned him to his secret labors. In this way he continued +to dig from night to night, and week to week, and month to month, +but not a stiver[1] did he find. On the contrary, the more he +digged the poorer he grew. The rich soil of his garden was digged +away, and the sand and gravel from beneath was thrown to the +surface, until the whole field presented an aspect of sandy +barrenness. + + +[1] A Dutch coin, worth about two cents; hence, anything of little +worth. + + +In the meantime, the seasons gradually rolled on. The little frogs +which had piped in the meadows in early spring croaked as bullfrogs +during the summer heats, and then sank into silence. The peach +tree budded, blossomed, and bore its fruit. The swallows and +martins came, twittered about the roof, built their nests, reared +their young, held their congress along the eaves, and then winged +their flight in search of another spring. The caterpillar spun its +winding sheet, dangled in it from the great buttonwood tree before +the house, turned into a moth, fluttered with the last sunshine of +summer, and disappeared; and finally the leaves of the buttonwood +tree turned yellow, then brown, then rustled one by one to the +ground, and whirling about in little eddies of wind and dust, +whispered that winter was at hand. + +Wolfert gradually woke from his dream of wealth as the year +declined. He had reared no crop for the supply of his household +during the sterility of winter. The season was long and severe, +and for the first time the family was really straitened in its +comforts. By degrees a revulsion of thought took place in +Wolfert’s mind, common to those whose golden dreams have been +disturbed by pinching realities. The idea gradually stole upon him +that he should come to want. He already considered himself one of +the most unfortunate men in the province, having lost such an +incalculable amount of undiscovered treasure, and now, when +thousands of pounds had eluded his search, to be perplexed for +shillings and pence was cruel in the extreme. + +Haggard care gathered about his brow; he went about with a money- +seeking air, his eyes bent downward into the dust, and carrying his +hands in his pockets, as men are apt to do when they have nothing +else to put into them. He could not even pass the city almshouse +without giving it a rueful glance, as if destined to be his future +abode. + +The strangeness of his conduct and of his looks occasioned much +speculation and remark. For a long time he was suspected of being +crazy, and then everybody pitied him; and at length it began to be +suspected that he was poor, and then everybody avoided him. + +The rich old burghers of his acquaintance met him outside the door +when he called, entertained him hospitably on the threshold, +pressed him warmly by the hand at parting, shook their heads as he +walked away, with the kindhearted expression of “poor Wolfert,” and +turned a corner nimbly if by chance they saw him approaching as +they walked the streets. Even the barber and the cobbler of the +neighborhood, and a tattered tailor in an alley hard by, three of +the poorest and merriest rogues in the world, eyed him with that +abundant sympathy which usually attends a lack of means, and there +is not a doubt but their pockets would have been at his command, +only that they happened to be empty. + +Thus everybody deserted the Webber mansion, as if poverty were +contagious, like the plague—everybody but honest Dirk Waldron, who +still kept up his stolen visits to the daughter, and indeed seemed +to wax more affectionate as the fortunes of his mistress were on +the wane. + +Many months had elapsed since Wolfert had frequented his old +resort, the rural inn. He was taking a long, lonely walk one +Saturday afternoon, musing over his wants and disappointments, when +his feet took instinctively their wonted direction, and on awaking +out of a reverie, he found himself before the door of the inn. For +some moments he hesitated whether to enter, but his heart yearned +for companionship, and where can a ruined man find better +companionship than at a tavern, where there is neither sober +example nor sober advice to put him out of countenance? + +Wolfert found several of the old frequenters of the inn at their +usual posts and seated in their usual places; but one was missing, +the great Ramm Rapelye, who for many years had filled the leather- +bottomed chair of state. His place was supplied by a stranger, who +seemed, however, completely at home in the chair and the tavern. +He was rather under size, but deep-chested, square, and muscular. +His broad shoulders, double joints, and bow knees gave tokens of +prodigious strength. His face was dark and weather-beaten; a deep +scar, as if from the slash of a cutlass, had almost divided his +nose, and made a gash in his upper lip, through which his teeth +shone like a bulldog’s. A mop of iron-gray hair gave a grisly +finish to this hard-favored visage. His dress was of an amphibious +character. He wore an old hat edged with tarnished lace, and +cocked in martial style on one side of his head; a rusty[1] blue +military coat with brass buttons; and a wide pair of short +petticoat trousers,—or rather breeches, for they were gathered up +at the knees. He ordered everybody about him with an authoritative +air, talking in a brattling[2] voice that sounded like the +crackling of thorns under a pot, d—d the landlord and servants +with perfect impunity, and was waited upon with greater +obsequiousness than had ever been shown to the mighty Ramm himself. + + +[1] Shabby. + +[2] Noisy. + + +Wolfert’s curiosity was awakened to know who and what was this +stranger who had thus usurped absolute sway in this ancient domain. +Peechy Prauw took him aside into a remote corner of the hall, and +there, in an under voice and with great caution, imparted to him +all that he knew on the subject. The inn had been aroused several +months before, on a dark, stormy night, by repeated long shouts +that seemed like the howlings of a wolf. They came from the water +side, and at length were distinguished to be hailing the house in +the seafaring manner, “House ahoy!” The landlord turned out with +his head waiter, tapster, hostler, and errand boy—that is to say, +with his old negro Cuff. On approaching the place whence the voice +proceeded, they found this amphibious-looking personage at the +water’s edge, quite alone, and seated on a great oaken sea chest. +How he came there,—whether he had been set on shore from some +boat, or had floated to land on his chest,—nobody could tell, for +he did not seem disposed to answer questions, and there was +something in his looks and manners that put a stop to all +questioning. Suffice it to say, he took possession of a corner +room of the inn, to which his chest was removed with great +difficulty. Here he had remained ever since, keeping about the inn +and its vicinity. Sometimes, it is true, he disappeared for one, +two, or three days at a time, going and returning without giving +any notice or account of his movements. He always appeared to have +plenty of money, though often of very strange, outlandish coinage, +and he regularly paid his bill every evening before turning in. + +He had fitted up his room to his own fancy, having slung a hammock +from the ceiling instead of a bed, and decorated the walls with +rusty pistols and cutlasses of foreign workmanship. A greater part +of his time was passed in this room, seated by the window, which +commanded a wide view of the Sound, a short, old-fashioned pipe in +his mouth, a glass of rum toddy[1] at his elbow, and a pocket +telescope in his hand, with which he reconnoitered every boat that +moved upon the water. Large square-rigged vessels seemed to excite +but little attention; but the moment he descried anything with a +shoulder-of-mutton[2] sail, or that a barge or yawl or jolly-boat +hove in sight, up went the telescope, and he examined it with the +most scrupulous attention. + + +[1] A mixture of rum and hot water sweetened. + +[2] Triangular. + + +All this might have passed without much notice, for in those times +the province was so much the resort of adventurers of all +characters and climes that any oddity in dress or behavior +attracted but small attention. In a little while, however, this +strange sea monster, thus strangely cast upon dry land, began to +encroach upon the long established customs and customers of the +place, and to interfere in a dictatorial manner in the affairs of +the ninepin alley and the barroom, until in the end he usurped an +absolute command over the whole inn. It was all in vain to attempt +to withstand his authority. He was not exactly quarrelsome, but +boisterous and peremptory, like one accustomed to tyrannize on a +quarter-deck; and there was a dare-devil[1] air about everything he +said and did that inspired wariness in all bystanders. Even the +half-pay officer, so long the hero of the club, was soon silenced +by him, and the quiet burghers stared with wonder at seeing their +inflammable man of war so readily and quietly extinguished. + + +[1] Reckless. + + +And then the tales that he would tell were enough to make a +peaceable man’s hair stand on end. There was not a sea fight, nor +marauding nor freebooting adventure that had happened within the +last twenty years, but he seemed perfectly versed in it. He +delighted to talk of the exploits of the buccaneers in the West +Indies and on the Spanish Main.[1] How his eyes would glisten as +he described the waylaying of treasure ships; the desperate fights, +yardarm and yardarm,[2] broadside and broadside;[3] the boarding +and capturing huge Spanish galleons! With what chuckling relish +would he describe the descent upon some rich Spanish colony, the +rifling of a church, the sacking of a convent! You would have +thought you heard some gormandizer dilating upon the roasting of a +savory goose at Michaelmas,[4] as he described the roasting of some +Spanish don to make him discover his treasure,—a detail given with +a minuteness that made every rich old burgher present turn +uncomfortably in his chair. All this would be told with infinite +glee, as if he considered it an excellent joke, and then he would +give such a tyrannical leer in the face of his next neighbor that +the poor man would be fain to laugh out of sheer faint-heartedness. +If anyone, however, pretended to contradict him in any of his +stories, he was on fire in an instant. His very cocked hat assumed +a momentary fierceness, and seemed to resent the contradiction. +“How the devil should you know as well as I? I tell you it was as +I say;” and he would at the same time let slip a broadside of +thundering oaths[5] and tremendous sea phrases, such as had never +been heard before within these peaceful walls. + + +[1] The coast of the northern part of South America along the +Caribbean Sea, the route formerly traversed by the Spanish treasure +ships between the Old and New Worlds. + +[2] Ships are said to be yardarm and yardarm when so near as to +touch or interlock their yards, which are the long pieces of timber +designed to support and extend the square sails. + +[3] “Broadside and broadside,” i.e., with the side of one ship +touching that of another. + +[4] The Feast of the Archangel Michael, a church festival +celebrated on September 29th. + +[5] “Broadside of thundering oaths,” i.e., a volley of abuse. + + +Indeed, the worthy burghers began to surmise that he knew more of +those stories than mere hearsay. Day after day their conjectures +concerning him grew more and more wild and fearful. The +strangeness of his arrival, the strangeness of his manners, the +mystery that surrounded him,—all made him something +incomprehensible in their eyes. He was a kind of monster of the +deep to them; he was a merman, he was a behemoth, he was a +leviathan,—in short, they knew not what he was. + +The domineering spirit of this boisterous sea urchin at length grew +quite intolerable. He was no respecter of persons; he contradicted +the richest burghers without hesitation; he took possession of the +sacred elbow chair, which time out of mind had been the seat of +sovereignty of the illustrious Ramm Rapelye. Nay, he even went so +far, in one of his rough, jocular moods, as to slap that mighty +burgher on the back, drink his toddy, and wink in his face,—a +thing scarcely to be believed. From this time Ramm Rapelye +appeared no more at the inn. His example was followed by several +of the most eminent customers, who were too rich to tolerate being +bullied out of their opinions or being obliged to laugh at another +man’s jokes. The landlord was almost in despair; but he knew not +how to get rid of this sea monster and his sea chest, who seemed +both to have grown like fixtures, or excrescences on his +establishment. + +Such was the account whispered cautiously in Wolfert’s ear by the +narrator, Peechy Prauw, as he held him by the button in a corner of +the hall, casting a wary glance now and then toward the door of the +barroom, lest he should be overheard by the terrible hero of his +tale. + +Wolfert took his seat in a remote part of the room in silence, +impressed with profound awe of this unknown, so versed in +freebooting history. It was to him a wonderful instance of the +revolutions of mighty empires, to find the venerable Ramm Rapelye +thus ousted from the throne, and a rugged tarpaulin[1] dictating +from his elbow chair, hectoring the patriarchs, and filling this +tranquil little realm with brawl and bravado. + + +[1] A kind of canvas used about a ship; hence, a sailor. + + +The stranger was, on this evening, in a more than usually +communicative mood, and was narrating a number of astounding +stories of plunderings and burnings on the high seas. He dwelt +upon them with peculiar relish, heightening the frightful +particulars in proportion to their effect on his peaceful auditors. +He gave a swaggering detail of the capture of a Spanish +merchantman. She was lying becalmed during a long summer’s day, +just off from the island which was one of the lurking places of the +pirates. They had reconnoitered her with their spyglasses from the +shore, and ascertained her character and force. At night a picked +crew of daring fellows set off for her in a whaleboat. They +approached with muffled oars, as she lay rocking idly with the +undulations of the sea, and her sails flapping against the masts. +They were close under the stern before the guard on deck was aware +of their approach. The alarm was given; the pirates threw hand +grenades[1] on deck, and sprang up the main chains,[2] sword in +hand. + + +[1] “Hand grenades,” i.e., small shells of iron or glass filled +with gunpowder and thrown by hand. + +[2] “Main chains,” i.e., strong bars of iron bolted at the lower +end to the side of a vessel, and secured at the upper end to the +iron straps of the blocks by which the shrouds supporting the masts +are extended. + + +The crew flew to arms, but in great confusion; some were shot down, +others took refuge in the tops, others were driven overboard and +drowned, while others fought hand to hand from the main deck to the +quarter-deck, disputing gallantly every inch of ground. There were +three Spanish gentlemen on board, with their ladies, who made the +most desperate resistance. They defended the companion way,[1] cut +down several of their assailants, and fought like very devils, for +they were maddened by the shrieks of the ladies from the cabin. +One of the dons was old, and soon dispatched. The other two kept +their ground vigorously, even though the captain of the pirates was +among their assailants. Just then there was a shout of victory +from the main deck. “The ship is ours!” cried the pirates. + + +[1] The companion way is a staircase leading to the cabin of a +ship. + + +One of the dons immediately dropped his sword and surrendered; the +other, who was a hot-headed youngster, and just married, gave the +captain a slash in the face that laid all open. The captain just +made out to articulate the words, “No quarter.” + +“And what did they do with their prisoners?” said Peechy Prauw +eagerly. + +“Threw them all overboard,” was the answer. A dead pause followed +the reply. Peechy Prauw sank quietly back, like a man who had +unwarily stolen upon the lair of a sleeping lion. The honest +burghers cast fearful glances at the deep scar slashed across the +visage of the stranger, and moved their chairs a little farther +off. The seaman, however, smoked on without moving a muscle, as +though he either did not perceive, or did not regard, the +unfavorable effect he had produced upon his hearers. + +The half-pay officer was the first to break the silence, for he was +continually tempted to make ineffectual head against this tyrant of +the seas, and to regain his lost consequence in the eyes of his +ancient companions. He now tried to match the gunpowder tales of +the stranger by others equally tremendous. Kidd, as usual, was his +hero, concerning whom he seemed to have picked up many of the +floating traditions of the province. The seaman had always evinced +a settled pique against the one-eyed warrior. On this occasion he +listened with peculiar impatience. He sat with one arm akimbo, the +other elbow on the table, the hand holding on to the small pipe he +was pettishly puffing, his legs crossed, drumming with one foot on +the ground, and casting every now and then the side glance of a +basilisk at the prosing captain. At length the latter spoke of +Kidd’s having ascended the Hudson with some of his crew, to land +his plunder in secrecy. + +“Kidd up the Hudson!” burst forth the seaman, with a tremendous +oath; “Kidd never was up the Hudson!” + +“I tell you he was,” said the other. “Aye, and they say he buried +a quantity of treasure on the little flat that runs out into the +river, called the Devil’s Dans Kammer.”[1] + + +[1] A huge, flat rock, projecting into the Hudson River above the +Highlands. + + +“The Devil’s Dans Kammer in your teeth!”[1] cried the seaman. “I +tell you Kidd never was up the Hudson. What a plague do you know +of Kidd and his haunts?” + + +[1] “In your teeth,” a phrase to denote direct opposition or +defiance. + + +“What do I know?” echoed the half-pay officer. “Why, I was in +London at the time of his trial; aye, and I had the pleasure of +seeing him hanged at Execution Dock.” + +“Then, sir, let me tell you that you saw as pretty a fellow hanged +as ever trod shoe leather. Aye!” putting his face nearer to that +of the officer, “and there was many a landlubber[1] looked on that +might much better have swung in his stead.” + + +[1] A term of contempt used by seamen for those who pass their +lives on land. + + +The half-pay officer was silenced; but the indignation thus pent up +in his bosom glowed with intense vehemence in his single eye, which +kindled like a coal. + +Peechy Prauw, who never could remain silent, observed that the +gentleman certainly was in the right. Kidd never did bury money up +the Hudson, nor indeed in any of those parts, though many affirmed +such to be the fact. It was Bradish[1] and others of the +buccaneers who had buried money, some said in Turtle Bay,[2] others +on Long Island, others in the neighborhood of Hell Gate. “Indeed,” +added he, “I recollect an adventure of Sam, the negro fisherman, +many years ago, which some think had something to do with the +buccaneers. As we are all friends here, and as it will go no +further, I’ll tell it to you. + + +[1] Bradish was a pirate whose actions were blended in the popular +mind with those of Kidd. He was boatswain of a ship which sailed +from England in 1697, and which, like Kidd’s, bore the name of the +Adventure. In the absence of the captain on shore, he seized the +ship and set out on a piratical cruise. After amassing a fortune, +he sailed for America and deposited a large amount of his wealth +with a confederate on Long Island. He was apprehended in Rhode +Island, sent to England, and executed. + +[2] A small cove in the East River two miles north of Corlear’s +Hook. + + +“Upon a dark night many years ago, as Black Sam was returning from +fishing in Hell Gate—” + +Here the story was nipped in the bud by a sudden movement from the +unknown, who, laying his iron fist on the table, knuckles downward, +with a quiet force that indented the very boards, and looking +grimly over his shoulder, with the grin of an angry bear,— +“Hearkee, neighbor,” said he, with significant nodding of the head, +“you’d better let the buccaneers and their money alone; they’re not +for old men and old women to meddle with. They fought hard for +their money—they gave body and soul for it; and wherever it lies +buried, depend upon it he must have a tug with the devil who gets +it! + +This sudden explosion was succeeded by a blank silence throughout +the room. Peechy Prauw shrunk within himself, and even the one- +eyed officer turned pale. Wolfert, who from a dark corner of the +room had listened with intense eagerness to all this talk about +buried treasure, looked with mingled awe and reverence at this bold +buccaneer, for such he really suspected him to be. There was a +chinking of gold and a sparkling of jewels in all his stories about +the Spanish Main that gave a value to every period, and Wolfert +would have given anything for the rummaging of the ponderous sea +chest, which his imagination crammed full of golden chalices, +crucifixes, and jolly round bags of doubloons. + +The dead stillness that had fallen upon the company was at length +interrupted by the stranger, who pulled out a prodigious watch of +curious and ancient workmanship, and which in Wolfert’s eyes had a +decidedly Spanish look. On touching a spring, it struck ten +o’clock, upon which the sailor called for his reckoning, and having +paid it out of a handful of outlandish coin, he drank off the +remainder of his beverage, and without taking leave of anyone, +rolled out of the room, muttering to himself as he stamped upstairs +to his chamber. + +It was some time before the company could recover from the silence +into which they had been thrown. The very footsteps of the +stranger, which were heard now and then as he traversed his +chamber, inspired awe. + +Still the conversation in which they had been engaged was too +interesting not to be resumed. A heavy thunder gust had gathered +up unnoticed while they were lost in talk, and the torrents of rain +that fell forbade all thoughts of setting off for home until the +storm should subside. They drew nearer together, therefore, and +entreated the worthy Peechy Prauw to continue the tale which had +been so discourteously interrupted. He readily complied, +whispering, however, in a tone scarcely above his breath, and +drowned occasionally by the rolling of the thunder; and he would +pause every now and then and listen, with evident awe, as he heard +the heavy footsteps of the stranger pacing overhead. The following +is the purport of his story: + + + + +Adventure of the Black Fisherman + + +Everybody knows Black Sam, the old negro fisherman, or, as he is +commonly called, “Mud Sam,” who has fished about the Sound for the +last half century. It is now many years since Sam, who was then as +active a young negro as any in the province, and worked on the farm +of Killian Suydam on Long Island, having finished his day’s work at +an early hour, was fishing, one still summer evening, just about +the neighborhood of Hell Gate. + +He was in a light skiff, and being well acquainted with the +currents and eddies, had shifted his station, according to the +shifting of the tide, from the Hen and Chickens to the Hog’s Back, +from the Hog’s Back to the Pot, and from the Pot to the Frying Pan; +but in the eagerness of his sport he did not see that the tide was +rapidly ebbing, until the roaring of the whirlpools and eddies +warned him of his danger, and he had some difficulty in shooting +his skiff from among the rocks and breakers, and getting to the +point of Blackwell’s Island.[1] Here he cast anchor for some time, +waiting the turn of the tide to enable him to return homeward. As +the night set in, it grew blustering and gusty. Dark clouds came +bundling up in the west, and now and then a growl of thunder or a +flash of lightning told that a summer storm was at hand. Sam +pulled over, therefore, under the lee of Manhattan Island, and, +coasting along, came to a snug nook, just under a steep, beetling +rock, where he fastened his skiff to the root of a tree that shot +out from a cleft, and spread its broad branches like a canopy over +the water. The gust came scouring along, the wind threw up the +river in white surges, the rain rattled among the leaves, the +thunder bellowed worse than that which is now bellowing, the +lightning seemed to lick up the surges of the stream; but Sam, +snugly sheltered under rock and tree, lay crouching in his skiff, +rocking upon the billows until he fell asleep. + + +[1] A long, narrow island in the East River, between New York and +Long Island City. + + +When he woke all was quiet. The gust had passed away, and only now +and then a faint gleam of lightning in the east showed which way it +had gone. The night was dark and moonless, and from the state of +the tide Sam concluded it was near midnight. He was on the point +of making loose his skiff to return homeward when he saw a light +gleaming along the water from a distance, which seemed rapidly +approaching. As it drew near he perceived it came from a lantern +in the bow of a boat gliding along under shadow of the land. It +pulled up in a small cove close to where he was. A man jumped on +shore, and searching about with the lantern, exclaimed, “This is +the place—here’s the iron ring.” The boat was then made fast, and +the man, returning on board, assisted his comrades in conveying +something heavy on shore. As the light gleamed among them, Sam saw +that they were five stout, desperate-looking fellows, in red woolen +caps, with a leader in a three-cornered hat, and that some of them +were armed with dirks, or long knives, and pistols. They talked +low to one another, and occasionally in some outlandish tongue +which he could not understand. + +On landing they made their way among the bushes, taking turns to +relieve each other in lugging their burden up the rocky bank. +Sam’s curiosity was now fully aroused, so leaving his skiff he +clambered silently up a ridge that overlooked their path. They had +stopped to rest for a moment, and the leader was looking about +among the bushes with his lantern. “Have you brought the spades?” +said one. “They are here,” replied another, who had them on his +shoulder. “We must dig deep, where there will be no risk of +discovery,” said a third. + +A cold chill ran through Sam’s veins. He fancied he saw before him +a gang of murderers, about to bury their victim. His knees smote +together. In his agitation he shook the branch of a tree with +which he was supporting himself as he looked over the edge of the +cliff. + +“What’s that?” cried one of the gang. “Some one stirs among the +bushes!” + +The lantern was held up in the direction of the noise. One of the +red-caps cocked a pistol, and pointed it toward the very place +where Sam was standing. He stood motionless, breathless, expecting +the next moment to be his last. Fortunately his dingy complexion +was in his favor, and made no glare among the leaves. + +“’Tis no one,” said the man with the lantern. “What a plague! you +would not fire off your pistol and alarm the country!” + +The pistol was uncocked, the burden was resumed, and the party +slowly toiled along the bank. Sam watched them as they went, the +light sending back fitful gleams through the dripping bushes, and +it was not till they were fairly out of sight that he ventured to +draw breath freely. He now thought of getting back to his boat, +and making his escape out of the reach of such dangerous neighbors; +but curiosity was all-powerful. He hesitated, and lingered, and +listened. By and by he heard the strokes of spades. “They are +digging the grave!” said he to himself, and the cold sweat started +upon his forehead. Every stroke of a spade, as it sounded through +the silent groves, went to his heart. It was evident there was as +little noise made as possible; everything had an air of terrible +mystery and secrecy. Sam had a great relish for the horrible; a +tale of murder was a treat for him, and he was a constant attendant +at executions. He could not resist an impulse, in spite of every +danger, to steal nearer to the scene of mystery, and overlook the +midnight fellows at their work. He crawled along cautiously, +therefore, inch by inch, stepping with the utmost care among the +dry leaves, lest their rustling should betray him. He came at +length to where a steep rock intervened between him and the gang, +for he saw the light of their lantern shining up against the +branches of the trees on the other side. Sam slowly and silently +clambered up the surface of the rock, and raising his head above +its naked edge, beheld the villains immediately below him, and so +near that though he dreaded discovery he dared not withdraw lest +the least movement should be heard. In this way he remained, with +his round black face peering above the edge of the rock, like the +sun just emerging above the edge of the horizon, or the round- +cheeked moon on the dial of a clock. + +The red-caps had nearly finished their work, the grave was filled +up, and they were carefully replacing the turf. This done they +scattered dry leaves over the place. “And now,” said the leader, +“I defy the devil himself to find it out.” + +“The murderers!” exclaimed Sam involuntarily. + +The whole gang started, and looking up beheld the round black head +of Sam just above them, his white eyes strained half out of their +orbits, his white teeth chattering, and his whole visage shining +with cold perspiration. + +“We’re discovered!” cried one. + +“Down with him!” cried another. + +Sam heard the cocking of a pistol, but did not pause for the +report. He scrambled over rock and stone, through brush and brier, +rolled down banks like a hedgehog, scrambled up others like a +catamount. In every direction he heard some one or other of the +gang hemming him in. At length he reached the rocky ridge along +the river; one of the red-caps was hard behind him. A steep rock +like a wall rose directly in his way; it seemed to cut off all +retreat, when fortunately he espied the strong, cord-like branch of +a grapevine reaching half way down it. He sprang at it with the +force of a desperate man, seized it with both hands, and, being +young and agile, succeeded in swinging himself to the summit of the +cliff. Here he stood in full relief against the sky, when the red- +cap cocked his pistol and fired. The ball whistled by Sam’s head. +With the lucky thought of a man in an emergency, he uttered a yell, +fell to the ground, and detached at the same time a fragment of the +rock, which tumbled with a loud splash into the river. + +“I’ve done his business,” said the red-cap to one or two of his +comrades as they arrived panting. “He’ll tell no tales, except to +the fishes in the river.” + +His pursuers now turned to meet their companions. Sam, sliding +silently down the surface of the rock, let himself quietly into his +skiff, cast loose the fastening, and abandoned himself to the rapid +current, which in that place runs like a mill stream, and soon +swept him off from the neighborhood. It was not, however, until he +had drifted a great distance that he ventured to ply his oars, when +he made his skiff dart like an arrow through the strait of Hell +Gate, never heeding the danger of Pot, Frying Pan, nor Hog’s Back +itself, nor did he feel himself thoroughly secure until safely +nestled in bed in the cockloft of the ancient farmhouse of the +Suydams. + + +Here the worthy Peechy Prauw paused to take breath, and to take a +sip of the gossip tankard that stood at his elbow. His auditors +remained with open mouths and outstretched necks, gaping like a +nest of swallows for an additional mouthful. + +“And is that all?” exclaimed the half-pay officer. + +“That’s all that belongs to the story,” said Peechy Prauw. + +“And did Sam never find out what was buried by the red-caps?” said +Wolfert eagerly, whose mind was haunted by nothing but ingots and +doubloons. + +“Not that I know of,” said Peechy; “he had no time to spare from +his work, and, to tell the truth, he did not like to run the risk +of another race among the rocks. Besides, how should he recollect +the spot where the grave had been digged? everything would look so +different by daylight. And then, where was the use of looking for +a dead body when there was no chance of hanging the murderers?” + +“Aye, but are you sure it was a dead body they buried?” said +Wolfert. + +“To be sure,” cried Peechy Prauw exultingly. “Does it not haunt in +the neighborhood to this very day?” + +“Haunts!” exclaimed several of the party, opening their eyes still +wider, and edging their chairs still closer. + +“Aye, haunts,” repeated Peechy; “have none of you heard of Father +Red-cap, who haunts the old burned farmhouse in the woods, on the +border of the Sound, near Hell Gate?” + +“Oh, to be sure, I’ve heard tell of something of the kind, but then +I took it for some old wives’ fable.” + +“Old wives’ fable or not,” said Peechy Prauw, “that farmhouse +stands hard by the very spot. It’s been unoccupied time out of +mind, and stands in a lonely part of the coast, but those who fish +in the neighborhood have often heard strange noises there, and +lights have been seen about the wood at night, and an old fellow in +a red cap has been seen at the windows more than once, which people +take to be the ghost of the body buried there. Once upon a time +three soldiers took shelter in the building for the night, and +rummaged it from top to bottom, when they found old Father Red-cap +astride of a cider barrel in the cellar, with a jug in one hand and +a goblet in the other. He offered them a drink out of his goblet, +but just as one of the soldiers was putting it to his mouth—whew!—a +flash of fire blazed through the cellar, blinded every mother’s +son of them for several minutes, and when they recovered their +eyesight, jug, goblet, and Red-cap had vanished, and nothing but +the empty cider barrel remained.” + +Here the half-pay officer, who was growing very muzzy and sleepy, +and nodding over his liquor, with half-extinguished eye, suddenly +gleamed up like an expiring rush-light. + +“That’s all fudge!” said he, as Peechy finished his last story. + +“Well, I don’t vouch for the truth of it myself,” said Peechy +Prauw, “though all the world knows that there’s something strange +about that house and grounds; but as to the story of Mud Sam, I +believe it just as well as if it had happened to myself.” + + +The deep interest taken in this conversation by the company had +made them unconscious of the uproar abroad among the elements, when +suddenly they were electrified by a tremendous clap of thunder. A +lumbering crash followed instantaneously, shaking the building to +its very foundation. All started from their seats, imagining it +the shock of an earthquake, or that old Father Red-cap was coming +among them in all his terrors. They listened for a moment, but +only heard the rain pelting against the windows and the wind +howling among the trees. The explosion was soon explained by the +apparition of an old negro’s bald head thrust in at the door, his +white goggle eyes contrasting with his jetty poll, which was wet +with rain, and shone like a bottle. In a jargon but half +intelligible he announced that the kitchen chimney had been struck +with lightning. + +A sullen pause of the storm, which now rose and sank in gusts, +produced a momentary stillness. In this interval the report of a +musket was heard, and a long shout, almost like a yell, resounded +from the shores. Everyone crowded to the window; another musket +shot was heard, and another long shout, mingled wildly with a +rising blast of wind. It seemed as if the cry came up from the +bosom of the waters, for though incessant flashes of lightning +spread a light about the shore, no one was to be seen. + +Suddenly the window of the room overhead was opened, and a loud +halloo uttered by the mysterious stranger. Several hailings passed +from one party to the other, but in a language which none of the +company in the barroom could understand, and presently they heard +the window closed, and a great noise overhead, as if all the +furniture were pulled and hauled about the room. The negro servant +was summoned, and shortly afterwards was seen assisting the veteran +to lug the ponderous sea chest downstairs. + +The landlord was in amazement. “What, you are not going on the +water in such a storm?” + +“Storm!” said the other scornfully, “do you call such a sputter of +weather a storm?” + +“You’ll get drenched to the skin; you’ll catch your death!” said +Peechy Prauw affectionately. + +“Thunder and lightning!” exclaimed the veteran; “don’t preach about +weather to a man that has cruised in whirlwinds and tornadoes.” + +The obsequious Peechy was again struck dumb. The voice from the +water was heard once more in a tone of impatience; the bystanders +stared with redoubled awe at this man of storms, who seemed to have +come up out of the deep, and to be summoned back to it again. As, +with the assistance of the negro, he slowly bore his ponderous sea +chest toward the shore, they eyed it with a superstitious feeling, +half doubting whether he were not really about to embark upon it +and launch forth upon the wild waves. They followed him at a +distance with a lantern. + +“Dowse[1] the light!” roared the hoarse voice from the water. “No +one wants light here!” + + +[1] Extinguish. + + +“Thunder and lightning!” exclaimed the veteran, turning short upon +them; “back to the house with you!” + +Wolfert and his companions shrank back in dismay. Still their +curiosity would not allow them entirely to withdraw. A long sheet +of lightning now flickered across the waves, and discovered a boat, +filled with men, just under a rocky point, rising and sinking with +the heaving surges, and swashing the waters at every heave. It was +with difficulty held to the rocks by a boat hook, for the current +rushed furiously round the point. The veteran hoisted one end of +the lumbering sea chest on the gunwale of the boat, and seized the +handle at the other end to lift it in, when the motion propelled +the boat from the shore, the chest slipped off from the gunwale, +and, sinking into the waves, pulled the veteran headlong after it. +A loud shriek was uttered by all on shore, and a volley of +execrations by those on board, but boat and man were hurried away +by the rushing swiftness of the tide. A pitchy darkness succeeded. +Wolfert Webber, indeed, fancied that he distinguished a cry for +help, and that he beheld the drowning man beckoning for assistance; +but when the lightning again gleamed along the water all was void; +neither man nor boat was to be seen,—nothing but the dashing and +weltering of the waves as they hurried past. + +The company returned to the tavern to await the subsiding of the +storm. They resumed their seats and gazed on each other with +dismay. The whole transaction had not occupied five minutes, and +not a dozen words had been spoken. When they looked at the oaken +chair they could scarcely realize the fact that the strange being +who had so lately tenanted it, full of life and Herculean vigor, +should already be a corpse. There was the very glass he had just +drunk from; there lay the ashes from the pipe which he had smoked, +as it were, with his last breath. As the worthy burghers pondered +on these things, they felt a terrible conviction of the uncertainty +of existence, and each felt as if the ground on which he stood was +rendered less stable by his awful example. + +As, however, the most of the company were possessed of that +valuable philosophy which enables a man to bear up with fortitude +against the misfortunes of his neighbors, they soon managed to +console themselves for the tragic end of the veteran. The landlord +was particularly happy that the poor dear man had paid his +reckoning before he went, and made a kind of farewell speech on the +occasion. + +“He came,” said he, “in a storm, and he went in a storm; he came in +the night, and he went in the night; he came nobody knows whence, +and he has gone nobody knows where. For aught I know he has gone +to sea once more on his chest, and may land to bother some people +on the other side of the world; though it’s a thousand pities,” +added he, “if he has gone to Davy Jones’s[1] locker, that he had +not left his own locker[2] behind him.” + + +[1] Davy Jones is the spirit of the sea, or the sea devil, and Davy +Jones’s locker is the bottom of the ocean; hence, “gone to Davy +Jones’s locker” signifies “dead and buried in the sea.” + +[2] Chest. + + +“His locker! St. Nicholas preserve us!” cried Peechy Prauw. “I’d +not have had that sea chest in the house for any money; I’ll +warrant he’d come racketing after it at nights, and making a +haunted house of the inn. And as to his going to sea in his chest, +I recollect what happened to Skipper Onderdonk’s ship on his voyage +from Amsterdam. + +“The boatswain died during a storm, so they wrapped him up in a +sheet, and put him in his own sea chest, and threw him overboard; +but they neglected, in their hurry-skurry, to say prayers over him, +and the storm raged and roared louder than ever, and they saw the +dead man seated in his chest, with his shroud for a sail, coming +hard after the ship, and the sea breaking before him in great +sprays like fire; and there they kept scudding day after day and +night after night, expecting every moment to go to wreck; and every +night they saw the dead boatswain in his sea chest trying to get up +with them, and they heard his whistle above the blasts of wind, and +he seemed to send great seas, mountain high, after them that would +have swamped the ship if they had not put up the deadlights. And +so it went on till they lost sight of him in the fogs off +Newfoundland, and supposed he had veered ship and stood for Dead +Man’s Isle.[1] So much for burying a man at sea without saying +prayers over him.” + + +[1] Probably Deadman’s Point, a small island near Deadman’s Bay, +off the eastern coast of Newfoundland. + + +The thunder gust which had hitherto detained the company was now at +an end. The cuckoo clock in the hall told midnight; everyone +pressed to depart, for seldom was such a late hour of the night +trespassed on by these quiet burghers. As they sallied forth they +found the heavens once more serene. The storm which had lately +obscured them had rolled away, and lay piled up in fleecy masses on +the horizon, lighted up by the bright crescent of the moon, which +looked like a little silver lamp hung up in a palace of clouds. + +The dismal occurrence of the night, and the dismal narrations they +had made, had left a superstitious feeling in every mind. They +cast a fearful glance at the spot where the buccaneer had +disappeared, almost expecting to see him sailing on his chest in +the cool moonshine. The trembling rays glittered along the waters, +but all was placid, and the current dimpled over the spot where he +had gone down. The party huddled together in a little crowd as +they repaired homeward, particularly when they passed a lonely +field where a man had been murdered, and even the sexton, who had +to complete his journey alone, though accustomed, one would think, +to ghosts and goblins, went a long way round rather than pass by +his own churchyard. + +Wolfert Webber had now carried home a fresh stock of stories and +notions to ruminate upon. These accounts of pots of money and +Spanish treasures, buried here and there and everywhere about the +rocks and bays of these wild shores, made him almost dizzy. +“Blessed St. Nicholas!” ejaculated he, half aloud, “is it not +possible to come upon one of these golden hoards, and to make +oneself rich in a twinkling? How hard that I must go on, delving +and delving, day in and day out, merely to make a morsel of bread, +when one lucky stroke of a spade might enable me to ride in my +carriage for the rest of my life!” + +As he turned over in his thoughts all that had been told of the +singular adventure of the negro fisherman, his imagination gave a +totally different complexion[1] to the tale. He saw in the gang of +red-caps nothing but a crew of pirates burying their spoils, and +his cupidity was once more awakened by the possibility of at length +getting on the traces of some of this lurking wealth. Indeed, his +infected fancy tinged everything with gold. He felt like the +greedy inhabitant of Bagdad when his eyes had been greased with the +magic ointment of the dervish, that gave him to see all the +treasures of the earth.[2] Caskets of buried jewels, chests of +ingots, and barrels of outlandish coins seemed to court him from +their concealments, and supplicate him to relieve them from their +untimely graves. + + +[1] Aspect. + +[2] See Story of the Blind Man, Baba Abdalla, in Arabian Nights’ +Entertainment. An inhabitant of Bagdad, Asiatic Turkey, meets with +a dervish, or Turkish monk, who presents him with a vast treasure +and with a box of magic ointment, which, applied to the left eye, +enables one to see the treasures in the bosom of the earth, but on +touching the right eye, causes blindness. Having applied it to the +left eye with the result predicted, he uses it on his right eye, in +the hope that still greater treasures may be revealed, and +immediately becomes blind. + + +On making private inquiries about the grounds said to be haunted by +Feather Red-cap, he was more and more confirmed in his surmise. He +learned that the place had several times been visited by +experienced money diggers who had heard Black Sam’s story, though +none of them had met with success. On the contrary, they had +always been dogged with ill luck of some kind or other, in +consequence, as Wolfert concluded, of not going to work at the +proper time and with the proper ceremonials. The last attempt had +been made by Cobus Quackenbos, who dug for a whole night, and met +with incredible difficulty, for as fast as he threw one shovelful +of earth out of the hole, two were thrown in by invisible hands. +He succeeded so far, however, as to uncover an iron chest, when +there was a terrible roaring, ramping, and raging of uncouth +figures about the hole, and at length a shower of blows, dealt by +invisible cudgels, fairly belabored him off of the forbidden +ground. This Cobus Quackenbos had declared on his deathbed, so +that there could not be any doubt of it. He was a man that had +devoted many years of his life to money digging, and it was thought +would have ultimately succeeded had he not died recently of a brain +fever in the almshouse. + +Wolfert Webber was now in a worry of trepidation and impatience, +fearful lest some rival adventurer should get a scent of the buried +gold. He determined privately to seek out the black fisherman, and +get him to serve as guide to the place where he had witnessed the +mysterious scene of interment. Sam was easily found, for he was +one of those old habitual beings that live about a neighborhood +until they wear themselves a place in the public mind, and become, +in a manner, public characters. There was not an unlucky urchin +about town that did not know Sam the fisherman, and think that he +had a right to play his tricks upon the old negro. Sam had led an +amphibious life for more than half a century, about the shores of +the bay and the fishing grounds of the Sound. He passed the +greater part of his time on and in the water, particularly about +Hell Gate, and might have been taken, in bad weather, for one of +the hobgoblins that used to haunt that strait. There would he be +seen, at all times and in all weathers, sometimes in his skiff, +anchored among the eddies, or prowling like a shark about some +wreck, where the fish are supposed to be most abundant; sometimes +seated on a rock from hour to hour, looking, in the mist and +drizzle, like a solitary heron watching for its prey. He was well +acquainted with every hole and corner of the Sound, from the +Wallabout[1] to Hell Gate, and from Hell Gate unto the Devil’s +Stepping-Stones; and it was even affirmed that he knew all the fish +in the river by their Christian names. + + +[1] A bay of the East River, on which the Brooklyn Navy Yard is +situated. + + +Wolfert found him at his cabin, which was not much larger than a +tolerable dog house. It was rudely constructed of fragments of +wrecks and driftwood, and built on the rocky shore at the foot of +the old fort, just about what at present forms the point of the +Battery.[1] A “very ancient and fishlike smell”[2] pervaded the +place. Oars, paddles, and fishing rods were leaning against the +wall of the fort, a net was spread on the sand to dry, a skiff was +drawn up on the beach, and at the door of his cabin was Mud Sam +himself, indulging in the true negro luxury of sleeping in the +sunshine. + + +[1] The southern extremity of New York City. + +[2] See Shakespeare’s The Tempest, act ii., sc. 2. + + +Many years had passed away since the time of Sam’s youthful +adventure, and the snows of many a winter had grizzled the knotty +wool upon his head. He perfectly recollected the circumstances, +however, for he had often been called upon to relate them, though +in his version of the story he differed in many points from Peechy +Prauw, as is not infrequently the case with authentic historians. +As to the subsequent researches of money diggers, Sam knew nothing +about them; they were matters quite out of his line; neither did +the cautious Wolfert care to disturb his thoughts on that point. +His only wish was to secure the old fisherman as a pilot to the +spot, and this was readily effected. The long time that had +intervened since his nocturnal adventure had effaced all Sam’s awe +of the place, and the promise of a trifling reward roused him at +once from his sleep and his sunshine. + +The tide was adverse to making the expedition by water, and Wolfert +was too impatient to get to the land of promise to wait for its +turning; they set off, therefore, by land. A walk of four or five +miles brought them to the edge of a wood, which at that time +covered the greater part of the eastern side of the island. It was +just beyond the pleasant region of Bloomen-dael.[1] Here they +struck into a long lane, straggling among trees and bushes very +much overgrown with weeds and mullein stalks, as if but seldom +used, and so completely overshadowed as to enjoy but a kind of +twilight. Wild vines entangled the trees and flaunted in their +faces; brambles and briers caught their clothes as they passed; the +garter snake glided across their path; the spotted toad hopped and +waddled before them; and the restless catbird mewed at them from +every thicket. Had Wolfert Webber been deeply read in romantic +legend he might have fancied himself entering upon forbidden, +enchanted ground, or that these were some of the guardians set to +keep watch upon buried treasure. As it was, the loneliness of the +place, and the wild stories connected with it, had their effect +upon his mind. + + +[1] At the time this story was written Bloomen-dael (Flowery +Valley) was a village four miles from New York. It is now that +part of New York known as Bloomingdale, on the west side, between +about Seventieth and One Hundredth Streets. + + +On reaching the lower end of the lane they found themselves near +the shore of the Sound, in a kind of amphitheater surrounded by +forest trees. The area had once been a grass plot, but was now +shagged with briers and rank weeds. At one end, and just on the +river bank, was a ruined building, little better than a heap of +rubbish, with a stack of chimneys rising like a solitary tower out +of the center. The current of the Sound rushed along just below +it, with wildly grown trees drooping their branches into its waves. + +Wolfert had not a doubt that this was the haunted house of Father +Red-cap, and called to mind the story of Peechy Prauw. The evening +was approaching, and the light, falling dubiously among the woody +places, gave a melancholy tone to the scene well calculated to +foster any lurking feeling of awe or superstition. The night hawk, +wheeling about in the highest regions of the air, emitted his +peevish, boding cry. The woodpecker gave a lonely tap now and then +on some hollow tree, and the firebird[1] streamed by them with his +deep red plumage. + + +[1] Orchard oriole. + + +They now came to an inclosure that had once been a garden. It +extended along the foot of a rocky ridge, but was little better +than a wilderness of weeds, with here and there a matted rosebush, +or a peach or plum tree, grown wild and ragged, and covered with +moss. At the lower end of the garden they passed a kind of vault +in the side of a bank, facing the water. It had the look of a root +house.[1] The door, though decayed, was still strong, and appeared +to have been recently patched up. Wolfert pushed it open. It gave +a harsh grating upon its hinges, and striking against something +like a box, a rattling sound ensued, and a skull rolled on the +floor. Wolfert drew back shuddering, but was reassured on being +informed by the negro that this was a family vault, belonging to +one of the old Dutch families that owned this estate, an assertion +corroborated by the sight of coffins of various sizes piled within. +Sam had been familiar with all these scenes when a boy, and now +knew that he could not be far from the place of which they were in +quest. + + +[1] “Root house,” i.e., a house for storing up potatoes, turnips, +or other roots for the winter feed of cattle. + + +They now made their way to the water’s edge, scrambling along +ledges of rocks that overhung the waves, and obliged often to hold +by shrubs and grapevines to avoid slipping into the deep and +hurried stream. At length they came to a small cove, or rather +indent of the shore. It was protected by steep rocks, and +overshadowed by a thick copse of oaks and chestnuts, so as to be +sheltered and almost concealed. The beach shelved gradually within +the cove, but, the current swept deep and black and rapid along its +jutting points. The negro paused, raised his remnant of a hat, and +scratched his grizzled poll for a moment, as he regarded this nook; +then suddenly clapping his hands, he stepped exultingly forward, +and pointed to a large iron ring, stapled firmly in the rock, just +where a broad shelf of stone furnished a commodious landing place. +It was the very spot where the red-caps had landed. Years had +changed the more perishable features of the scene; but rock and +iron yield slowly to the influence of time. On looking more +closely Wolfert remarked three crosses cut in the rock just above +the ring, which had no doubt some mysterious signification. Old +Sam now readily recognized the overhanging rock under which his +skiff had been sheltered during the thunder gust. To follow up the +course which the midnight gang had taken, however, was a harder +task. His mind had been so much taken up on that eventful occasion +by the persons of the drama as to pay but little attention to the +scenes, and these places looked so different by night and day. +After wandering about for some time, however, they came to an +opening among the trees which Sam thought resembled the place. +There was a ledge of rock of moderate height, like a wall, on one +side, which he thought might be the very ridge whence he had +overlooked the diggers. Wolfert examined it narrowly, and at +length discovered three crosses similar to those on the above ring, +cut deeply into the face of the rock, but nearly obliterated by +moss that had grown over them. His heart leaped with joy, for he +doubted not they were the private marks of the buccaneers. All now +that remained was to ascertain the precise spot where the treasure +lay buried, for otherwise he might dig at random in the +neighborhood of the crosses, without coming upon the spoils, and he +had already had enough of such profitless labor. Here, however, +the old negro was perfectly at a loss, and indeed perplexed him by +a variety of opinions, for his recollections were all confused. +Sometimes he declared it must have been at the foot of a mulberry +tree hard by; then beside a great white stone; then under a small +green knoll, a short distance from the ledge of rocks, until at +length Wolfert became as bewildered as himself. + +The shadows of evening were now spreading themselves over the +woods, and rock and tree began to mingle together. It was +evidently too late to attempt anything further at present, and, +indeed, Wolfert had come unprovided with implements to prosecute +his researches. Satisfied, therefore, with having ascertained the +place, he took note of all its landmarks, that he might recognize +it again, and set out on his return homeward, resolved to prosecute +this golden enterprise without delay. + +The leading anxiety which had hitherto absorbed every feeling being +now in some measure appeased, fancy began to wander, and to conjure +up a thousand shapes and chimeras as he returned through this +haunted region. Pirates hanging in chains seemed to swing from +every tree, and he almost expected to see some Spanish don, with +his throat cut from ear to ear, rising slowly out of the ground, +and shaking the ghost of a money bag. + +Their way back lay through the desolate garden, and Wolfert’s +nerves had arrived at so sensitive a state that the flitting of a +bird, the rustling of a leaf, or the falling of a nut was enough to +startle him. As they entered the confines of the garden, they +caught sight of a figure at a distance advancing slowly up one of +the walks, and bending under the weight of a burden. They paused +and regarded him attentively. He wore what appeared to be a woolen +cap, and, still more alarming, of a most sanguinary red. + +The figure moved slowly on, ascended the bank, and stopped at the +very door of the sepulchral vault. Just before entering it he +looked around. What was the affright of Wolfert when he recognized +the grisly visage of the drowned buccaneer! He uttered an +ejaculation of horror. The figure slowly raised his iron fist and +shook it with a terrible menace. Wolfert did not pause to see any +more, but hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him, nor was +Sam slow in following at his heels, having all his ancient terrors +revived. Away, then, did they scramble through bush and brake, +horribly frightened at every bramble that tugged at their skirts, +nor did they pause to breathe until they had blundered their way +through this perilous wood, and fairly reached the highroad to the +city. + +Several days elapsed before Wolfert could summon courage enough to +prosecute the enterprise, so much had he been dismayed by the +apparition, whether living or dead, of the grisly buccaneer. In +the meantime, what a conflict of mind did he suffer! He neglected +all his concerns, was moody and restless all day, lost his +appetite, wandered in his thoughts and words, and committed a +thousand blunders. His rest was broken, and when he fell asleep +the nightmare, in shape of a huge money bag, sat squatted upon his +breast. He babbled about incalculable sums, fancied himself +engaged in money digging, threw the bedclothes right and left, in +the idea that he was shoveling away the dirt, groped under the bed +in quest of the treasure, and lugged forth, as he supposed, an +inestimable pot of gold. + +Dame Webber and her daughter were in despair at what they conceived +a returning touch of insanity. There are two family oracles, one +or other of which Dutch housewives consult in all cases of great +doubt and perplexity,—the dominie and the doctor. In the present +instance they repaired to the doctor. There was at that time a +little dark, moldy man of medicine, famous among the old wives of +the Manhattoes for his skill, not only in the healing art, but in +all matters of strange and mysterious nature. His name was Dr. +Knipperhausen, but he was more commonly known by the appellation of +the “High German Doctor.”[1] To him did the poor women repair for +counsel and assistance touching the mental vagaries of Wolfert +Webber. + + +[1] The same, no doubt, of whom mention is made in the history of +Dolph Heyliger. + + +They found the doctor seated in his little study, clad in his dark +camlet[1] robe of knowledge, with his black velvet cap, after the +manner of Boerhaave,[2] Van Helmont,[3] and other medical sages, a +pair of green spectacles set in black horn upon his clubbed nose, +and poring over a German folio that reflected back the darkness of +his physiognomy. The doctor listened to their statement of the +symptoms of Wolfert’s malady with profound attention, but when they +came to mention his raving about buried money the little man +pricked up his ears. Alas, poor women! they little knew the aid +they had called in. + + +[1] A fabric made of goat’s hair and silk, or wool and cotton. + +[2] Hermann Boerhaave (1668–1738), a celebrated Dutch physician and +philosopher. + +[3] Jan Baptista Van Helmont (1577–1644), a celebrated Flemish +physician and chemist. + + +Dr. Knipperhausen had been half his life engaged in seeking the +short cuts to fortune, in quest of which so many a long lifetime is +wasted. He had passed some years of his youth among the Harz[1] +mountains of Germany, and had derived much valuable instruction +from the miners touching the mode of seeking treasure buried in the +earth. He had prosecuted his studies, also, under a traveling sage +who united the mysteries of medicine with magic and legerdemain. +His mind, therefore, had become stored with all kinds of mystic +lore; he had dabbled a little in astrology, alchemy, divination;[2] +knew how to detect stolen money, and to tell where springs of water +lay hidden; in a word, by the dark nature of his knowledge he had +acquired the name of the “High German Doctor,” which is pretty +nearly equivalent to that of necromancer. The doctor had often +heard rumors of treasure being buried in various parts of the +island, and had long been anxious to get on the traces of it. No +sooner were Wolfert’s waking and sleeping vagaries confided to him +than he beheld in them the confirmed symptoms of a case of money +digging, and lost no time in probing it to the bottom. Wolfert had +long been sorely oppressed in mind by the golden secret, and as a +family physician is a kind of father confessor, he was glad of any +opportunity of unburdening himself. So far from curing, the doctor +caught the malady from his patient. The circumstances unfolded to +him awakened all his cupidity; he had not a doubt of money being +buried somewhere in the neighborhood of the mysterious crosses, and +offered to join Wolfert in the search. He informed him that much +secrecy and caution must be observed in enterprises of the kind; +that money is only to be dug for at night, with certain forms and +ceremonies and burning of drugs, the repeating of mystic words, +and, above all, that the seekers must first be provided with a +divining rod,[3] which had the wonderful property of pointing to +the very spot on the surface of the earth under which treasure lay +hidden. As the doctor had given much of his mind to these matters +he charged himself with all the necessary preparations, and, as the +quarter of the moon was propitious, he undertook to have the +divining rod ready by a certain night. + + +[1] A mountain chain in northwestern Germany, between the Elbe and +the Weser. + +[2] Astrology, alchemy, and divination were three imaginary arts. +The first pretended to judge of the influence of the stars on human +affairs, and to foretell events by their positions and aspects; the +second aimed to transmute the baser metals into gold, and to find a +universal remedy for diseases; while the third dealt with the +discovery of secret or future events by preternatural means. + +[3] A divining rod is a rod used by those who pretend to discover +water or metals underground. It is commonly made of witch hazel, +with forked branches. + + +Wolfert’s heart leaped with joy at having met with so learned and +able a coadjutor. Everything went on secretly but swimmingly. The +doctor had many consultations with his patient, and the good women +of the household lauded the comforting effect of his visits. In +the meantime the wonderful divining rod, that great key to nature’s +secrets, was duly prepared. The doctor had thumbed over all his +books of knowledge for the occasion, and the black fisherman was +engaged to take them in his skiff to the scene of enterprise, to +work with spade and pickax in unearthing the treasure, and to +freight his bark with the weighty spoils they were certain of +finding. + +At length the appointed night arrived for this perilous +undertaking. Before Wolfert left his home he counseled his wife +and daughter to go to bed, and feel no alarm if he should not +return during the night. Like reasonable women, on being told not +to feel alarm they fell immediately into a panic. They saw at once +by his manner that something unusual was in agitation; all their +fears about the unsettled state of his mind were revived with +tenfold force; they hung about him, entreating him not to expose +himself to the night air, but all in vain. When once Wolfert was +mounted on his hobby,[1] it was no easy manner to get him out of +the saddle. It was a clear, starlight night when he issued out of +the portal of the Webber palace. He wore a large flapped hat, tied +under the chin with a handkerchief of his daughter’s, to secure him +from the night damp, while Dame Webber threw her long red cloak +about his shoulders, and fastened it round his neck. + + +[1] Hobby, or hobbyhorse, a favorite theme of thought; hence, “to +mount a hobby” is to follow a favorite pursuit. + + +The doctor had been no less carefully armed and accoutered by his +housekeeper, the vigilant Frau Ilsy, and sallied forth in his +camlet robe by way of surcoat,[1] his black velvet cap under his +cocked hat, a thick clasped book under his arm, a basket of drugs +and dried herbs in one hand, and in the other the miraculous rod of +divination. + + +[1] Overcoat. + + +The great church clock struck ten as Wolfert and the doctor passed +by the churchyard, and the watchman bawled in hoarse voice a long +and doleful “All’s well!” A deep sleep had already fallen upon +this primitive little burgh; nothing disturbed this awful silence +excepting now and then the bark of some profligate, night-walking +dog, or the serenade of some romantic cat. It is true Wolfert +fancied more than once that he heard the sound of a stealthy +footfall at a distance behind them; but it might have been merely +the echo of their own steps along the quiet streets. He thought +also at one time that he saw a tall figure skulking after them, +stopping when they stopped and moving on as they proceeded; but the +dim and uncertain lamplight threw such vague gleams and shadows +that this might all have been mere fancy. + +They found the old fisherman waiting for them, smoking his pipe in +the stern of the skiff, which was moored just in front of his +little cabin. A pickax and spade were lying in the bottom of the +boat, with a dark lantern, and a stone bottle of good Dutch +courage,[1] in which honest Sam no doubt put even more faith than +Dr. Knipperhausen in his drugs. + + +[1] Dutch courage is courage that results from indulgence in Dutch +gin or Hollands; here applied to the gin itself. + + +Thus, then, did these three worthies embark in their cockleshell of +a skiff upon this nocturnal expedition, with a wisdom and valor +equaled only by the three wise men of Gotham,[1] who adventured to +sea in a bowl. The tide was rising and running rapidly up the +Sound. The current bore them along, almost without the aid of an +oar. The profile of the town lay all in shadow. Here and there a +light feebly glimmered from some sick chamber, or from the cabin +window of some vessel at anchor in the stream. Not a cloud +obscured the deep, starry firmament, the lights of which wavered on +the surface of the placid river, and a shooting meteor, streaking +its pale course in the very direction they were taking, was +interpreted by the doctor into a most propitious omen. + + + [1] “Three wise men of Gotham, + They went to sea in a bowl— + And if the bowl had been stronger, + My tale had been longer.” + Mother Goose Melody. + + +[1] Gotham was a village proverbial for the blundering simplicity of +its inhabitants. At first the name referred to an English village. +Irving applied it to New York City. + + +In a little while they glided by the point of Corlear’s Hook, with +the rural inn which had been the scene of such night adventures. +The family had retired to rest, and the house was dark and still. +Wolfert felt a chill pass over him as they passed the point where +the buccaneer had disappeared. He pointed it out to Dr. +Knipperhausen. While regarding it they thought they saw a boat +actually lurking at the very place; but the shore cast such a +shadow over the border of the water that they could discern nothing +distinctly. They had not proceeded far when they heard the low +sounds of distant oars, as if cautiously pulled. Sam plied his +oars with redoubled vigor, and knowing all the eddies and currents +of the stream, soon left their followers, if such they were, far +astern. In a little while they stretched across Turtle Bay and +Kip’s Bay,[1] then shrouded themselves in the deep shadows of the +Manhattan shore, and glided swiftly along, secure from observation. +At length the negro shot his skiff into a little cove, darkly +embowered by trees, and made it fast to the well-known iron ring. +They now landed, and lighting the lantern gathered their various +implements and proceeded slowly through the bushes. Every sound +startled them, even that of their own footsteps among the dry +leaves, and the hooting of a screech owl, from the shattered +chimney of the neighboring ruin, made their blood run cold. + + +[1] A small bay in the East River below Corlear’s Hook. + + +In spite of all Wolfert’s caution in taking note of the landmarks, +it was some time before they could find the open place among the +trees, where the treasure was supposed to be buried. At length +they came to the ledge of rock, and on examining its surface by the +aid of the lantern, Wolfert recognized the three mystic crosses. +Their hearts beat quick, for the momentous trial was at hand that +was to determine their hopes. + +The lantern was now held by Wolfert Webber, while the doctor +produced the divining rod. It was a forked twig, one end of which +was grasped firmly in each hand, while the center, forming the +stem, pointed perpendicularly upward. The doctor moved his wand +about, within a certain distance of the earth, from place to place, +but for some time without any effect, while Wolfert kept the light +of the lantern turned full upon it, and watched it with the most +breathless interest. At length the rod began slowly to turn. The +doctor grasped it with greater earnestness, his hands trembling +with the agitation of his mind. The wand continued to turn +gradually, until at length the stem had reversed its position, and +pointed perpendicularly downward, and remained pointing to one spot +as fixedly as the needle to the pole. + +“This is the spot!” said the doctor, in an almost inaudible tone. + +Wolfert’s heart was in his throat. + +“Shall I dig?” said the negro, grasping the spade. + +“Pots tausend,[1] no!” replied the little doctor hastily. He now +ordered his companions to keep close by him, and to maintain the +most inflexible silence; that certain precautions must be taken and +ceremonies used to prevent the evil spirits which kept about buried +treasure from doing them any harm. He then drew a circle about the +place, enough to include the whole party. He next gathered dry +twigs and leaves and made a fire, upon which he threw certain drugs +and dried herbs which he had brought in his basket. A thick smoke +rose, diffusing a potent odor savoring marvelously of brimstone and +asafetida, which, however grateful it might be to the olfactory +nerves of spirits, nearly strangled poor Wolfert, and produced a +fit of coughing and wheezing that made the whole grove resound. +Dr. Knipperhausen then unclasped the volume which he had brought +under his arm, which was printed in red and black characters in +German text. While Wolfert held the lantern, the doctor, by the +aid of his spectacles, read off several forms of conjuration in +Latin and German. He then ordered Sam to seize the pickax and +proceed to work. The close-bound soil gave obstinate signs of not +having been disturbed for many a year. After having picked his way +through the surface, Sam came to a bed of sand and gravel, which he +threw briskly to right and left with the spade. + + +[1] A German exclamation of anger, equivalent to the English +“zounds!” + + +“Hark!” said Wolfert, who fancied he heard a trampling among the +dry leaves and a rustling through the bushes. Sam paused for a +moment, and they listened. No footstep was near. The bat flitted +by them in silence; a bird, roused from its roost by the light +which glared up among the trees, flew circling about the flame. In +the profound stillness of the woodland they could distinguish the +current rippling along the rocky shore, and the distant murmuring +and roaring of Hell Gate. + +The negro continued his labors, and had already digged a +considerable hole. The doctor stood on the edge, reading formulae +every now and then from his black-letter volume, or throwing more +drugs and herbs upon the fire, while Wolfert bent anxiously over +the pit, watching every stroke of the spade. Anyone witnessing the +scene thus lighted up by fire, lantern, and the reflection of +Wolfert’s red mantle, might have mistaken the little doctor for +some foul magician, busied in his incantations, and the grizzly- +headed negro for some swart goblin obedient to his commands. + +At length the spade of the fisherman struck upon something that +sounded hollow. The sound vibrated to Wolfert’s heart. He struck +his spade again. + +“’Tis a chest,” said Sam. + +“Full of gold, I’ll warrant it!” cried Wolfert, clasping his hands +with rapture. + +Scarcely had he uttered the words when a sound from above caught +his ear. He cast up his eyes, and lo! by the expiring light of the +fire he beheld, just over the disk of the rock, what appeared to be +the grim visage of the drowned buccaneer, grinning hideously down +upon him. + +Wolfert gave a loud cry and let fall the lantern. His panic +communicated itself to his companions. The negro leaped out of the +hole, the doctor dropped his book and basket, and began to pray in +German. All was horror and confusion. The fire was scattered +about, the lantern extinguished. In their hurry-scurry[1] they ran +against and confounded one another. They fancied a legion of +hobgoblins let loose upon them, and that they saw, by the fitful +gleams of the scattered embers, strange figures, in red caps, +gibbering and ramping around them. The doctor ran one way, the +negro another, and Wolfert made for the water side. As he plunged +struggling onward through brush and brake, he heard the tread of +some one in pursuit. He scrambled frantically forward. The +footsteps gained upon him. He felt himself grasped by his cloak, +when suddenly his pursuer was attacked in turn; a fierce fight and +struggle ensued, a pistol was discharged that lit up rock and bush +for a second, and showed two figures grappling together; all was +then darker than ever. The contest continued, the combatants +clinched each other, and panted and groaned, and rolled among the +rocks. There was snarling and growling as of a cur, mingled with +curses, in which Wolfert fancied he could recognize the voice of +the buccaneer. He would fain have fled, but he was on the brink of +a precipice, and could go no farther. + + +[1] A swift, disorderly movement. + + +Again the parties were on their feet, again there was a tugging and +struggling, as if strength alone could decide the combat, until one +was precipitated from the brow of the cliff, and sent headlong into +the deep stream that whirled below. Wolfert heard the plunge, and +a kind of strangling, bubbling murmur, but the darkness of the +night hid everything from him, and the swiftness of the current +swept everything instantly out of hearing. One of the combatants +was disposed of, but whether friend or foe Wolfert could not tell, +nor whether they might not both be foes. He heard the survivor +approach, and his terror revived. He saw, where the profile of the +rocks rose against the horizon, a human form advancing. He could +not be mistaken; it must be the buccaneer. Whither should he fly?—a +precipice was on one side, a murderer on the other. The enemy +approached—he was close at hand. Wolfert attempted to let himself +down the face of the cliff. His cloak caught in a thorn that grew +on the edge. He was jerked from off his feet, and held dangling in +the air, half choked by the string with which his careful wife had +fastened the garment around his neck. Wolfert thought his last +moment was arrived; already had he committed his soul to St. +Nicholas, when the string broke, and he tumbled down the bank, +bumping from rock to rock and bush to bush, and leaving the red +cloak fluttering like a bloody banner in the air. + +It was a long while before Wolfert came to himself. When he opened +his eyes, the ruddy streaks of morning were already shooting up the +sky. He found himself grievously battered, and lying in the bottom +of a boat. He attempted to sit up, but was too sore and stiff to +move. A voice requested him in a friendly accents to lie still. +He turned his eyes toward the speaker; it was Dirk Waldron. He had +dogged the party, at the earnest request of Dame Webber and her +daughter, who, with the laudable curiosity of their sex, had pried +into the secret consultations of Wolfert and the doctor. Dirk had +been completely distanced in following the light skiff of the +fisherman, and had just come in time to rescue the poor money +digger from his pursuer. + +Thus ended this perilous enterprise. The doctor and Black Sam +severally found their way back to the Manhattoes, each having some +dreadful tale of peril to relate. As to poor Wolfert, instead of +returning in triumph, laden with bags of gold, he was borne home on +a shutter, followed by a rabble-rout[1] of curious urchins. His +wife and daughter saw the dismal pageant from a distance, and +alarmed the neighborhood with their cries; they thought the poor +man had suddenly settled the great debt of nature in one of his +wayward moods. Finding him, however, still living, they had him +speedily to bed, and a jury of old matrons of the neighborhood +assembled to determine how he should be doctored. The whole town +was in a buzz with the story of the money diggers. Many repaired +to the scene of the previous night’s adventures; but though they +found the very place of the digging, they discovered nothing that +compensated them for their trouble. Some say they found the +fragments of an oaken chest, and an iron pot lid, which savored +strongly of hidden money, and that in the old family vault there +were traces of bales and boxes; but this is all very dubious. + + +[1] A noisy throng. + + +In fact, the secret of all this story has never to this day been +discovered. Whether any treasure were ever actually buried at that +place; whether, if so, it were carried off at night by those who +had buried it; or whether it still remains there under the +guardianship of gnomes and spirits until it shall be properly +sought for, is all matter of conjecture. For my part, I incline to +the latter opinion, and make no doubt that great sums lie buried, +both there and in other parts of this island and its neighborhood, +ever since the times of the buccaneers and the Dutch colonists; and +I would earnestly recommend the search after them to such of my +fellow citizens as are not engaged in any other speculations. + +There were many conjectures formed, also, as to who and what was +the strange man of the seas, who had domineered over the little +fraternity at Corlear’s Hook for a time, disappeared so strangely, +and reappeared so fearfully. Some supposed him a smuggler +stationed at that place to assist his comrades in landing their +goods among the rocky coves of the island. Others, that he was one +of the ancient comrades of Kidd or Bradish, returned to convey away +treasures formerly hidden in the vicinity. The only circumstance +that throws anything like a vague light on this mysterious matter +is a report which prevailed of a strange, foreign-built shallop, +with much the look of a picaroon,[1] having been seen hovering +about the Sound for several days without landing or reporting +herself, though boats were seen going to and from her at night; and +that she was seen standing out of the mouth of the harbor, in the +gray of the dawn, after the catastrophe of the money diggers. + + +[1] A piratical vessel. + + +I must not omit to mention another report, also, which I confess is +rather apocryphal, of the buccaneer who is supposed to have been +drowned, being seen before daybreak, with a lantern in his hand, +seated astride of his great sea chest, and sailing through Hell +Gate, which just then began to roar and bellow with redoubled fury. + +While all the gossip world was thus filled with talk and rumor, +poor Wolfert lay sick and sorrowfully in his bed, bruised in body +and sorely beaten down in mind. His wife and daughter did all they +could to bind up his wounds, both corporal and spiritual. The good +old dame never stirred from his bedside, where she sat knitting +from morning till night, while his daughter busied herself about +him with the fondest care. Nor did they lack assistance from +abroad. Whatever may be said of the desertion of friends in +distress, they had no complaint of the kind to make. Not an old +wife of the neighborhood but abandoned her work to crowd to the +mansion of Wolfert Webber, to inquire after his health and the +particulars of his story. Not one came, moreover, without her +little pipkin of pennyroyal, sage, balm, or other herb tea, +delighted at an opportunity of signalizing her kindness and her +doctorship. What drenchings did not the poor Wolfert undergo, and +all in vain! It was a moving sight to behold him wasting away day +by day, growing thinner and thinner and ghastlier and ghastlier, +and staring with rueful visage from under an old patchwork +counterpane, upon the jury of matrons kindly assembled to sigh and +groan and look unhappy around him. + +Dirk Waldron was the only being that seemed to shed a ray of +sunshine into this house of mourning. He came in with cheery look +and manly spirit, and tried to reanimate the expiring heart of the +poor money digger, but it was all in vain. Wolfert was completely +done over.[1] If anything was wanting to complete his despair, it +was a notice, served upon him in the midst of his distress, that +the corporation was about to run a new street through the very +center of his cabbage garden. He now saw nothing before him but +poverty and ruin; his last reliance, the garden of his forefathers, +was to be laid waste, and what then was to become of his poor wife +and child? + + +[1] Exhausted. + + +His eyes filled with tears as they followed the dutiful Amy out of +the room one morning. Dirk Waldron was seated beside him; Wolfert +grasped his hand, pointed after his daughter, and for the first +time since his illness broke the silence he had maintained. + +“I am going!” said he, shaking his head feebly, “and when I am +gone, my poor daughter—” + +“Leave her to me, father!” said Dirk manfully; “I’ll take care of +her!” + +Wolfert looked up in the face of the cheery, strapping youngster, +and saw there was none better able to take care of a woman. + +“Enough,” said he, “she is yours! And now fetch me a lawyer—let +me make my will and die.” + +The lawyer was brought,—a dapper, bustling, round-headed little +man, Roorback (or Rollebuck, as it was pronounced) by name. At the +sight of him the women broke into loud lamentations, for they +looked upon the signing of a will as the signing of a death +warrant. Wolfert made a feeble motion for them to be silent. Poor +Amy buried her face and her grief in the bed curtain. Dame Webber +resumed her knitting to hide her distress, which betrayed itself, +however, in a pellucid tear, which trickled silently down, and hung +at the end of her peaked nose; while the cat, the only unconcerned +member of the family, played with the good dame’s ball of worsted +as it rolled about the floor. + +Wolfert lay on his back, his nightcap drawn over his forehead, his +eyes closed, his whole visage the picture of death. He begged the +lawyer to be brief, for he felt his end approaching, and that he +had no time to lose. The lawyer nibbed[1] his pen, spread out his +paper, and prepared to write. + + +[1] In Irving’s time, quills were made into pens by pointing or +“nibbing” their ends. + + +“I give and bequeath,” said Wolfert faintly, “my small farm—” + +“What! all?” exclaimed the lawyer. + +Wolfert half opened his eyes and looked upon the lawyer. + +“Yes, all,” said he. + +“What! all that great patch of land with cabbages and sunflowers, +which the corporation is just going to run a main street through?” + +“The same,” said Wolfert, with a heavy sigh, and sinking back upon +his pillow. + +“I wish him joy that inherits it!” said the little lawyer, +chuckling and rubbing his hands involuntarily. + +“What do you mean?” said Wolfert, again opening his eyes. + +“That he’ll be one of the richest men in the place,” cried little +Rollebuck. + +The expiring Wolfert seemed to step back from the threshold of +existence; his eyes again lighted up; he raised himself in his bed, +shoved back his red worsted nightcap, and stared broadly at the +lawyer. + +“You don’t say so!” exclaimed he. + +“Faith but I do!” rejoined the other. “Why, when that great field +and that huge meadow come to be laid out in streets and cut up into +snug building lots,—why, whoever owns it need not pull off his hat +to the patroon!” + +“Say you so?” cried Wolfert, half thrusting one leg out of bed; +“why, then, I think I’ll not make my will yet.” + +To the surprise of everybody the dying man actually recovered. The +vital spark, which had glimmered faintly in the socket, received +fresh fuel from the oil of gladness which the little lawyer poured +into his soul. It once more burned up into a flame. + +Give physic to the heart, ye who would revive the body of a spirit- +broken man! In a few days Wolfert left his room; in a few days +more his table was covered with deeds, plans of streets and +building lots. Little Rollebuck was constantly with him, his right +hand man and adviser, and instead of making his will assisted in +the more agreeable task of making his fortune. In fact Wolfert +Webber was one of those worthy Dutch burghers of the Manhattoes +whose fortunes have been made, in a manner, in spite of themselves; +who have tenaciously held on to their hereditary acres, raising +turnips and cabbages about the skirts of the city, hardly able to +make both ends meet, until the corporation has cruelly driven +streets through their abodes, and they have suddenly awakened out +of their lethargy, and, to their astonishment, found themselves +rich men. + +Before many months had elapsed a great, bustling street passed +through the very center of the Webber garden, just where Wolfert +had dreamed of finding a treasure. His golden dream was +accomplished; he did, indeed, find an unlooked-for source of +wealth, for, when his paternal lands were distributed into building +lots and rented out to safe tenants, instead of producing a paltry +crop of cabbages they returned him an abundant crop of rent, +insomuch that on quarter day it was a goodly sight to see his +tenants knocking at the door from morning till night, each with a +little round-bellied bag of money, a golden produce of the soil. + +The ancient mansion of his forefathers was still kept up, but, +instead of being a little yellow-fronted Dutch house in a garden, +it now stood boldly in the midst of a street, the grand home of the +neighborhood; for Wolfert enlarged it with a wing on each side, and +a cupola or tea room on top, where he might climb up and smoke his +pipe in hot weather, and in the course of time the whole mansion +was overrun by the chubby-faced progeny of Amy Webber and Dirk +Waldron. + +As Wolfert waxed old and rich and corpulent he also set up a great +gingerbread-colored carriage, drawn by a pair of black Flanders +mares with tails that swept the ground; and to commemorate the +origin of his greatness he had for his crest a full-blown cabbage +painted on the panels, with the pithy motto, ALLES KOPF, that is to +say, ALL HEAD, meaning thereby that he had risen by sheer head +work. + +To fill the measure of his greatness, in the fullness of time the +renowned Ramm Rapelye slept with his fathers, and Wolfert Webber +succeeded to the leather-bottomed armchair in the inn parlor at +Corlear’s Hook; where he long reigned, greatly honored and +respected, insomuch that he was never known to tell a story without +its being believed, nor to utter a joke without its being laughed +at. + + + + +Introduction to “Wieland’s Madness,” from “Wieland, or The +Transformation.” + + + From Virtue’s blissful paths away + The double-tongued are sure to stray; + Good is a forth-right journey still. + And mazy paths but lead to ill. + + +“WIELAND” is the first American novel. It appeared in 1798; its +author was soon recognized as the earliest American novelist; and +he remained the greatest, until Fenimore Cooper brought forth his +Leather-stocking Tales, a quarter of a century later. + +Although modern sophistication easily points out flaws in Charles +Brockden Brown’s story-structure, and reproves him for +improbability, morbidness, and a style often too elevated, yet his +work lives. His downright originality is worthy of Cooper himself, +and his weird imaginations and horribly sustained scenes of terror +have been surpassed by few writers save Edgar Allan Poe. + + + + +Charles Brockden Brown + + + + +FIRST PART + + +I + + + + +Wieland’s Madness + + +[As the story opens, the narratress, Clara Wieland, is entering +upon the happy realization of her love for Henry Pleyel, closest +friend of her brother “Wieland.” + +Their woodland home, Mettingen, on the banks of the then remote +Schuylkill, is the abode of music, letters and thorough culture. +The peace of high thinking and simple outdoor life hovers over +all.] + + +One sunny afternoon I was standing in the door of my house, when I +marked a person passing close to the edge of the bank that was in +front. His pace was a careless and lingering one, and had none of +that gracefulness and ease which distinguish a person with certain +advantages of education from a clown. His gait was rustic and +awkward. His form was ungainly and disproportioned. Shoulders +broad and square, breast sunken, his head drooping, his body of +uniform breadth, supported by long and lank legs, were the +ingredients of his frame. His garb was not ill adapted to such a +figure. A slouched hat, tarnished by the weather, a coat of thick +gray cloth, cut and wrought, as it seemed, by a country tailor, +blue worsted stockings, and shoes fastened by thongs and deeply +discolored by dust, which brush had never disturbed, constituted +his dress. + +There was nothing remarkable in these appearances: they were +frequently to be met with on the road and in the harvest-field. I +cannot tell why I gazed upon them, on this occasion, with more than +ordinary attention, unless it were that such figures were seldom +seen by me except on the road or field. This lawn was only +traversed by men whose views were directed to the pleasures of the +walk or the grandeur of the scenery. + +He passed slowly along, frequently pausing, as if to examine the +prospect more deliberately, but never turning his eye toward the +house, so as to allow me a view of his countenance. Presently he +entered a copse at a small distance, and disappeared. My eye +followed him while he remained in sight. If his image remained for +any duration in my fancy after his departure, it was because no +other object occurred sufficient to expel it. + +I continued in the same spot for half an hour, vaguely, and by +fits, contemplating the image of this wanderer, and drawing from +outward appearances those inferences, with respect to the +intellectual history of this person, which experience affords us. +I reflected on the alliance which commonly subsists between +ignorance and the practice of agriculture, and indulged myself in +airy speculations as to the influence of progressive knowledge in +dissolving this alliance and embodying the dreams of the poets. I +asked why the plow and the hoe might not become the trade of every +human being, and how this trade might be made conducive to, or at +least consistent with, the acquisition of wisdom and eloquence. + +Weary with these reflections, I returned to the kitchen to perform +some household office. I had usually but one servant, and she was +a girl about my own age. I was busy near the chimney, and she was +employed near the door of the apartment, when some one knocked. +The door was opened by her, and she was immediately addressed with, +“Prythee, good girl, canst thou supply a thirsty man with a glass +of buttermilk?” She answered that there was none in the house. +“Aye, but there is some in the dairy yonder. Thou knowest as well +as I, though Hermes never taught thee, that, though every dairy be +a house, every house is not a dairy.” To this speech, though she +understood only a part of it, she replied by repeating her +assurances that she had none to give. “Well, then,” rejoined the +stranger, “for charity’s sweet sake, hand me forth a cup of cold +water.” The girl said she would go to the spring and fetch it. +“Nay, give me the cup, and suffer me to help myself. Neither +manacled nor lame, I should merit burial in the maw of carrion +crows if I laid this task upon thee.” She gave him the cup, and he +turned to go to the spring. + +I listened to this dialogue in silence. The words uttered by the +person without affected me as somewhat singular; but what chiefly +rendered them remarkable was the tone that accompanied them. It +was wholly new. My brother’s voice and Pleyel’s were musical and +energetic. I had fondly imagined that, in this respect, they were +surpassed by none. Now my mistake was detected. I cannot pretend +to communicate the impression that was made upon me by these +accents, or to depict the degree in which force and sweetness were +blended in them. They were articulated with a distinctness that +was unexampled in my experience. But this was not all. The voice +was not only mellifluent and clear, but the emphasis was so just, +and the modulation so impassioned, that it seemed as if a heart of +stone could not fail of being moved by it. It imparted to me an +emotion altogether involuntary and uncontrollable. When he uttered +the words, “for charity’s sweet sake,” I dropped the cloth that I +held in my hand; my heart overflowed with sympathy and my eyes with +unbidden tears. + +This description will appear to you trifling or incredible. The +importance of these circumstances will be manifested in the sequel. +The manner in which I was affected on this occasion was, to my own +apprehension, a subject of astonishment. The tones were indeed +such as I never heard before; but that they should in an instant, +as it were, dissolve me in tears, will not easily be believed by +others, and can scarcely be comprehended by myself. + +It will be readily supposed that I was somewhat inquisitive as to +the person and demeanor of our visitant. After a moment’s pause, I +stepped to the door and looked after him. Judge my surprise when I +beheld the selfsame figure that had appeared a half-hour before +upon the bank. My fancy had conjured up a very different image. A +form and attitude and garb were instantly created worthy to +accompany such elocution; but this person was, in all visible +respects, the reverse of this phantom. Strange as it may seem, I +could not speedily reconcile myself to this disappointment. +Instead of returning to my employment, I threw myself in a chair +that was placed opposite the door, and sunk into a fit of musing. + +My attention was in a few minutes recalled by the stranger, who +returned with the empty cup in his hand. I had not thought of the +circumstance, or should certainly have chosen a different seat. He +no sooner showed himself, than a confused sense of impropriety, +added to the suddenness of the interview, for which, not having +foreseen it, I had made no preparation, threw me into a state of +the most painful embarrassment. He brought with him a placid brow; +but no sooner had he cast his eyes upon me than his face was as +glowingly suffused as my own. He placed the cup upon the bench, +stammered out thanks, and retired. + +It was some time before I could recover my wonted composure. I had +snatched a view of the stranger’s countenance. The impression that +it made was vivid and indelible. His cheeks were pallid and lank, +his eyes sunken, his forehead overshadowed by coarse straggling +hairs, his teeth large and irregular, though sound and brilliantly +white, and his chin discolored by a tetter. His skin was of coarse +grain and sallow hue. Every feature was wide of beauty, and the +outline of his face reminded you of an inverted cone. + +And yet his forehead, so far as shaggy locks would allow it to be +seen, his eyes lustrously black, and possessing, in the midst of +haggardness, a radiance inexpressibly serene and potent, and +something in the rest of his features which it would be in vain to +describe, but which served to betoken a mind of the highest order, +were essential ingredients in the portrait. This, in the effects +which immediately flowed from it, I count among the most +extraordinary incidents of my life. This face, seen for a moment, +continued for hours to occupy my fancy, to the exclusion of almost +every other image. I had proposed to spend the evening with my +brother; but I could not resist the inclination of forming a sketch +upon paper of this memorable visage. Whether my hand was aided by +any peculiar inspiration, or I was deceived by my own fond +conceptions, this portrait, though hastily executed, appeared +unexceptionable to my own taste. + +I placed it at all distances and in all lights; my eyes were +riveted upon it. Half the night passed away in wakefulness and in +contemplation of this picture. So flexible, and yet so stubborn, +is the human mind! So obedient to impulses the most transient and +brief, and yet so unalterably observant of the direction which is +given to it! How little did I then foresee the termination of that +chain of which this may be regarded as the first link! + +Next day arose in darkness and storm. Torrents of rain fell during +the whole day, attended with incessant thunder, which reverberated +in stunning echoes from the opposite declivity. The inclemency of +the air would not allow me to walk out. I had, indeed, no +inclination to leave my apartment. I betook myself to the +contemplation of this portrait, whose attractions time had rather +enhanced than diminished. I laid aside my usual occupations, and, +seating myself at a window, consumed the day in alternately looking +out upon the storm and gazing at the picture which lay upon a table +before me. You will perhaps deem this conduct somewhat singular, +and ascribe it to certain peculiarities of temper. I am not aware +of any such peculiarities. I can account for my devotion to this +image no otherwise than by supposing that its properties were rare +and prodigious. Perhaps you will suspect that such were the first +inroads of a passion incident to every female heart, and which +frequently gains a footing by means even more slight and more +improbable than these. I shall not controvert the reasonableness +of the suspicion, but leave you at liberty to draw from my +narrative what conclusions you please. + +Night at length returned, and the storm ceased. The air was once +more clear and calm, and bore an affecting contrast to that uproar +of the elements by which it had been preceded. I spent the +darksome hours, as I spent the day, contemplative and seated at the +window. Why was my mind absorbed in thoughts ominous and dreary? +Why did my bosom heave with sighs and my eyes overflow with tears? +Was the tempest that had just passed a signal of the ruin which +impended over me? My soul fondly dwelt upon the images of my +brother and his children; yet they only increased the mournfulness +of my contemplations. The smiles of the charming babes were as +bland as formerly. The same dignity sat on the brow of their +father, and yet I thought of them with anguish. Something +whispered that the happiness we at present enjoyed was set on +mutable foundations. Death must happen to all. Whether our +felicity was to be subverted by it to-morrow, or whether it was +ordained that we should lay down our heads full of years and of +honor, was a question that no human being could solve. At other +times these ideas seldom intruded. I either forbore to reflect +upon the destiny that is reserved for all men, or the reflection +was mixed up with images that disrobed it of terror; but now the +uncertainty of life occurred to me without any of its usual and +alleviating accompaniments. I said to myself, We must die. Sooner +or later, we must disappear forever from the face of the earth. +Whatever be the links that hold us to life, they must be broken. +This scene of existence is, in all its parts, calamitous. The +greater number is oppressed with immediate evils, and those the +tide of whose fortunes is full, how small is their portion of +enjoyment, since they know that it will terminate! + +For some time I indulged myself, without reluctance, in these +gloomy thoughts; but at length the delection which they produced +became insupportably painful. I endeavored to dissipate it with +music. I had all my grandfather’s melody as well as poetry by +rote. I now lighted by chance on a ballad which commemorated the +fate of a German cavalier who fell at the siege of Nice under +Godfrey of Bouillon. My choice was unfortunate; for the scenes of +violence and carnage which were here wildly but forcibly portrayed +only suggested to my thoughts a new topic in the horrors of war. + +I sought refuge, but ineffectually, in sleep. My mind was thronged +by vivid but confused images, and no effort that I made was +sufficient to drive them away. In this situation I heard the +clock, which hung in the room, give the signal for twelve. It was +the same instrument which formerly hung in my father’s chamber, and +which, on account of its being his workmanship, was regarded by +everyone of our family with veneration. It had fallen to me in the +division of his property, and was placed in this asylum. The sound +awakened a series of reflections respecting his death. I was not +allowed to pursue them; for scarcely had the vibrations ceased, +when my attention was attracted by a whisper, which, at first, +appeared to proceed from lips that were laid close to my ear. + +No wonder that a circumstance like this startled me. In the first +impulse of my terror, I uttered a slight scream and shrunk to the +opposite side of the bed. In a moment, however, I recovered from +my trepidation. I was habitually indifferent to all the causes of +fear by which the majority are afflicted. I entertained no +apprehension of either ghosts or robbers. Our security had never +been molested by either, and I made use of no means to prevent or +counterwork their machinations. My tranquillity on this occasion +was quickly retrieved. The whisper evidently proceeded from one +who was posted at my bedside. The first idea that suggested itself +was that it was uttered by the girl who lived with me as a servant. +Perhaps somewhat had alarmed her, or she was sick, and had come to +request my assistance. By whispering in my ear she intended to +rouse without alarming me. + +Full of this persuasion, I called, “Judith, is it you? What do you +want? Is there anything the matter with you?” No answer was +returned. I repeated my inquiry, but equally in vain. Cloudy as +was the atmosphere, and curtained as my bed was, nothing was +visible. I withdrew the curtain, and, leaning my head on my elbow, +I listened with the deepest attention to catch some new sound. +Meanwhile, I ran over in my thoughts every circumstance that could +assist my conjectures. + +My habitation was a wooden edifice, consisting of two stories. In +each story were two rooms, separated by an entry, or middle +passage, with which they communicated by opposite doors. The +passage on the lower story had doors at the two ends, and a +staircase. Windows answered to the doors on the upper story. +Annexed to this, on the eastern side, were wings, divided in like +manner into an upper and lower room; one of them comprised a +kitchen, and chamber above it for the servant, and communicated on +both stories with the parlor adjoining it below and the chamber +adjoining it above. The opposite wing is of smaller dimensions, +the rooms not being above eight feet square. The lower of these +was used as a depository of household implements; the upper was a +closet in which I deposited my books and papers. They had but one +inlet, which was from the room adjoining. There was no window in +the lower one, and in the upper a small aperture which communicated +light and air, but would scarcely admit the body. The door which +led into this was close to my bed head, and was always locked but +when I myself was within. The avenues below were accustomed to be +closed and bolted at nights. + +The maid was my only companion; and she could not reach my chamber +without previously passing through the opposite chamber and the +middle passage, of which, however, the doors were usually +unfastened. If she had occasioned this noise, she would have +answered my repeated calls. No other conclusion, therefore, was +left me, but that I had mistaken the sounds, and that my +imagination had transformed some casual noise into the voice of a +human creature. Satisfied with this solution, I was preparing to +relinquish my listening attitude, when my ear was again saluted +with a new and yet louder whispering. It appeared, as before, to +issue from lips that touched my pillow. A second effort of +attention, however, clearly showed me that the sounds issued from +within the closet, the door of which was not more than eight inches +from my pillow. + +This second interruption occasioned a shock less vehement than the +former. I started, but gave no audible token of alarm. I was so +much mistress of my feelings as to continue listening to what +should be said. The whisper was distinct, hoarse, and uttered so +as to show that the speaker was desirous of being heard by some one +near, but, at the same time, studious to avoid being overheard by +any other:— + +“Stop! stop, I say, madman as you are! there are better means than +that. Curse upon your rashness! There is no need to shoot.” + +Such were the words uttered, in a tone of eagerness and anger, +within so small a distance of my pillow. What construction could I +put upon them? My heart began to palpitate with dread of some +unknown danger. Presently, another voice, but equally near me, was +heard whispering in answer, “Why not? I will draw a trigger in +this business; but perdition be my lot if I do more!” To this the +first voice returned, in a tone which rage had heightened in a +small degree above a whisper, “Coward! stand aside, and see me do +it. I will grasp her throat; I will do her business in an instant; +she shall not have time so much as to groan.” What wonder that I +was petrified by sounds so dreadful! Murderers lurked in my +closet. They were planning the means of my destruction. One +resolved to shoot, and the other menaced suffocation. Their means +being chosen, they would forthwith break the door. Flight +instantly suggested itself as most eligible in circumstances so +perilous. I deliberated not a moment; but, fear adding wings to my +speed, I leaped out of bed, and, scantily robed as I was, rushed +out of the chamber, downstairs, and into the open air. I can +hardly recollect the process of turning keys and withdrawing bolts. +My terrors urged me forward with almost a mechanical impulse. I +stopped not till I reached my brother’s door. I had not gained the +threshold, when, exhausted by the violence of my emotions and by my +speed, I sunk down in a fit. + +How long I remained in this situation I know not. When I +recovered, I found myself stretched on a bed, surrounded by my +sister and her female servants. I was astonished at the scene +before me, but gradually recovered the recollection of what had +happened. I answered their importunate inquiries as well as I was +able. My brother and Pleyel, whom the storm of the preceding day +chanced to detain here, informing themselves of every particular, +proceeded with lights and weapons to my deserted habitation. They +entered my chamber and my closet, and found everything in its +proper place and customary order. The door of the closet was +locked, and appeared not to have been opened in my absence. They +went to Judith’s apartment. They found her asleep and in safety. +Pleyel’s caution induced him to forbear alarming the girl; and, +finding her wholly ignorant of what had passed, they directed her +to return to her chamber. They then fastened the doors and +returned. + +My friends were disposed to regard this transaction as a dream. +That persons should be actually immured in this closet, to which, +in the circumstances of the time, access from without or within was +apparently impossible, they could not seriously believe. That any +human beings had intended murder, unless it were to cover a scheme +of pillage, was incredible; but that no such design had been formed +was evident from the security in which the furniture of the house +and the closet remained. + +I revolved every incident and expression that had occurred. My +senses assured me of the truth of them; and yet their abruptness +and improbability made me, in my turn, somewhat incredulous. The +adventure had made a deep impression on my fancy; and it was not +till after a week’s abode at my brother’s that I resolved to resume +the possession of my own dwelling. + +There was another circumstance that enhanced the mysteriousness of +this event. After my recovery, it was obvious to inquire by what +means the attention of the family had been drawn to my situation. +I had fallen before I had reached the threshold or was able to give +any signal. My brother related that, while this was transacting in +my chamber, he himself was awake, in consequence of some slight +indisposition, and lay, according to his custom, musing on some +favorite topic. Suddenly the silence, which was remarkably +profound, was broken by a voice of most piercing shrillness, that +seemed to be uttered by one in the hall below his chamber. “Awake! +arise!” it exclaimed; “hasten to succor one that is dying at your +door!” + +This summons was effectual. There was no one in the house who was +not roused by it. Pleyel was the first to obey, and my brother +overtook him before he reached the hall. What was the general +astonishment when your friend was discovered stretched upon the +grass before the door, pale, ghastly, and with every mark of death! + +But how was I to regard this midnight conversation? Hoarse and +manlike voices conferring on the means of death, so near my bed, +and at such an hour! How had my ancient security vanished! That +dwelling which had hitherto been an inviolate asylum was now beset +with danger to my life. That solitude formerly so dear to me could +no longer be endured. Pleyel, who had consented to reside with us +during the months of spring, lodged in the vacant chamber, in order +to quiet my alarms. He treated my fears with ridicule, and in a +short time very slight traces of them remained; but, as it was +wholly indifferent to him whether his nights were passed at my +house or at my brother’s, this arrangement gave general +satisfaction. + + +II + + +I will enumerate the various inquiries and conjectures which these +incidents occasioned. After all our efforts, we came no nearer to +dispelling the mist in which they were involved; and time, instead +of facilitating a solution, only accumulated our doubts. + +In the midst of thoughts excited by these events, I was not +unmindful of my interview with the stranger. I related the +particulars, and showed the portrait to my friends. Pleyel +recollected to have met with a figure resembling my description in +the city; but neither his face or garb made the same impression +upon him that it made upon me. It was a hint to rally me upon my +prepossessions, and to amuse us with a thousand ludicrous anecdotes +which he had collected in his travels. He made no scruple to +charge me with being in love; and threatened to inform the swain, +when he met him, of his good fortune. + +Pleyel’s temper made him susceptible of no durable impressions. +His conversation was occasionally visited by gleams of his ancient +vivacity; but, though his impetuosity was sometimes inconvenient, +there was nothing to dread from his malice. I had no fear that my +character or dignity would suffer in his hands, and was not +heartily displeased when he declared his intention of profiting by +his first meeting with the stranger to introduce him to our +acquaintance. + +Some weeks after this I had spent a toilsome day, and, as the sun +declined, found myself disposed to seek relief in a walk. The +river bank is, at this part of it and for some considerable space +upward, so rugged and steep as not to be easily descended. In a +recess of this declivity, near the southern verge of my little +demesne, was placed a slight building, with seats and lattices. +From a crevice of the rock to which this edifice was attached there +burst forth a stream of the purest water, which, leaping from ledge +to ledge for the space of sixty feet, produced a freshness in the +air, and a murmur, the most delicious and soothing imaginable. +These, added to the odors of the cedars which embowered it, and of +the honeysuckle which clustered among the lattices, rendered this +my favorite retreat in summer. + +On this occasion I repaired hither. My spirits drooped through the +fatigue of long attention, and I threw myself upon a bench, in a +state, both mentally and personally, of the utmost supineness. The +lulling sounds of the waterfall, the fragrance, and the dusk, +combined to becalm my spirits, and, in a short time, to sink me +into sleep. Either the uneasiness of my posture, or some slight +indisposition, molested my repose with dreams of no cheerful hue. +After various incoherences had taken their turn to occupy my fancy, +I at length imagined myself walking, in the evening twilight, to my +brother’s habitation. A pit, methought, had been dug in the path I +had taken, of which I was not aware. As I carelessly pursued my +walk, I thought I saw my brother standing at some distance before +me, beckoning and calling me to make haste. He stood on the +opposite edge of the gulf. I mended my pace, and one step more +would have plunged me into this abyss, had not some one from behind +caught suddenly my arm, and exclaimed, in a voice of eagerness and +terror, “Hold! hold!” + +The sound broke my sleep, and I found myself, at the next moment, +standing on my feet, and surrounded by the deepest darkness. +Images so terrific and forcible disabled me for a time from +distinguishing between sleep and wakefulness, and withheld from me +the knowledge of my actual condition. My first panic was succeeded +by the perturbations of surprise to find myself alone in the open +air and immersed in so deep a gloom. I slowly recollected the +incidents of the afternoon, and how I came hither. I could not +estimate the time, but saw the propriety of returning with speed to +the house. My faculties were still too confused, and the darkness +too intense, to allow me immediately to find my way up the steep. +I sat down, therefore, to recover myself, and to reflect upon my +situation. + +This was no sooner done, than a low voice was heard from behind the +lattice, on the side where I sat. Between the rock and the lattice +was a chasm not wide enough to admit a human body; yet in this +chasm he that spoke appeared to be stationed. “Attend! attend! but +be not terrified.” + +I started, and exclaimed, “Good heavens! what is that? Who are +you?” + +“A friend; one come not to injure but to save you: fear nothing.” + +This voice was immediately recognized to be the same with one of +those which I had heard in the closet; it was the voice of him who +had proposed to shoot rather than to strangle his victim. My +terror made me at once mute and motionless. He continued, “I +leagued to murder you. I repent. Mark my bidding, and be safe. +Avoid this spot. The snares of death encompass it. Elsewhere +danger will be distant; but this spot, shun it as you value your +life. Mark me further: profit by this warning, but divulge it not. +If a syllable of what has passed escape you, your doom is sealed. +Remember your father, and be faithful.” + +Here the accents ceased, and left me overwhelmed with dismay. I +was fraught with the persuasion that during every moment I remained +here my life was endangered; but I could not take a step without +hazard of falling to the bottom of the precipice. The path leading +to the summit was short, but rugged and intricate. Even starlight +was excluded by the umbrage, and not the faintest gleam was +afforded to guide my steps. What should I do? To depart or remain +was equally and eminently perilous. + +In this state of uncertainty, I perceived a ray flit across the +gloom and disappear. Another succeeded, which was stronger, and +remained for a passing moment. It glittered on the shrubs that +were scattered at the entrance, and gleam continued to succeed +gleam for a few seconds, till they finally gave place to +unintermitted darkness. + +The first visitings of this light called up a train of horrors in +my mind; destruction impended over this spot; the voice which I had +lately heard had warned me to retire, and had menaced me with the +fate of my father if I refused. I was desirous, but unable to +obey; these gleams were such as preluded the stroke by which he +fell; the hour, perhaps, was the same. I shuddered as if I had +beheld suspended over me the exterminating sword. + +Presently a new and stronger illumination burst through the lattice +on the right hand, and a voice from the edge of the precipice above +called out my name. It was Pleyel. Joyfully did I recognize his +accents; but such was the tumult of my thoughts that I had not +power to answer him till he had frequently repeated his summons. I +hurried at length from the fatal spot, and, directed by the lantern +which he bore, ascended the hill. + +Pale and breathless, it was with difficulty I could support myself. +He anxiously inquired into the cause of my affright and the motive +of my unusual absence. He had returned from my brother’s at a late +hour, and was informed by Judith that I had walked out before +sunset and had not yet returned. This intelligence was somewhat +alarming. He waited some time; but, my absence continuing, he had +set out in search of me. He had explored the neighborhood with the +utmost care, but, receiving no tidings of me, he was preparing to +acquaint my brother with this circumstance, when he recollected the +summer-house on the bank, and conceived it possible that some +accident had detained me there. He again inquired into the cause +of this detention, and of that confusion and dismay which my looks +testified. + +I told him that I had strolled hither in the afternoon, that sleep +had overtaken me as I sat, and that I had awakened a few minutes +before his arrival. I could tell him no more. In the present +impetuosity of my thoughts, I was almost dubious whether the pit +into which my brother had endeavored to entice me, and the voice +that talked through the lattice, were not parts of the same dream. +I remembered, likewise, the charge of secrecy, and the penalty +denounced if I should rashly divulge what I had heard. For these +reasons I was silent on that subject, and, shutting myself in my +chamber, delivered myself up to contemplation. + +What I have related will, no doubt, appear to you a fable. You +will believe that calamity has subverted my reason, and that I am +amusing you with the chimeras of my brain instead of facts that +have really happened. I shall not be surprised or offended if +these be your suspicions. I know not, indeed, how you can deny +them admission. For, if to me, the immediate witness, they were +fertile of perplexity and doubt, how must they affect another to +whom they are recommended only by my testimony? It was only by +subsequent events that I was fully and incontestably assured of the +veracity of my senses. + +Meanwhile, what was I to think? I had been assured that a design +had been formed against my life. The ruffians had leagued to +murder me. Whom had I offended? Who was there, with whom I had +ever maintained intercourse, who was capable of harboring such +atrocious purposes? + +My temper was the reverse of cruel and imperious. My heart was +touched with sympathy for the children of misfortune. But this +sympathy was not a barren sentiment. My purse, scanty as it was, +was ever open, and my hands ever active, to relieve distress. Many +were the wretches whom my personal exertions had extricated from +want and disease, and who rewarded me with their gratitude. There +was no face which lowered at my approach, and no lips which uttered +imprecations in my hearing. On the contrary, there was none, over +whose fate I had exerted any influence or to whom I was known by +reputation, who did not greet me with smiles and dismiss me with +proofs of veneration: yet did not my senses assure me that a plot +was laid against my life? + +I am not destitute of courage. I have shown myself deliberative +and calm in the midst of peril. I have hazarded my own life for +the preservation of another; but now was I confused and panic- +struck. I have not lived so as to fear death; yet to perish by an +unseen and secret stroke, to be mangled by the knife of an +assassin, was a thought at which I shuddered: what had I done to +deserve to be made the victim of malignant passions? + +But soft! was I not assured that my life was safe in all places but +one? And why was the treason limited to take effect in this spot? +I was everywhere equally defenseless. My house and chamber were at +all times accessible. Danger still impended over me; the bloody +purpose was still entertained, but the hand that was to execute it +was powerless in all places but one! + +Here I had remained for the last four or five hours, without the +means of resistance or defense; yet I had not been attacked. A +human being was at hand, who was conscious of my presence, and +warned me hereafter to avoid this retreat. His voice was not +absolutely new, but had I never heard it but once before? But why +did he prohibit me from relating this incident to others, and what +species of death will be awarded if I disobey? + +Such were the reflections that haunted me during the night, and +which effectually deprived me of sleep. Next morning, at +breakfast, Pleyel related an event which my disappearance had +hindered him from mentioning the night before. Early the preceding +morning, his occasions called him to the city: he had stepped into +a coffee-house to while away an hour; here he had met a person +whose appearance instantly bespoke him to be the same whose hasty +visit I have mentioned, and whose extraordinary visage and tones +had so powerfully affected me. On an attentive survey, however, he +proved, likewise, to be one with whom my friend had had some +intercourse in Europe. This authorized the liberty of accosting +him, and after some conversation, mindful, as Pleyel said, of the +footing which this stranger had gained in my heart, he had ventured +to invite him to Mettingen. The invitation had been cheerfully +accepted, and a visit promised on the afternoon of the next day. + +This information excited no sober emotions in my breast. I was, of +course, eager to be informed as to the circumstances of their +ancient intercourse. When and where had they met? What knew he of +the life and character of this man? + +In answer to my inquiries, he informed me that, three years before, +he was a traveler in Spain. He had made an excursion from Valencia +to Murviedro, with a view to inspect the remains of Roman +magnificence scattered in the environs of that town. While +traversing the site of the theater of old Saguntum, he alighted +upon this man, seated on a stone, and deeply engaged in perusing +the work of the deacon Marti. A short conversation ensued, which +proved the stranger to be English. They returned to Valencia +together. + +His garb, aspect, and deportment were wholly Spanish. A residence +of three years in the country, indefatigable attention to the +language, and a studious conformity with the customs of the people, +had made him indistinguishable from a native when he chose to +assume that character. Pleyel found him to be connected, on the +footing of friendship and respect, with many eminent merchants in +that city. He had embraced the Catholic religion, and adopted a +Spanish name instead of his own, which was CARWIN, and devoted +himself to the literature and religion of his new country. He +pursued no profession, but subsisted on remittances from England. + +While Pleyel remained in Valencia, Carwin betrayed no aversion to +intercourse, and the former found no small attractions in the +society of this new acquaintance, On general topics he was highly +intelligent and communicative. He had visited every corner of +Spain, and could furnish the most accurate details respecting its +ancient and present state. On topics of religion and of his own +history, previous to his TRANSFORMATION into a Spaniard, he was +invariably silent. You could merely gather from his discourse that +he was English, and that he was well acquainted with the +neighboring countries. + +His character excited considerable curiosity in the observer. It +was not easy to reconcile his conversion to the Romish faith with +those proofs of knowledge and capacity that were exhibited by him +on different occasions. A suspicion was sometimes admitted that +his belief was counterfeited for some political purpose. The most +careful observation, however, produced no discovery. His manners +were at all times harmless and inartificial, and his habits those +of a lover of contemplation and seclusion. He appeared to have +contracted an affection for Pleyel, who was not slow to return it. + +My friend, after a month’s residence in this city, returned into +France, and, since that period, had heard nothing concerning Carwin +till his appearance at Mettingen. + +On this occasion Carwin had received Pleyel’s greeting with a +certain distance and solemnity to which the latter had not been +accustomed. He had waived noticing the inquiries of Pleyel +respecting his desertion of Spain, in which he had formerly +declared that it was his purpose to spend his life. He had +assiduously diverted the attention of the latter to indifferent +topics, but was still, on every theme, as eloquent and judicious as +formerly. Why he had assumed the garb of a rustic Pleyel was +unable to conjecture. Perhaps it might be poverty; perhaps he was +swayed by motives which it was his interest to conceal, but which +were connected with consequences of the utmost moment. + +Such was the sum of my friend’s information. I was not sorry to be +left alone during the greater part of this day. Every employment +was irksome which did not leave me at liberty to meditate. I had +now a new subject on which to exercise my thoughts. Before evening +I should be ushered into his presence, and listen to those tones +whose magical and thrilling power I had already experienced. But +with what new images would he then be accompanied? + +Carwin was an adherent to the Romish faith, yet was an Englishman +by birth, and, perhaps, a Protestant by education. He had adopted +Spain for his country, and had intimated a design to spend his days +there, yet now was an inhabitant of this district, and disguised by +the habiliments of a clown! What could have obliterated the +impressions of his youth and made him abjure his religion and his +country? What subsequent events had introduced so total a change +in his plans? In withdrawing from Spain, had he reverted to the +religion of his ancestors? or was it true that his former +conversion was deceitful, and that his conduct had been swayed by +motives which it was prudent to conceal? + +Hours were consumed in revolving these ideas. My meditations were +intense; and, when the series was broken, I began to reflect with +astonishment on my situation. From the death of my parents till +the commencement of this year my life had been serene and blissful +beyond the ordinary portion of humanity; but now my bosom was +corroded by anxiety. I was visited by dread of unknown dangers, +and the future was a scene over which clouds rolled and thunders +muttered. I compared the cause with the effect, and they seemed +disproportioned to each other. All unaware, and in a manner which +I had no power to explain, I was pushed from my immovable and lofty +station and cast upon a sea of troubles. + +I determined to be my brother’s visitant on this evening; yet my +resolves were not unattended with wavering and reluctance. +Pleyel’s insinuations that I was in love affected in no degree my +belief; yet the consciousness that this was the opinion of one who +would probably be present at our introduction to each other would +excite all that confusion which the passion itself is apt to +produce. This would confirm him in his error and call forth new +railleries. His mirth, when exerted upon this topic, was the +source of the bitterest vexation. Had he been aware of its +influence upon my happiness, his temper would not have allowed him +to persist; but this influence it was my chief endeavor to conceal. +That the belief of my having bestowed my heart upon another +produced in my friend none but ludicrous sensations was the true +cause of my distress; but if this had been discovered by him my +distress would have been unspeakably aggravated. + + +III + + +As soon as evening arrived, I performed my visit. Carwin made one +of the company into which I was ushered. Appearances were the same +as when I before beheld him. His garb was equally negligent and +rustic. I gazed upon his countenance with new curiosity. My +situation was such as to enable me to bestow upon it a deliberate +examination. Viewed at more leisure, it lost none of its wonderful +properties. I could not deny my homage to the intelligence +expressed in it, but was wholly uncertain whether he were an object +to be dreaded or adored, and whether his powers had been exerted to +evil or to good. + +He was sparing in discourse; but whatever he said was pregnant with +meaning, and uttered with rectitude of articulation and force of +emphasis of which I had entertained no conception previously to my +knowledge of him. Notwithstanding the uncouthness of his garb, his +manners were not unpolished. All topics were handled by him with +skill, and without pedantry or affectation. He uttered no +sentiment calculated to produce a disadvantageous impression; on +the contrary, his observations denoted a mind alive to every +generous and heroic feeling. They were introduced without parade, +and accompanied with that degree of earnestness which indicates +sincerity. + +He parted from us not till late, refusing an invitation to spend +the night here, but readily consented to repeat his visit. His +visits were frequently repeated. Each day introduced us to a more +intimate acquaintance with his sentiments, but left us wholly in +the dark concerning that about which we were most inquisitive. He +studiously avoided all mention of his past or present situation. +Even the place of his abode in the city he concealed from us. + +Our sphere in this respect being somewhat limited, and the +intellectual endowments of this man being indisputably great, his +deportment was more diligently marked and copiously commented on by +us than you, perhaps, will think the circumstances warranted. Not +a gesture, or glance, or accent, that was not, in our private +assemblies, discussed, and inferences deduced from it. It may well +be thought that he modeled his behavior by an uncommon standard, +when, with all our opportunities and accuracy of observation, we +were able for a long time to gather no satisfactory information. +He afforded us no ground on which to build even a plausible +conjecture. + +There is a degree of familiarity which takes place between constant +associates, that justifies the negligence of many rules of which, +in an earlier period of their intercourse, politeness requires the +exact observance. Inquiries into our condition are allowable when +they are prompted by a disinterested concern for our welfare; and +this solicitude is not only pardonable, but may justly be demanded +from those who choose us for their companions. This state of +things was more slow to arrive at on this occasion than on most +others, on account of the gravity and loftiness of this man’s +behavior. + +Pleyel, however, began at length to employ regular means for this +end. He occasionally alluded to the circumstances in which they +had formerly met, and remarked the incongruousness between the +religion and habits of a Spaniard with those of a native of +Britain. He expressed his astonishment at meeting our guest in +this corner of the globe, especially as, when they parted in Spain, +he was taught to believe that Carwin should never leave that +country. He insinuated that a change so great must have been +prompted by motives of a singular and momentous kind. + +No answer, or an answer wide of the purpose, was generally made to +these insinuations. Britons and Spaniards, he said, are votaries +of the same Deity, and square their faith by the same precepts; +their ideas are drawn from the same fountains of literature, and +they speak dialects of the same tongue; their government and laws +have more resemblances than differences; they were formerly +provinces of the same civil, and, till lately, of the same +religious, empire. + +As to the motives which induce men to change the place of their +abode, these must unavoidably be fleeting and mutable. If not +bound to one spot by conjugal or parental ties, or by the nature of +that employment to which we are indebted for subsistence, the +inducements to change are far more numerous and powerful than +opposite inducements. + +He spoke as if desirous of showing that he was not aware of the +tendency of Pleyel’s remarks; yet certain tokens were apparent that +proved him by no means wanting in penetration. These tokens were +to be read in his countenance, and not in his words. When anything +was said indicating curiosity in us, the gloom of his countenance +was deepened, his eyes sunk to the ground, and his wonted air was +not resumed without visible struggle. Hence, it was obvious to +infer that some incidents of his life were reflected on by him with +regret; and that, since these incidents were carefully concealed, +and even that regret which flowed from them laboriously stifled, +they had not been merely disastrous. The secrecy that was observed +appeared not designed to provoke or baffle the inquisitive, but was +prompted by the shame or by the prudence of guilt. + +These ideas, which were adopted by Pleyel and my brother as well as +myself, hindered us from employing more direct means for +accomplishing our wishes. Questions might have been put in such +terms that no room should be left for the pretense of misapprehension; +and, if modesty merely had been the obstacle, such questions would +not have been wanting; but we considered that, if the disclosure +were productive of pain or disgrace, it was inhuman to extort it. + +Amidst the various topics that were discussed in his presence, +allusions were, of course, made to the inexplicable events that had +lately happened. At those times the words and looks of this man +were objects of my particular attention. The subject was +extraordinary; and anyone whose experience or reflections could +throw any light upon it was entitled to my gratitude. As this man +was enlightened by reading and travel, I listened with eagerness to +the remarks which he should make. + +At first I entertained a kind of apprehension that the tale would +be heard by him with incredulity and secret ridicule. I had +formerly heard stories that resembled this in some of their +mysterious circumstances; but they were commonly heard by me with +contempt. I was doubtful whether the same impression would not now +be made on the mind of our guest; but I was mistaken in my fears. + +He heard them with seriousness, and without any marks either of +surprise or incredulity. He pursued with visible pleasure that +kind of disquisition which was naturally suggested by them. His +fancy was eminently vigorous and prolific; and, if he did not +persuade us that human beings are sometimes admitted to a sensible +intercourse with the Author of nature, he at least won over our +inclination to the cause. He merely deduced, from his own +reasonings, that such intercourse was probable, but confessed that, +though he was acquainted with many instances somewhat similar to +those which had been related by us, none of them were perfectly +exempted from the suspicion of human agency. + +On being requested to relate these instances, he amused us with +many curious details. His narratives were constructed with so much +skill, and rehearsed with so much energy, that all the effects of a +dramatic exhibition were frequently produced by them. Those that +were most coherent and most minute, and, of consequence, least +entitled to credit, were yet rendered probable by the exquisite art +of this rhetorician. For every difficulty that was suggested a +ready and plausible solution was furnished. Mysterious voices had +always a share in producing the catastrophe; but they were always +to be explained on some known principles, either as reflected into +a focus or communicated through a tube. I could not but remark +that his narratives, however complex or marvelous, contained no +instance sufficiently parallel to those that had befallen +ourselves, and in which the solution was applicable to our own +case. + +My brother was a much more sanguine reasoner than our guest. Even +in some of the facts which were related by Carwin, he maintained +the probability of celestial interference, when the latter was +disposed to deny it, and had found, as he imagined, footsteps of a +human agent. Pleyel was by no means equally credulous. He +scrupled not to deny faith to any testimony but that of his senses, +and allowed the facts which had lately been supported by this +testimony not to mold his belief, but merely to give birth to +doubts. + +It was soon observed that Carwin adopted, in some degree, a similar +distinction. A tale of this kind, related by others, he would +believe, provided it was explicable upon known principles; but that +such notices were actually communicated by beings of a higher order +he would believe only when his own ears were assailed in a manner +which could not be otherwise accounted for. Civility forbade him +to contradict my brother or myself, but his understanding refused +to acquiesce in our testimony. Besides, he was disposed to +question whether the voices were not really uttered by human +organs. On this supposition he was desired to explain how the +effect was produced. + +He answered that the cry for help, heard in the hall on the night +of my adventure, was to be ascribed to a human creature, who +actually stood in the hall when he uttered it. It was of no +moment, he said, that we could not explain by what motives he that +made the signal was led hither. How imperfectly acquainted were we +with the condition and designs of the beings that surrounded us! +The city was near at hand, and thousands might there exist whose +powers and purposes might easily explain whatever was mysterious in +this transaction. As to the closet dialogue, he was obliged to +adopt one of two suppositions, and affirm either that it was +fashioned in my own fancy, or that it actually took place between +two persons in the closet. + +Such was Carwin’s mode of explaining these appearances. It is +such, perhaps, as would commend itself as most plausible to the +most sagacious minds; but it was insufficient to impart conviction +to us. As to the treason that was meditated against me, it was +doubtless just to conclude that it was either real or imaginary; +but that it was real was attested by the mysterious warning in the +summer-house, the secret of which I had hitherto locked up in my +own breast. + +A month passed away in this kind of intercourse. As to Carwin, our +ignorance was in no degree enlightened respecting his genuine +character and views. Appearances were uniform. No man possessed a +larger store of knowledge, or a greater degree of skill in the +communication of it to others; hence he was regarded as an +inestimable addition to our society. Considering the distance of +my brother’s house from the city, he was frequently prevailed upon +to pass the night where he spent the evening. Two days seldom +elapsed without a visit from him; hence he was regarded as a kind +of inmate of the house. He entered and departed without ceremony. +When he arrived he received an unaffected welcome, and when he +chose to retire no importunities were used to induce him to remain. + +Carwin never parted with his gravity. The inscrutableness of his +character, and the uncertainty whether his fellowship tended to +good or to evil, were seldom absent from our minds. This +circumstance powerfully contributed to sadden us. + +My heart was the seat of growing disquietudes. This change in one +who had formerly been characterized by all the exuberances of soul +could not fail to be remarked by my friends. My brother was always +a pattern of solemnity. My sister was clay, molded by the +circumstances in which she happened to be placed. There was but +one whose deportment remains to be described as being of importance +to our happiness. Had Pleyel likewise dismissed his vivacity? + +He was as whimsical and jestful as ever, but he was not happy. The +truth in this respect was of too much importance to me not to make +me a vigilant observer. His mirth was easily perceived to be the +fruit of exertion. When his thoughts wandered from the company, an +air of dissatisfaction and impatience stole across his features. +Even the punctuality and frequency of his visits were somewhat +lessened. It may be supposed that my own uneasiness was heightened +by these tokens; but, strange as it may seem, I found, in the +present state of my mind, no relief but in the persuasion that +Pleyel was unhappy. + +That unhappiness, indeed, depended for its value in my eyes on the +cause that produced it. There was but one source whence it could +flow. A nameless ecstasy thrilled through my frame when any new +proof occurred that the ambiguousness of my behavior was the cause. + + +IV + + +My brother had received a new book from Germany. It was a tragedy, +and the first attempt of a Saxon poet of whom my brother had been +taught to entertain the highest expectations. The exploits of +Zisca, the Bohemian hero, were woven into a dramatic series and +connection. According to German custom, it was minute and diffuse, +and dictated by an adventurous and lawless fancy. It was a chain +of audacious acts and unheard-of disasters. The moated fortress +and the thicket, the ambush and the battle, and the conflict of +headlong passions, were portrayed in wild numbers and with terrific +energy. An afternoon was set apart to rehearse this performance. +The language was familiar to all of us but Carwin, whose company, +therefore, was tacitly dispensed with. + +The morning previous to this intended rehearsal I spent at home. +My mind was occupied with reflections relative to my own situation. +The sentiment which lived with chief energy in my heart was +connected with the image of Pleyel. In the midst of my anguish, I +had not been destitute of consolation. His late deportment had +given spring to my hopes. Was not the hour at hand which should +render me the happiest of human creatures? He suspected that I +looked with favorable eyes upon Carwin. Hence arose disquietudes +which he struggled in vain to conceal. He loved me, but was +hopeless that his love would be compensated. Is it not time, said +I, to rectify this error? But by what means is this to be +effected? It can only be done by a change of deportment in me; but +how must I demean myself for this purpose? + +I must not speak. Neither eyes nor lips must impart the +information. He must not be assured that my heart is his, previous +to the tender of his own; but he must be convinced that it has not +been given to another; he must be supplied with space whereon to +build a doubt as to the true state of my affections; he must be +prompted to avow himself. The line of delicate propriety,—how +hard it is not to fall short, and not to overleap it! + +This afternoon we shall meet.... We shall not separate till +late. It will be his province to accompany me home. The airy +expanse is without a speck. This breeze is usually steadfast, and +its promise of a bland and cloudless evening may be trusted. The +moon will rise at eleven, and at that hour we shall wind along this +bank. Possibly that hour may decide my fate. If suitable +encouragement be given, Pleyel will reveal his soul to me; and I, +ere I reach this threshold, will be made the happiest of beings. + +And is this good to be mine? Add wings to thy speed, sweet +evening; and thou, moon, I charge thee, shroud thy beams at the +moment when my Pleyel whispers love. I would not for the world +that the burning blushes and the mounting raptures of that moment +should be visible. + +But what encouragement is wanting? I must be regardful of +insurmountable limits. Yet, when minds are imbued with a genuine +sympathy, are not words and looks superfluous? Are not motion and +touch sufficient to impart feelings such as mine? Has he not eyed +me at moments when the pressure of his hand has thrown me into +tumults, and was it impossible that he mistook the impetuosities of +love for the eloquence of indignation? + +But the hastening evening will decide. Would it were come! And +yet I shudder at its near approach. An interview that must thus +terminate is surely to be wished for by me; and yet it is not +without its terrors. Would to heaven it were come and gone! + +I feel no reluctance, my friends, to be thus explicit. Time was, +when these emotions would be hidden with immeasurable solicitude +from every human eye. Alas! these airy and fleeting impulses of +shame are gone. My scruples were preposterous and criminal. They +are bred in all hearts by a perverse and vicious education, and +they would still have maintained their place in my heart, had not +my portion been set in misery. My errors have taught me thus much +wisdom:—that those sentiments which we ought not to disclose it is +criminal to harbor. + +It was proposed to begin the rehearsal at four o’clock. I counted +the minutes as they passed; their flight was at once too rapid and +too slow: my sensations were of an excruciating kind; I could taste +no food, nor apply to any task, nor enjoy a moment’s repose; when +the hour arrived I hastened to my brother’s. + +Pleyel was not there. He had not yet come. On ordinary occasions +he was eminent for punctuality. He had testified great eagerness +to share in the pleasures of this rehearsal. He was to divide the +task with my brother, and in tasks like these he always engaged +with peculiar zeal. His elocution was less sweet than sonorous, +and, therefore, better adapted than the mellifluences of his friend +to the outrageous vehemence of this drama. + +What could detain him? Perhaps he lingered through forgetfulness. +Yet this was incredible. Never had his memory been known to fail +upon even more trivial occasions. Not less impossible was it that +the scheme had lost its attractions, and that he stayed because his +coming would afford him no gratification. But why should we expect +him to adhere to the minute? + +A half-hour elapsed, but Pleyel was still at a distance. Perhaps +he had misunderstood the hour which had been proposed. Perhaps he +had conceived that to-morrow, and not to-day, had been selected for +this purpose; but no. A review of preceding circumstances +demonstrated that such misapprehension was impossible; for he had +himself proposed this day, and this hour. This day his attention +would not otherwise be occupied; but to-morrow an indispensable +engagement was foreseen, by which all his time would be engrossed; +his detention, therefore, must be owing to some unforeseen and +extraordinary event. Our conjectures were vague, tumultuous, and +sometimes fearful. His sickness and his death might possibly have +detained him. + +Tortured with suspense, we sat gazing at each other, and at the +path which led from the road. Every horseman that passed was, for +a moment, imagined to be him. Hour succeeded hour, and the sun, +gradually declining, at length disappeared. Every signal of his +coming proved fallacious, and our hopes were at length dismissed. +His absence affected my friends in no insupportable degree. They +should be obliged, they said, to defer this undertaking till the +morrow; and perhaps their impatient curiosity would compel them to +dispense entirely with his presence. No doubt some harmless +occurrence had diverted him from his purpose; and they trusted that +they should receive a satisfactory account of him in the morning. + +It may be supposed that this disappointment affected me in a very +different manner. I turned aside my head to conceal my tears. I +fled into solitude, to give vent to my reproaches without +interruption or restraint. My heart was ready to burst with +indignation and grief. Pleyel was not the only object of my keen +but unjust upbraiding. Deeply did I execrate my own folly. Thus +fallen into ruins was the gay fabric which I had reared! Thus had +my golden vision melted into air! + +How fondly did I dream that Pleyel was a lover! If he were, would +he have suffered any obstacle to hinder his coming? “Blind and +infatuated man!” I exclaimed. “Thou sportest with happiness. The +good that is offered thee thou hast the insolence and folly to +refuse. Well, I will henceforth intrust my felicity to no one’s +keeping but my own.” + +The first agonies of this disappointment would not allow me to be +reasonable or just. Every ground on which I had built the +persuasion that Pleyel was not unimpressed in my favor appeared to +vanish. It seemed as if I had been misled into this opinion by the +most palpable illusions. + +I made some trifling excuse, and returned, much earlier than I +expected, to my own house. I retired early to my chamber, without +designing to sleep. I placed myself at a window, and gave the +reins to reflection. + +The hateful and degrading impulses which had lately controlled me +were, in some degree, removed. New dejection succeeded, but was +now produced by contemplating my late behavior. Surely that +passion is worthy to be abhorred which obscures our understanding +and urges us to the commission of injustice. What right had I to +expect his attendance? Had I not demeaned myself like one +indifferent to his happiness, and as having bestowed my regards +upon another? His absence might be prompted by the love which I +considered his absence as a proof that he wanted. He came not +because the sight of me, the spectacle of my coldness or aversion, +contributed to his despair. Why should I prolong, by hypocrisy or +silence, his misery as well as my own? Why not deal with him +explicitly, and assure him of the truth? + +You will hardly believe that, in obedience to this suggestion, I +rose for the purpose of ordering a light, that I might instantly +make this confession in a letter. A second thought showed me the +rashness of this scheme, and I wondered by what infirmity of mind I +could be betrayed into a momentary approbation of it. I saw with +the utmost clearness that a confession like that would be the most +remediless and unpardonable outrage upon the dignity of my sex, and +utterly unworthy of that passion which controlled me. + +I resumed my seat and my musing. To account for the absence of +Pleyel became once more the scope of my conjectures. How many +incidents might occur to raise an insuperable impediment in his +way! When I was a child, a scheme of pleasure, in which he and his +sister were parties, had been in like manner frustrated by his +absence; but his absence, in that instance, had been occasioned by +his falling from a boat into the river, in consequence of which he +had run the most imminent hazard of being drowned. Here was a +second disappointment endured by the same persons, and produced by +his failure. Might it not originate in the same cause? Had he not +designed to cross the river that morning to make some necessary +purchases in New Jersey? He had preconcerted to return to his own +house to dinner but perhaps some disaster had befallen him. +Experience had taught me the insecurity of a canoe, and that was +the only kind of boat which Pleyel used; I was, likewise, actuated +by an hereditary dread of water. These circumstances combined to +bestow considerable plausibility on this conjecture; but the +consternation with which I began to be seized was allayed by +reflecting that, if this disaster had happened, my brother would +have received the speediest information of it. The consolation +which this idea imparted was ravished from me by a new thought. +This disaster might have happened, and his family not be apprised +of it. The first intelligence of his fate may be communicated by +the livid corpse which the tide may cast, many days hence, upon the +shore. + +Thus was I distressed by opposite conjectures; thus was I tormented +by phantoms of my own creation. It was not always thus. I can +ascertain the date when my mind became the victim of this +imbecility; perhaps it was coeval with the inroad of a fatal +passion,—a passion that will never rank me in the number of its +eulogists; it was alone sufficient to the extermination of my +peace; it was itself a plenteous source of calamity, and needed not +the concurrence of other evils to take away the attractions of +existence and dig for me an untimely grave. + +The state of my mind naturally introduced a train of reflections +upon the dangers and cares which inevitably beset a human being. +By no violent transition was I led to ponder on the turbulent life +and mysterious end of my father. I cherished with the utmost +veneration the memory of this man, and every relic connected with +his fate was preserved with the most scrupulous care. Among these +was to be numbered a manuscript containing memoirs of his own life. +The narrative was by no means recommended by its eloquence; but +neither did all its value flow from my relationship to the author. +Its style had an unaffected and picturesque simplicity. The great +variety and circumstantial display of the incidents, together with +their intrinsic importance as descriptive of human manners and +passions, made it the most useful book in my collection. It was +late: but, being sensible of no inclination to sleep, I resolved to +betake myself to the perusal of it. + +To do this, it was requisite to procure a light. The girl had long +since retired to her chamber: it was therefore proper to wait upon +myself. A lamp, and the means of lighting it, were only to be +found in the kitchen. Thither I resolved forthwith to repair; but +the light was of use merely to enable me to read the book. I knew +the shelf and the spot where it stood. Whether I took down the +book, or prepared the lamp in the first place, appeared to be a +matter of no moment. The latter was preferred, and, leaving my +seat, I approached the closet in which, as I mentioned formerly, my +books and papers were deposited. + +Suddenly the remembrance of what had lately passed in this closet +occurred. Whether midnight was approaching, or had passed, I knew +not. I was, as then, alone and defenseless. The wind was in that +direction in which, aided by the deathlike repose of nature, it +brought to me the murmur of the waterfall. This was mingled with +that solemn and enchanting sound which a breeze produces among the +leaves of pines. The words of that mysterious dialogue, their +fearful import, and the wild excess to which I was transported by +my terrors, filled my imagination anew. My steps faltered, and I +stood a moment to recover myself. + +I prevailed on myself at length to move toward the closet. I +touched the lock, but my fingers were powerless; I was visited +afresh by unconquerable apprehensions. A sort of belief darted +into my mind that some being was concealed within whose purposes +were evil. I began to contend with those fears, when it occurred +to me that I might, without impropriety, go for a lamp previously +to opening the closet. I receded a few steps; but before I reached +the chamber door my thoughts took a new direction. Motion seemed +to produce a mechanical influence upon me. I was ashamed of my +weakness. Besides, what aid could be afforded me by a lamp? + +My fears had pictured to themselves no precise object. It would be +difficult to depict in words the ingredients and hues of that +phantom which haunted me. A hand invisible and of preternatural +strength, lifted by human passions, and selecting my life for its +aim, were parts of this terrific image. All places were alike +accessible to this foe; or, if his empire were restricted by local +bounds, those bounds were utterly inscrutable by me. But had I not +been told, by some one in league with this enemy, that every place +but the recess in the bank was exempt from danger? + +I returned to the closet, and once more put my hand upon the lock. +Oh, may my ears lose their sensibility ere they be again assailed +by a shriek so terrible! Not merely my understanding was subdued +by the sound; it acted on my nerves like an edge of steel. It +appeared to cut asunder the fibers of my brain and rack every joint +with agony. + +The cry, loud and piercing as it was, was nevertheless human. No +articulation was ever more distinct. The breath which accompanied +it did not fan my hair, yet did every circumstance combine to +persuade me that the lips which uttered it touched my very +shoulder. + +“Hold! hold!” were the words of this tremendous prohibition, in +whose tone the whole soul seemed to be wrapped up, and every energy +converted into eagerness and terror. + +Shuddering, I dashed myself against the wall, and, by the same +involuntary impulse, turned my face backward to examine the +mysterious monitor. The moonlight streamed into each window, and +every corner of the room was conspicuous, and yet I beheld nothing! + +The interval was too brief to be artificially measured, between the +utterance of these words and my scrutiny directed to the quarter +whence they came. Yet, if a human being had been there, could he +fail to have been visible? Which of my senses was the prey of a +fatal illusion? The shock which the sound produced was still felt +in every part of my frame. The sound, therefore, could not but be +a genuine commotion. But that I had heard it was not more true +than that the being who uttered it was stationed at my right ear; +yet my attendant was invisible. + +I cannot describe the state of my thoughts at that moment. +Surprise had mastered my faculties. My frame shook, and the vital +current was congealed. I was conscious only of the vehemence of my +sensations. This condition could not be lasting. Like a tide, +which suddenly mounts to an overwhelming height and then gradually +subsides, my confusion slowly gave place to order, and my tumults +to a calm. I was able to deliberate and move. I resumed my feet, +and advanced into the midst of the room. Upward, and behind, and +on each side, I threw penetrating glances. I was not satisfied +with one examination. He that hitherto refused to be seen might +change his purpose, and on the next survey be clearly +distinguishable. + +Solitude imposes least restraint upon the fancy. Dark is less +fertile of images than the feeble luster of the moon. I was alone, +and the walls were checkered by shadowy forms. As the moon passed +behind a cloud and emerged, these shadows seemed to be endowed with +life, and to move. The apartment was open to the breeze, and the +curtain was occasionally blown from its ordinary position. This +motion was not unaccompanied with sound. I failed not to snatch a +look and to listen when this motion and this sound occurred. My +belief that my monitor was posted near was strong, and instantly +converted these appearances to tokens of his presence; and yet I +could discern nothing. + +When my thoughts were at length permitted to revert to the past, +the first idea that occurred was the resemblance between the words +of the voice which I had just heard and those which had terminated +my dream in the summer-house. There are means by which we are able +to distinguish a substance from a shadow, a reality from the +phantom of a dream. The pit, my brother beckoning me forward, the +seizure of my arm, and the voice behind, were surely imaginary. +That these incidents were fashioned in my sleep is supported by the +same indubitable evidence that compels me to believe myself awake +at present; yet the words and the voice were the same. Then, by +some inexplicable contrivance, I was aware of the danger, while my +actions and sensations were those of one wholly unacquainted with +it. Now, was it not equally true that my actions and persuasions +were at war? Had not the belief that evil lurked in the closet +gained admittance, and had not my actions betokened an +unwarrantable security? To obviate the effects of my infatuation, +the same means had been used. + +In my dream, he that tempted me to my destruction was my brother. +Death was ambushed in my path. From what evil was I now rescued? +What minister or implement of ill was shut up in this recess? Who +was it whose suffocating grasp I was to feel should I dare to enter +it? What monstrous conception is this? My brother? + +No; protection, and not injury, is his province. Strange and +terrible chimera! Yet it would not be suddenly dismissed. It was +surely no vulgar agency that gave this form to my fears. He to +whom all parts of time are equally present, whom no contingency +approaches, was the author of that spell which now seized upon me. +Life was dear to me. No consideration was present that enjoined me +to relinquish it. Sacred duty combined with every spontaneous +sentiment to endear to me my being. Should I not shudder when my +being was endangered? But what emotion should possess me when the +arm lifted against me was Wieland’s? + +Ideas exist in our minds that can be accounted for by no +established laws. Why did I dream that my brother was my foe? Why +but because an omen of my fate was ordained to be communicated? +Yet what salutary end did it serve? Did it arm me with caution to +elude or fortitude to bear the evils to which I was reserved? My +present thoughts were, no doubt, indebted for their hue to the +similitude existing between these incidents and those of my dream. +Surely it was frenzy that dictated my deed. That a ruffian was +hidden in the closet was an idea the genuine tendency of which was +to urge me to flight. Such had been the effect formerly produced. +Had my mind been simply occupied with this thought at present, no +doubt the same impulse would have been experienced; but now it was +my brother whom I was irresistibly persuaded to regard as the +contriver of that ill of which I had been forewarned. This +persuasion did not extenuate my fears or my danger. Why then did I +again approach the closet and withdraw the bolt? My resolution was +instantly conceived, and executed without faltering. + +The door was formed of light materials. The lock, of simple +structure, easily forewent its hold. It opened into the room, and +commonly moved upon its hinges, after being unfastened, without any +effort of mine. This effort, however, was bestowed upon the +present occasion. It was my purpose to open it with quickness; but +the exertion which I made was ineffectual. It refused to open. + +At another time, this circumstance would not have looked with a +face of mystery. I should have supposed some casual obstruction +and repeated my efforts to surmount it. But now my mind was +accessible to no conjecture but one. The door was hindered from +opening by human force. Surely, here was a new cause for affright. +This was confirmation proper to decide my conduct. Now was all +ground of hesitation taken away. What could be supposed but that I +deserted the chamber and the house? that I at least endeavored no +longer to withdraw the door? + +Have I not said that my actions were dictated by frenzy? My reason +had forborne, for a time, to suggest or to sway my resolves. I +reiterated my endeavors. I exerted all my force to overcome the +obstacle, but in vain. The strength that was exerted to keep it +shut was superior to mine. + +A casual observer might, perhaps, applaud the audaciousness of this +conduct. Whence, but from a habitual defiance of danger, could my +perseverance arise? I have already assigned, as distinctly as I am +able, the cause of it. The frantic conception that my brother was +within, that the resistance made to my design was exerted by him, +had rooted itself in my mind. You will comprehend the height of +this infatuation, when I tell you that, finding all my exertions +vain, I betook myself to exclamations. Surely I was utterly bereft +of understanding. + +Now I had arrived at the crisis of my fate. “Oh, hinder not the +door to open,” I exclaimed, in a tone that had less of fear than of +grief in it. “I know you well. Come forth, but harm me not. I +beseech you, come forth.” + +I had taken my hand from the lock and removed to a small distance +from the door. I had scarcely uttered these words, when the door +swung upon its hinges and displayed to my view the interior of the +closet. Whoever was within was shrouded in darkness. A few +seconds passed without interruption of the silence. I knew not +what to expect or to fear. My eyes would not stray from the +recess. Presently, a deep sigh was heard. The quarter from which +it came heightened the eagerness of my gaze. Some one approached +from the farther end. I quickly perceived the outlines of a human +figure. Its steps were irresolute and slow. I recoiled as it +advanced. + +By coming at length within the verge of the room, his form was +clearly distinguishable. I had prefigured to myself a very +different personage. The face that presented itself was the last +that I should desire to meet at an hour and in a place like this. +My wonder was stifled by my fears. Assassins had lurked in this +recess. Some divine voice warned me of danger that at this moment +awaited me. I had spurned the intimation, and challenged my +adversary. + +I recalled the mysterious countenance and dubious character of +Carwin. What motive but atrocious ones could guide his steps +hither? I was alone. My habit suited the hour, and the place, and +the warmth of the season. All succor was remote. He had placed +himself between me and the door. My frame shook with the vehemence +of my apprehensions. + +Yet I was not wholly lost to myself; I vigilantly marked his +demeanor. His looks were grave, but not without perturbation. +What species of inquietude it betrayed the light was not strong +enough to enable me to discover. He stood still; but his eyes +wandered from one object to another. When these powerful organs +were fixed upon me, I shrunk into myself. At length he broke +silence. Earnestness, and not embarrassment, was in his tone. He +advanced close to me while he spoke:— + +“What voice was that which lately addressed you?” + +He paused for an answer; but, observing my trepidation, he resumed, +with undiminished solemnity, “Be not terrified. Whoever he was, he +has done you an important service. I need not ask you if it were +the voice of a companion. That sound was beyond the compass of +human organs. The knowledge that enabled him to tell you who was +in the closet was obtained by incomprehensible means. + +“You knew that Carwin was there. Were you not apprised of his +intents? The same power could impart the one as well as the other. +Yet, knowing these, you persisted. Audacious girl! But perhaps +you confided in his guardianship. Your confidence was just. With +succor like this at hand you may safely defy me. + +“He is my eternal foe; the baffler of my best-concerted schemes. +Twice have you been saved by his accursed interposition. But for +him I should long ere now have borne away the spoils of your +honor.” + +He looked at me with greater steadfastness than before. I became +every moment more anxious for my safety. It was with difficulty I +stammered out an entreaty that he would instantly depart, or suffer +me to do so. He paid no regard to my request, but proceeded in a +more impassioned manner:— + +“What is it you fear? Have I not told you you are safe? Has not +one in whom you more reasonably place trust assured you of it? +Even if I execute my purpose, what injury is done? Your prejudices +will call it by that name, but it merits it not. + +“I was impelled by a sentiment that does you honor; a sentiment +that would sanctify my deed; but, whatever it be, you are safe. Be +this chimera still worshiped; I will do nothing to pollute it.” +There he stopped. + +The accents and gestures of this man left me drained of all +courage. Surely, on no other occasion should I have been thus +pusillanimous. My state I regarded as a hopeless one. I was +wholly at the mercy of this being. Whichever way I turned my eyes, +I saw no avenue by which I might escape. The resources of my +personal strength, my ingenuity, and my eloquence, I estimated at +nothing. The dignity of virtue and the force of truth I had been +accustomed to celebrate, and had frequently vaunted of the +conquests which I should make with their assistance. + +I used to suppose that certain evils could never befall a being in +possession of a sound mind; that true virtue supplies us with +energy which vice can never resist; that it was always in our power +to obstruct, by his own death, the designs of an enemy who aimed at +less than our life. How was it that a sentiment like despair had +now invaded me, and that I trusted to the protection of chance, or +to the pity of my persecutor? + +His words imparted some notion of the injury which he had +meditated. He talked of obstacles that had risen in his way. He +had relinquished his design. These sources supplied me with +slender consolation. There was no security but in his absence. +When I looked at myself, when I reflected on the hour and the +place, I was overpowered by horror and dejection. + +He was silent, museful, and inattentive to my situation, yet made +no motion to depart. I was silent in my turn. What could I say? +I was confident that reason in this contest would be impotent. I +must owe my safety to his own suggestions. Whatever purpose +brought him hither, he had changed it. Why then did he remain? +His resolutions might fluctuate, and the pause of a few minutes +restore to him his first resolutions. + +Yet was not this the man whom we had treated with unwearied +kindness? whose society was endeared to us by his intellectual +elevation and accomplishments? who had a thousand times expatiated +on the usefulness and beauty of virtue? Why should such a one be +dreaded? If I could have forgotten the circumstances in which our +interview had taken place, I might have treated his words as jests. +Presently, he resumed:— + +“Fear me not: the space that severs us is small, and all visible +succor is distant. You believe yourself completely in my power; +that you stand upon the brink of ruin. Such are your groundless +fears. I cannot lift a finger to hurt you. Easier would it be to +stop the moon in her course than to injure you. The power that +protects you would crumble my sinews and reduce me to a heap of +ashes in a moment, if I were to harbor a thought hostile to your +safety. + +“Thus are appearances at length solved. Little did I expect that +they originated hence. What a portion is assigned to you! Scanned +by the eyes of this intelligence, your path will be without pits to +swallow or snares to entangle you. Environed by the arms of this +protection, all artifices will be frustrated and all malice +repelled.” + +Here succeeded a new pause. I was still observant of every gesture +and look. The tranquil solemnity that had lately possessed his +countenance gave way to a new expression. All now was trepidation +and anxiety. + +“I must be gone,” said he, in a faltering accent. “Why do I linger +here? I will not ask your forgiveness. I see that your terrors +are invincible. Your pardon will be extorted by fear, and not +dictated by compassion. I must fly from you forever. He that +could plot against your honor must expect from you and your friends +persecution and death. I must doom myself to endless exile.” + +Saying this, he hastily left the room. I listened while he +descended the stairs, and, unbolting the outer door, went forth. I +did not follow him with my eyes, as the moonlight would have +enabled me to do. Relieved by his absence, and exhausted by the +conflict of my fears, I threw myself on a chair, and resigned +myself to those bewildering ideas which incidents like these could +not fail to produce. + + +V + + +Order could not readily be introduced into my thoughts. The voice +still rung in my ears. Every accent that was uttered by Carwin was +fresh in my remembrance. His unwelcome approach, the recognition +of his person, his hasty departure, produced a complex impression +on my mind which no words can delineate. I strove to give a slower +motion to my thoughts, and to regulate a confusion which became +painful; but my efforts were nugatory. I covered my eyes with my +hand, and sat, I know not how long, without power to arrange or +utter my conceptions. + +I had remained for hours, as I believed, in absolute solitude. No +thought of personal danger had molested my tranquillity. I had +made no preparation for defense. What was it that suggested the +design of perusing my father’s manuscript? If, instead of this, I +had retired to bed and to sleep, to what fate might I not have been +reserved. The ruffian, who must almost have suppressed his +breathings to screen himself from discovery, would have noticed +this signal, and I should have awakened only to perish with +affright, and to abhor myself. Could I have remained unconscious +of my danger? Could I have tranquilly slept in the midst of so +deadly a snare? + +And who was he that threatened to destroy me? By what means could +he hide himself in this closet? Surely he is gifted with +supernatural power. Such is the enemy of whose attempts I was +forewarned. Daily I had seen him and conversed with him. Nothing +could be discerned through the impenetrable veil of his duplicity. +When busied in conjectures as to the author of the evil that was +threatened, my mind did not light for a moment upon his image. Yet +has he not avowed himself my enemy? Why should he be here if he +had not meditated evil? + +He confesses that this has been his second attempt. What was the +scene of his former conspiracy? Was it not he whose whispers +betrayed him? Am I deceived? or was there not a faint resemblance +between the voice of this man and that which talked of grasping my +throat and extinguishing my life in a moment? Then he had a +colleague in his crime; now he is alone. Then death was the scope +of his thoughts; now an injury unspeakably more dreadful. How +thankful should I be to the power that has interposed to save me! + +That power is invisible. It is subject to the cognizance of one of +my senses. What are the means that will inform me of what nature +it is? He has set himself to counter-work the machinations of this +man, who had menaced destruction to all that is dear to me, and +whose coming had surmounted every human impediment. There was none +to rescue me from his grasp. My rashness even hastened the +completion of his scheme, and precluded him from the benefits of +deliberation. I had robbed him of the power to repent and forbear. +Had I been apprised of the danger, I should have regarded my +conduct as the means of rendering my escape from it impossible. +Such, likewise, seem to have been the fears of my invisible +protector. Else why that startling entreaty to refrain from +opening the closet? By what inexplicable infatuation was I +compelled to proceed? + +“Surely,” said I, “there is omnipotence in the cause that changed +the views of a man like Carwin. The divinity that shielded me from +his attempts will take suitable care of my future safety. Thus to +yield to my fears is to deserve that they should be real.” + +Scarcely had I uttered these words, when my attention was startled +by the sound of footsteps. They denoted some one stepping into the +piazza in front of my house. My new-born confidence was +extinguished in a moment. Carwin, I thought, had repented his +departure, and was hastily returning. The possibility that his +return was prompted by intentions consistent with my safety found +no place in my mind. Images of violation and murder assailed me +anew, and the terrors which succeeded almost incapacitated me from +taking any measures for my defense. It was an impulse of which I +was scarcely conscious that made me fasten the lock and draw the +bolts of my chamber door. Having done this, I threw myself on a +seat; for I trembled to a degree which disabled me from standing, +and my soul was so perfectly absorbed in the act of listening, that +almost the vital motions were stopped. + +The door below creaked on its hinges. It was not again thrust to, +but appeared to remain open. Footsteps entered, traversed the +entry, and began to mount the stairs. How I detested the folly of +not pursuing the man when he withdrew, and bolting after him the +outer door! Might he not conceive this omission to be a proof that +my angel had deserted me, and be thereby fortified in guilt? + +Every step on the stairs which brought him nearer to my chamber +added vigor to my desperation. The evil with which I was menaced +was to be at any rate eluded. How little did I preconceive the +conduct which, in an exigence like this, I should be prone to +adopt! You will suppose that deliberation and despair would have +suggested the same course of action, and that I should have +unhesitatingly resorted to the best means of personal defense +within my power. A penknife lay open upon my table. I remembered +that it was there, and seized it. For what purpose you will +scarcely inquire. It will be immediately supposed that I meant it +for my last refuge, and that, if all other means should fail, I +should plunge it into the heart of my ravisher. + +I have lost all faith in the steadfastness of human resolves. It +was thus that in periods of calm I had determined to act. No +cowardice had been held by me in greater abhorrence than that which +prompted an injured female to destroy, not her injurer ere the +injury was perpetrated, but herself when it was without remedy. +Yet now this penknife appeared to me of no other use than to baffle +my assailant and prevent the crime by destroying myself. To +deliberate at such a time was impossible; but, among the tumultuous +suggestions of the moment, I do not recollect that it once occurred +to me to use it as an instrument of direct defense. + +The steps had now reached the second floor. Every footfall +accelerated the completion without augmenting the certainty of +evil. The consciousness that the door was fast, now that nothing +but that was interposed between me and danger, was a source of some +consolation. I cast my eye toward the window. This, likewise, was +a new suggestion. If the door should give way, it was my sudden +resolution to throw myself from the window. Its height from the +ground, which was covered beneath by a brick pavement, would insure +my destruction; but I thought not of that. + +When opposite to my door the footsteps ceased. Was he listening +whether my fears were allayed and my caution were asleep? Did he +hope to take me by surprise? Yet, if so, why did he allow so many +noisy signals to betray his approach? Presently the steps were +again heard to approach the door. A hand was laid upon the lock, +and the latch pulled back. Did he imagine it possible that I +should fail to secure the door? A slight effort was made to push +it open, as if, all bolts being withdrawn, a slight effort only was +required. + +I no sooner perceived this than I moved swiftly toward the window. +Carwin’s frame might be said to be all muscle. His strength and +activity had appeared, in various instances, to be prodigious. A +slight exertion of his force would demolish the door. Would not +that exertion be made? Too surely it would; but, at the same +moment that this obstacle should yield and he should enter the +apartment, my determination was formed to leap from the window. My +senses were still bound to this object. I gazed at the door in +momentary expectation that the assault would be made. The pause +continued. The person without was irresolute and motionless. + +Suddenly it occurred to me that Carwin might conceive me to have +fled. That I had not betaken myself to flight was, indeed, the +least probable of all conclusions. In this persuasion he must have +been confirmed on finding the lower door unfastened and the chamber +door locked. Was it not wise to foster this persuasion? Should I +maintain deep silence, this, in addition to other circumstances, +might encourage the belief, and he would once more depart. Every +new reflection added plausibility to this reasoning. It was +presently more strongly enforced when I noticed footsteps +withdrawing from the door. The blood once more flowed back to my +heart, and a dawn of exultation began to rise; but my joy was +short-lived. Instead of descending the stairs, he passed to the +door of the opposite chamber, opened it, and, having entered, shut +it after him with a violence that shook the house. + +How was I to interpret this circumstance? For what end could he +have entered this chamber? Did the violence with which he closed +the door testify the depth of his vexation? This room was usually +occupied by Pleyel. Was Carwin aware of his absence on this night? +Could he be suspected of a design so sordid as pillage? If this +were his view, there were no means in my power to frustrate it. It +behooved me to seize the first opportunity to escape; but, if my +escape were supposed by my enemy to have been already effected, no +asylum was more secure than the present. How could my passage from +the house be accomplished without noises that might incite him to +pursue me? + +Utterly at a loss to account for his going into Pleyel’s chamber, I +waited in instant expectation of hearing him come forth. All, +however, was profoundly still. I listened in vain for a +considerable period to catch the sound of the door when it should +again be opened. There was no other avenue by which he could +escape, but a door which led into the girl’s chamber. Would any +evil from this quarter befall the girl? + +Hence arose a new train of apprehensions. They merely added to the +turbulence and agony of my reflections. Whatever evil impended +over her, I had no power to avert it. Seclusion and silence were +the only means of saving myself from the perils of this fatal +night. What solemn vows did I put up, that, if I should once more +behold the light of day, I would never trust myself again within +the threshold of this dwelling! + +Minute lingered after minute, but no token was given that Carwin +had returned to the passage. What, I again asked, could detain him +in this room? Was it possible that he had returned, and glided +unperceived away? I was speedily aware of the difficulty that +attended an enterprise like this; and yet, as if by that means I +were capable of gaining any information on that head, I cast +anxious looks from the window. + +The object that first attracted my attention was a human figure +standing on the edge of the bank. Perhaps my penetration was +assisted by my hopes. Be that as it will, the figure of Carwin was +clearly distinguishable. From the obscurity of my station, it was +impossible that I should be discerned by him; and yet he scarcely +suffered me to catch a glimpse of him. He turned and went down the +steep, which in this part was not difficult to be scaled. + +My conjecture, then, had been right. Carwin has softly opened the +door, descended the stairs, and issued forth. That I should not +have overheard his steps was only less incredible than that my eyes +had deceived me. But what was now to be done? The house was at +length delivered from this detested inmate. By one avenue might he +again reenter. Was it not wise to bar the lower door? Perhaps he +had gone out by the kitchen door. For this end, he must have +passed through Judith’s chamber. These entrances being closed and +bolted, as great security was gained as was compatible with my +lonely condition. + +The propriety of these measures was too manifest not to make me +struggle successfully with my fears. Yet I opened my own door with +the utmost caution, and descended as if I were afraid that Carwin +had been still immured in Pleyel’s chamber. The outer door was +ajar. I shut it with trembling eagerness, and drew every bolt that +appended to it. I then passed with light and less cautious steps +through the parlor, but was surprised to discover that the kitchen +door was secure. I was compelled to acquiesce in the first +conjecture that Carwin had escaped through the entry. + +My heart was now somewhat eased of the load of apprehension. I +returned once more to my chamber, the door of which I was careful +to lock. It was no time to think of repose. The moonlight began +already to fade before the light of the day. The approach of +morning was betokened by the usual signals. I mused upon the +events of this night, and determined to take up my abode henceforth +at my brother’s. Whether I should inform him of what had happened +was a question which seemed to demand some consideration. My +safety unquestionably required that I should abandon my present +habitation. + +As my thoughts began to flow with fewer impediments, the image of +Pleyel, and the dubiousness of his condition, again recurred to me. +I again ran over the possible causes of his absence on the +preceding day. My mind was attuned to melancholy. I dwelt, with +an obstinacy for which I could not account, on the idea of his +death. I painted to myself his struggles with the billows, and his +last appearance. I imagined myself a midnight wanderer on the +shore, and to have stumbled on his corpse, which the tide had cast +up. These dreary images affected me even to tears. I endeavored +not to restrain them. They imparted a relief which I had not +anticipated. The more copiously they flowed, the more did my +general sensations appear to subside into calm, and a certain +restlessness give way to repose. + +Perhaps, relieved by this effusion, the slumber so much wanted +might have stolen on my senses, had there been no new cause of +alarm. + + +VI + + +I was aroused from this stupor by sounds that evidently arose in +the next chamber. Was it possible that I had been mistaken in the +figure which I had seen on the bank? or had Carwin, by some +inscrutable means, penetrated once more into this chamber? The +opposite door opened; footsteps came forth, and the person, +advancing to mine, knocked. + +So unexpected an incident robbed me of all presence of mind, and, +starting up, I involuntarily exclaimed, “Who is there?” An answer +was immediately given. The voice, to my inexpressible +astonishment, was Pleyel’s. + +“It is I. Have you risen? If you have not, make haste; I want +three minutes’ conversation with you in the parlor. I will wait +for you there.” Saying this, he retired from the door. + +Should I confide in the testimony of my ears? If that were true, +it was Pleyel that had been hitherto immured in the opposite +chamber; he whom my rueful fancy had depicted in so many ruinous +and ghastly shapes; he whose footsteps had been listened to with +such inquietude! What is man, that knowledge is so sparingly +conferred upon him! that his heart should be wrung with distress, +and his frame be exanimated with fear, though his safety be +encompassed with impregnable walls! What are the bounds of human +imbecility! He that warned me of the presence of my foe refused +the intimation by which so many racking fears would have been +precluded. + +Yet who would have imagined the arrival of Pleyel at such an hour? +His tone was desponding and anxious. Why this unseasonable +summons? and why this hasty departure? Some tidings he, perhaps, +bears of mysterious and unwelcome import. + +My impatience would not allow me to consume much time in +deliberation; I hastened down. Pleyel I found standing at a +window, with eyes cast down as in meditation, and arms folded on +his breast. Every line in his countenance was pregnant with +sorrow. To this was added a certain wanness and air of fatigue. +The last time I had seen him appearances had been the reverse of +these. I was startled at the change. The first impulse was to +question him as to the cause. This impulse was supplanted by some +degree of confusion, flowing from a consciousness that love had too +large, and, as it might prove, a perceptible, share in creating +this impulse. I was silent. + +Presently he raised his eyes and fixed them upon me. I read in +them an anguish altogether ineffable. Never had I witnessed a like +demeanor in Pleyel. Never, indeed, had I observed a human +countenance in which grief was more legibly inscribed. He seemed +struggling for utterance; but, his struggles being fruitless, he +shook his head and turned away from me. + +My impatience would not allow me to be longer silent. “What,” said +I, “for heaven’s sake, my friend,—what is the matter?” + +He started at the sound of my voice. His looks, for a moment, +became convulsed with an emotion very different from grief. His +accents were broken with rage:— + +“The matter! O wretch!—thus exquisitely fashioned,—on whom +nature seemed to have exhausted all her graces; with charms so +awful and so pure! how art thou fallen! From what height fallen! +A ruin so complete,—so unheard of!” + +His words were again choked by emotion. Grief and pity were again +mingled in his features. He resumed, in a tone half suffocated by +sobs:— + +“But why should I upbraid thee? Could I restore to thee what thou +hast lost, efface this cursed stain, snatch thee from the jaws of +this fiend, I would do it. Yet what will avail my efforts? I have +not arms with which to contend with so consummate, so frightful a +depravity. + +“Evidence less than this would only have excited resentment and +scorn. The wretch who should have breathed a suspicion injurious +to thy honor would have been regarded without anger: not hatred or +envy could have prompted him; it would merely be an argument of +madness. That my eyes, that my ears, should bear witness to thy +fall! By no other way could detestable conviction be imparted. + +“Why do I summon thee to this conference? Why expose myself to thy +derision? Here admonition and entreaty are vain. Thou knowest him +already for a murderer and thief. I thought to have been the first +to disclose to thee his infamy; to have warned thee of the pit to +which thou art hastening; but thy eyes are open in vain. Oh, foul +and insupportable disgrace! + +“There is but one path. I know you will disappear together. In +thy ruin, how will the felicity and honor of multitudes be +involved! But it must come. This scene shall not be blotted by +his presence. No doubt thou wilt shortly see thy detested +paramour. This scene will be again polluted by a midnight +assignation. Inform him of his dangers; tell him that his crimes +are known; let him fly far and instantly from this spot, if he +desires to avoid the fate which menaced him in Ireland. + +“And wilt thou not stay behind? But shame upon my weakness! I +know not what I would say. I have done what I purposed. To stay +longer, to expostulate, to beseech, to enumerate the consequences +of thy act,—what end can it serve but to blazon thy infamy and +embitter our woes? And yet, oh, think—think ere it be too late— +on the distresses which thy flight will entail upon us; on the +base, groveling, and atrocious character of the wretch to whom thou +hast sold thy honor. But what is this? Is not thy effrontery +impenetrable and thy heart thoroughly cankered? Oh, most specious +and most profligate of women!” + +Saying this, he rushed out of the house. I saw him in a few +moments hurrying along the path which led to my brother’s. I had +no power to prevent his going, or to recall or to follow him. The +accents I had heard were calculated to confound and bewilder. I +looked around me, to assure myself that the scene was real. I +moved, that I might banish the doubt that I was awake. Such +enormous imputations from the mouth of Pleyel! To be stigmatized +with the names of wanton and profligate! To be charged with the +sacrifice of honor! with midnight meetings with a wretch known to +be a murderer and thief! with an intention to fly in his company! + +What I had heard was surely the dictate of frenzy, or it was built +upon some fatal, some incomprehensible mistake. After the horrors +of the night, after undergoing perils so imminent from this man, to +be summoned to an interview like this!—to find Pleyel fraught with +a belief that, instead of having chosen death as a refuge from the +violence of this man, I had hugged his baseness to my heart, had +sacrificed for him my purity, my spotless name, my friendships, and +my fortune! That even madness could engender accusations like +these was not to be believed. + +What evidence could possibly suggest conceptions so wild? After +the unlooked-for interview with Carwin in my chamber, he retired. +Could Pleyel have observed his exit? It was not long after that +Pleyel himself entered. Did he build on this incident his odious +conclusions? Could the long series of my actions and sentiments +grant me no exemption from suspicions so foul? Was it not more +rational to infer that Carwin’s designs had been illicit? that my +life had been endangered by the fury of one whom, by some means, he +had discovered to be an assassin and robber? that my honor had been +assailed, not by blandishments, but by violence? + +He has judged me without hearing. He has drawn from dubious +appearances conclusions the most improbable and unjust. He has +loaded me with all outrageous epithets. He has ranked me with +prostitutes and thieves. I cannot pardon thee, Pleyel, for this +injustice. Thy understanding must be hurt. If it be not,—if thy +conduct was sober and deliberate,—I can never forgive an outrage +so unmanly and so gross. + +These thoughts gradually gave place to others. Pleyel was +possessed by some momentary frenzy; appearances had led him into +palpable errors. Whence could his sagacity have contracted this +blindness? Was it not love? Previously assured of my affection +for Carwin, distracted with grief and jealousy, and impelled hither +at that late hour by some unknown instigation, his imagination +transformed shadows into monsters, and plunged him into these +deplorable errors. + +This idea was not unattended with consolation. My soul was divided +between indignation at his injustice and delight on account of the +source from which I conceived it to spring. For a long time they +would allow admission to no other thoughts. Surprise is an emotion +that enfeebles, not invigorates. All my meditations were +accompanied with wonder. I rambled with vagueness, or clung to one +image with an obstinacy which sufficiently testified the maddening +influence of late transactions. + +Gradually I proceeded to reflect upon the consequences of Pleyel’s +mistake, and on the measures I should take to guard myself against +future injury from Carwin. Should I suffer this mistake to be +detected by time? When his passion should subside, would he not +perceive the flagrancy of his injustice and hasten to atone for it? +Did it not become my character to testify resentment for language +and treatment so opprobrious? Wrapped up in the consciousness of +innocence, and confiding in the influence of time and reflection to +confute so groundless a charge, it was my province to be passive +and silent. + +As to the violences meditated by Carwin, and the means of eluding +them, the path to be taken by me was obvious. I resolved to tell +the tale to my brother and regulate myself by his advice. For this +end, when the morning was somewhat advanced, I took the way to his +house. My sister was engaged in her customary occupations. As +soon as I appeared, she remarked a change in my looks. I was not +willing to alarm her by the information which I had to communicate. +Her health was in that condition which rendered a disastrous tale +particularly unsuitable. I forbore a direct answer to her +inquiries, and inquired, in my turn, for Wieland. + +“Why,” said she, “I suspect something mysterious and unpleasant has +happened this morning. Scarcely had we risen when Pleyel dropped +among us. What could have prompted him to make us so early and so +unseasonable a visit I cannot tell. To judge from the disorder of +his dress, and his countenance, something of an extraordinary +nature has occurred. He permitted me merely to know that he had +slept none, nor even undressed, during the past night. He took +your brother to walk with him. Some topic must have deeply engaged +them, for Wieland did not return till the breakfast hour was +passed, and returned alone. His disturbance was excessive; but he +would not listen to my importunities, or tell me what had happened. +I gathered, from hints which he let fall, that your situation was +in some way the cause; yet he assured me that you were at your own +house, alive, in good health, and in perfect safety. He scarcely +ate a morsel, and immediately after breakfast went out again. He +would not inform me whither he was going, but mentioned that he +probably might not return before night.” + +I was equally astonished and alarmed by this information. Pleyel +had told his tale to my brother, and had, by a plausible and +exaggerated picture, instilled into him unfavorable thoughts of me. +Yet would not the more correct judgment of Wieland perceive and +expose the fallacy of his conclusions? Perhaps his uneasiness +might arise from some insight into the character of Carwin, and +from apprehensions for my safety. The appearances by which Pleyel +had been misled might induce him likewise to believe that I +entertained an indiscreet though not dishonorable affection for +Carwin. Such were the conjectures rapidly formed. I was +inexpressibly anxious to change them into certainty. For this end +an interview with my brother was desirable. He was gone no one +knew whither, and was not expected speedily to return. I had no +clew by which to trace his footsteps. + +My anxieties could not be concealed from my sister. They +heightened her solicitude to be acquainted with the cause. There +were many reasons persuading me to silence; at least, till I had +seen my brother, it would be an act of inexcusable temerity to +unfold what had lately passed. No other expedient for eluding her +importunities occurred to me but that of returning to my own house. +I recollected my determination to become a tenant of this roof. I +mentioned it to her. She joyfully acceded to this proposal, and +suffered me with less reluctance to depart when I told her that it +was with a view to collect and send to my new dwelling what +articles would be immediately useful to me. + +Once more I returned to the house which had been the scene of so +much turbulence and danger. I was at no great distance from it +when I observed my brother coming out. On seeing me he stopped, +and, after ascertaining, as it seemed, which way I was going, he +returned into the house before me. I sincerely rejoiced at this +event, and I hastened to set things, if possible, on their right +footing. + +His brow was by no means expressive of those vehement emotions with +which Pleyel had been agitated. I drew a favorable omen from this +circumstance. Without delay I began the conversation. + +“I have been to look for you,” said I, “but was told by Catharine +that Pleyel had engaged you on some important and disagreeable +affair. Before his interview with you he spent a few minutes with +me. These minutes he employed in upbraiding me for crimes and +intentions with which I am by no means chargeable. I believe him +to have taken up his opinions on very insufficient grounds. His +behavior was in the highest degree precipitate and unjust, and, +until I receive some atonement, I shall treat him, in my turn, with +that contempt which he justly merits; meanwhile, I am fearful that +he has prejudiced my brother against me. That is an evil which I +most anxiously deprecate, and which I shall indeed exert myself to +remove. Has he made me the subject of this morning’s conversation?” + +My brother’s countenance testified no surprise at my address. The +benignity of his looks was nowise diminished. + +“It is true,” said he, “your conduct was the subject of our +discourse. I am your friend as well as your brother. There is no +human being whom I love with more tenderness and whose welfare is +nearer my heart. Judge, then, with what emotions I listened to +Pleyel’s story. I expect and desire you to vindicate yourself from +aspersions so foul, if vindication be possible.” + +The tone with which he uttered the last words affected me deeply. +“If vindication be possible!” repeated I. “From what you know, do +you deem a formal vindication necessary? Can you harbor for a +moment the belief of my guilt?” + +He shook his head with an air of acute anguish. “I have +struggled,” said he, “to dismiss that belief. You speak before a +judge who will profit by any pretense to acquit you who is ready to +question his own senses when they plead against you.” + +These words incited a new set of thoughts in my mind. I began to +suspect that Pleyel had built his accusations on some foundation +unknown to me. “I may be a stranger to the grounds of your belief. +Pleyel loaded me with indecent and virulent invectives, but he +withheld from me the facts that generated his suspicions. Events +took place last night of which some of the circumstances were of an +ambiguous nature. I conceived that these might possibly have +fallen under his cognizance, and that, viewed through the mists of +prejudice and passion, they supplied a pretense for his conduct, +but believed that your more unbiased judgment would estimate them +at their just value. Perhaps his tale has been different from what +I suspect it to be. Listen, then, to my narrative. If there be +anything in his story inconsistent with mine, his story is false.” + +I then proceeded to a circumstantial relation of the incidents of +the last night. Wieland listened with deep attention. Having +finished, “This,” continued I, “is the truth. You see in what +circumstances an interview took place between Carwin and me. He +remained for hours in my closet, and for some minutes in my +chamber. He departed without haste or interruption. If Pleyel +marked him as he left the house, (and it is not impossible that he +did,) inferences injurious to my character might suggest themselves +to him. In admitting them, he gave proofs of less discernment and +less candor than I once ascribed to him.” + +“His proofs,” said Wieland, after a considerable pause, “are +different. That he should be deceived is not possible. That he +himself is not the deceiver could not be believed, if his testimony +were not inconsistent with yours; but the doubts which I +entertained are now removed. Your tale, some parts of it, is +marvelous; the voice which exclaimed against your rashness in +approaching the closet, your persisting, notwithstanding that +prohibition, your belief that I was the ruffian, and your +subsequent conduct, are believed by me, because I have known you +from childhood, because a thousand instances have attested your +veracity, and because nothing less than my own hearing and vision +would convince me, in opposition to her own assertions, that my +sister had fallen into wickedness like this.” + +I threw my arms around him and bathed his cheek with my tears. +“That,” said I, “is spoken like my brother. But what are the +proofs?” + +He replied, “Pleyel informed me that, in going to your house, his +attention was attracted by two voices. The persons speaking sat +beneath the bank, out of sight. These persons, judging by their +voices, were Carwin and you. I will not repeat the dialogue. If +my sister was the female, Pleyel was justified in concluding you to +be indeed one of the most profligate of women. Hence his +accusations of you, and his efforts to obtain my concurrence to a +plan by which an eternal separation should be brought about between +my sister and this man.” + +I made Wieland repeat this recital. Here indeed was a tale to fill +me with terrible foreboding. I had vainly thought that my safety +could be sufficiently secured by doors and bars, but this is a foe +from whose grasp no power of divinity can save me! His artifices +will ever lay my fame and happiness at his mercy. How shall I +counterwork his plots or detect his coadjutor? He has taught some +vile and abandoned female to mimic my voice. Pleyel’s ears were +the witnesses of my dishonor. This is the midnight assignation to +which he alluded. Thus is the silence he maintained when +attempting to open the door of my chamber, accounted for. He +supposed me absent, and meant, perhaps, had my apartment been +accessible, to leave in it some accusing memorial. + + + +SECOND PART + + +I + + +[As this part opens, the unhappy Clara is describing her hurried +return to the same ill-fated abode at Mettingen. Hence kind +friends had borne her after the catastrophe of her brother +Wieland’s “transformation.” This was the crowning horror of all: +the morbid fanatic, prepared by gloomy anticipations of some +terrible sacrifice to be demanded in the name of religion, had +found himself goaded to blind fury, by a mysterious compelling +voice, to yield up to God the lives of his beloved wife and family; +and had done the awful deed! + +Though chained in his madhouse, he persists in his delusion; +insists that it still remains for him to sacrifice his sister +Clara; and twice breaks away in wild efforts to find and destroy +her.] + + +I took an irregular path which led me to my own house. All was +vacant and forlorn. A small enclosure near which the path led was +the burying ground belonging to the family. This I was obliged to +pass. Once I had intended to enter it, and ponder on the emblems +and inscriptions which my uncle had caused to be made on the tombs +of Catharine and her children; but now my heart faltered as I +approached, and I hastened forward that distance might conceal it +from my view. + +When I approached the recess, my heart again sunk. I averted my +eyes, and left it behind me as quickly as possible. Silence +reigned through my habitation, and a darkness which closed doors +and shutters produced. Every object was connected with mine or my +brother’s history. I passed the entry, mounted the stair, and +unlocked the door of my chamber. It was with difficulty that I +curbed my fancy and smothered my fears. Slight movements and +casual sounds were transformed into beckoning shadows and calling +shapes. + +I proceeded to the closet. I opened and looked round it with +fearfulness. All things were in their accustomed order. I sought +and found the manuscript where I was used to deposit it. This +being secured, there was nothing to detain me; yet I stood and +contemplated awhile the furniture and walls of my chamber. I +remembered how long this apartment had been a sweet and tranquil +asylum; I compared its former state with its present dreariness, +and reflected that I now beheld it for the last time. + +Here it was that the incomprehensible behavior of Carwin was +witnessed; this the stage on which that enemy of man showed himself +for a moment unmasked. Here the menaces of murder were wafted to +my ear; and here these menaces were executed. + +These thoughts had a tendency to take from me my self-command. My +feeble limbs refused to support me, and I sunk upon a chair. +Incoherent and half-articulate exclamations escaped my lips. The +name of Carwin was uttered and eternal woes—woes like that which +his malice had entailed upon us—were heaped upon him. I invoked +all-seeing heaven to drag to light and punish this betrayer, and +accused its providence for having thus long delayed the retribution +that was due to so enormous a guilt. + +I have said that the window shutters were closed. A feeble light, +however, found entrance through the crevices. A small window +illuminated the closet, and, the door being closed, a dim ray +streamed through the keyhole. A kind of twilight was thus created, +sufficient for the purposes of vision, but, at the same time, +involving all minuter objects in obscurity. + +This darkness suited the color of my thoughts. I sickened at the +remembrance of the past. The prospect of the future excited my +loathing. I muttered, in a low voice, “Why should I live longer? +Why should I drag a miserable being? All for whom I ought to live +have perished. Am I not myself hunted to death?” + +At that moment my despair suddenly became vigorous. My nerves were +no longer unstrung. My powers, that had long been deadened, were +revived. My bosom swelled with a sudden energy, and the conviction +darted through my mind, that to end my torments was, at once, +practicable and wise. + +I knew how to find way to the recesses of life. I could use a +lancet with some skill, and could distinguish between vein and +artery. By piercing deep into the latter, I should shun the evils +which the future had in store for me, and take refuge from my woes +in quiet death. + +I started on my feet, for my feebleness was gone, and hasted to the +closet. A lancet and other small instruments were preserved in a +case which I had deposited here. Inattentive as I was to foreign +considerations, my ears were still open to any sound of mysterious +import that should occur. I thought I heard a step in the entry. +My purpose was suspended, and I cast an eager glance at my chamber +door, which was open. No one appeared, unless the shadow which I +discerned upon the floor was the outline of a man. If it were, I +was authorized to suspect that some one was posted close to the +entrance, who possibly had overheard my exclamations. + +My teeth chattered, and a wild confusion took the place of my +momentary calm. Thus it was when a terrific visage had disclosed +itself on a former night. Thus it was when the evil destiny of +Wieland assumed the lineaments of something human. What horrid +apparition was preparing to blast my sight? + +Still I listened and gazed. Not long, for the shadow moved; a +foot, unshapely and huge, was thrust forward; a form advanced from +its concealment, and stalked into the room. It was Carwin! + +While I had breath, I shrieked. While I had power over my muscles, +I motioned with my hand that he should vanish. My exertions could +not last long: I sunk into a fit. + +Oh that this grateful oblivion had lasted forever! Too quickly I +recovered my senses. The power of distinct vision was no sooner +restored to me, than this hateful form again presented itself, and +I once more relapsed. + +A second time, untoward nature recalled me from the sleep of death. +I found myself stretched upon the bed. When I had power to look +up, I remembered only that I had cause to fear. My distempered +fancy fashioned to itself no distinguishable image. I threw a +languid glance round me: once more my eyes lighted upon Carwin. + +He was seated on the floor, his back rested against the wall; his +knees were drawn up, and his face was buried in his hands. That +his station was at some distance, that his attitude was not +menacing, that his ominous visage was concealed, may account for my +now escaping a shock violent as those which were past. I withdrew +my eyes, but was not again deserted by my senses. + +On perceiving that I had recovered my sensibility, he lifted his +head. This motion attracted my attention. His countenance was +mild, but sorrow and astonishment sat upon his features. I averted +my eyes and feebly exclaimed, “Oh, fly!—fly far and forever!—I +cannot behold you and live!” + +He did not rise upon his feet, but clasped his hands, and said, in +a tone of deprecation, “I will fly. I am become a fiend, the sight +of whom destroys. Yet tell me my offense! You have linked curses +with my name; you ascribe to me a malice monstrous and infernal. I +look around: all is loneliness and desert! This house and your +brother’s are solitary and dismantled! You die away at the sight +of me! My fear whispers that some deed of horror has been +perpetrated; that I am the undesigning cause.” + +What language was this? Had he not avowed himself a ravisher? Had +not this chamber witnessed his atrocious purposes? I besought him +with new vehemence to go. + +He lifted his eyes:—“Great heaven! what have I done? I think I +know the extent of my offenses. I have acted, but my actions have +possibly effected more than I designed. This fear has brought me +back from my retreat. I come to repair the evil of which my +rashness was the cause, and to prevent more evil. I come to +confess my errors.” + +“Wretch!” I cried, when my suffocating emotions would permit me to +speak, “the ghosts of my sister and her children,—do they not rise +to accuse thee? Who was it that blasted the intellect of Wieland? +Who was it that urged him to fury and guided him to murder? Who, +but thou and the devil, with whom thou art confederated?” + +At these words a new spirit pervaded his countenance. His eyes +once more appealed to heaven. “If I have memory—if I have being— +I am innocent. I intended no ill; but my folly, indirectly and +remotely, may have caused it. But what words are these? Your +brother lunatic! His children dead!” + +What should I infer from this deportment? Was the ignorance which +these words implied real or pretended? Yet how could I imagine a +mere human agency in these events? But, if the influence was +preternatural or maniacal in my brother’s case, they must be +equally so in my own. Then I remembered that the voice exerted was +to save me from Carwin’s attempts. These ideas tended to abate my +abhorrence of this man, and to detect the absurdity of my +accusations. + +“Alas!” said I, “I have no one to accuse. Leave me to my fate. +Fly from a scene stained with cruelty, devoted to despair.” + +Carwin stood for a time musing and mournful. At length he said, +“What has happened? I came to expiate my crimes: let me know them +in their full extent. I have horrible forebodings! What has +happened?” + +I was silent; but, recollecting the intimation given by this man +when he was detected in my closet, which implied some knowledge of +that power which interfered in my favor, I eagerly inquired, “What +was that voice which called upon me to hold when I attempted to +open the closet? What face was that which I saw at the bottom of +the stairs? Answer me truly.” + +“I came to confess the truth. Your allusions are horrible and +strange. Perhaps I have but faint conceptions of the evils which +my infatuation has produced; but what remains I will perform. It +was MY VOICE that you heard! It was MY FACE that you saw!” + +For a moment I doubted whether my remembrance of events were not +confused. How could he be at once stationed at my shoulder and +shut up in my closet? How could he stand near me and yet be +invisible? But if Carwin’s were the thrilling voice and the fiery +image which I had heard and seen, then was he the prompter of my +brother, and the author of these dismal outrages. + +Once more I averted my eyes and struggled for speech:—“Begone! +thou man of mischief! Remorseless and implacable miscreant, +begone!” + +“I will obey,” said he, in a disconsolate voice; “yet, wretch as I +am, am I unworthy to repair the evils that I have committed? I +came as a repentant criminal. It is you whom I have injured, and +at your bar am I willing to appear and confess and expiate my +crimes. I have deceived you; I have sported with your terrors; I +have plotted to destroy your reputation. I come now to remove your +terrors; to set you beyond the reach of similar fears; to rebuild +your fame as far as I am able. + +“This is the amount of my guilt, and this the fruit of my remorse. +Will you not hear me? Listen to my confession, and then denounce +punishment. All I ask is a patient audience.” + +“What!” I replied; “was not thine the voice that commanded my +brother to imbrue his hands in the blood of his children?—to +strangle that angel of sweetness, his wife? Has he not vowed my +death, and the death of Pleyel, at thy bidding? Hast thou not made +him the butcher of his family?—changed him who was the glory of +his species into worse than brute?—robbed him of reason and +consigned the rest of his days to fetters and stripes?” + +Carwin’s eyes glared and his limbs were petrified at this +intelligence. No words were requisite to prove him guiltless of +these enormities: at the time, however, I was nearly insensible to +these exculpatory tokens. He walked to the farther end of the +room, and, having recovered some degree of composure, he spoke:— + +“I am not this villain. I have slain no one; I have prompted none +to slay; I have handled a tool of wonderful efficacy without +malignant intentions, but without caution. Ample will be the +punishment of my temerity, if my conduct has contributed to this +evil.” He paused. + +I likewise was silent. I struggled to command myself so far as to +listen to the tale which he should tell. Observing this, he +continued:— + +“You are not apprised of the existence of a power which I possess. +I know not by what name to call it.[1] It enables me to mimic +exactly the voice of another, and to modify the sound so that it +shall appear to come from what quarter and be uttered at what +distance I please. + +“I know not that everyone possesses this power. Perhaps, though a +casual position of my organs in my youth showed me that I possessed +it, it is an art which may be taught to all. Would to God I had +died unknowing of the secret! It has produced nothing but +degradation and calamity.” + + +[1] Biloquium, or ventrilocution. Sound is varied according to the +variations of direction and distance. The art of the ventriloquist +consists in modifying his voice according to all these variations, +without changing his place. See the work of the Abbe de la +Chappelle, in which are accurately recorded the performances of one +of these artists, and some ingenious though unsatisfactory +speculations are given on the means by which the effects are +produced. This power is, perhaps, given by nature, but is +doubtless improvable, if not acquirable, by art. It may, possibly, +consist in an unusual flexibility or extension of the bottom of the +tongue and the uvula. That speech is producible by these alone +must be granted, since anatomists mention two instances of persons +speaking without a tongue. In one case the organ was originally +wanting, but its place was supplied by a small tubercle, and the +uvula was perfect. In the other the tongue was destroyed by +disease, but probably a small part of it remained. + +This power is difficult to explain, but the fact is undeniable. +Experience shows that the human voice can imitate the voice of all +men and of all inferior animals. The sound of musical instruments, +and even noises from the contact of inanimate substances, have been +accurately imitated. The mimicry of animals is notorious; and Dr. +Burney (“Musical Travels”) mentions one who imitated a flute and +violin, so as to deceive even his ears. + + + +THIRD PART + + +I + + +[After Carwin’s confession of his powers of ventriloquism all the +mysteries are cleared up—save one. The owner of the voice heard +in Clara’s chamber, on the first night after the wanderer appeared +at Mettingen; the threatener on the edge of the precipice; the spy +in Clara’s closet, and would-be intruder; the manipulator of the +vile plot that destroyed her lover’s confidence—all these hidden +identities have materialized in the person of this one unhappy man. +But while confessing the prying disposition which led to these +sins, in efforts to protect himself from discovery, Carwin still +denies that Wieland’s mad acts were perpetrated at his +instigation.] + + +“I have uttered the truth. This is the extent of my offenses. You +tell me a horrid tale of Wieland being led to the destruction of +his wife and children by some mysterious agent. You charge me with +the guilt of this agency, but I repeat that the amount of my guilt +has been truly stated. The perpetrator of Catharine’s death was +unknown to me till now; nay, it is still unknown to me.” + +At that moment, the closing of a door in the kitchen was distinctly +heard by us. Carwin started and paused. “There is some one +coming. I must not be found here by my enemies, and need not, +since my purpose is answered.” + +I had drunk in, with the most vehement attention, every word that +he had uttered. I had no breath to interrupt his tale by +interrogations or comments. The power that he spoke of was +hitherto unknown to me; its existence was incredible; it was +susceptible of no direct proof. + +He owns that his were the voice and face which I heard and saw. He +attempts to give a human explanation of these phantasms but it is +enough that he owns himself to be the agent: his tale is a lie, and +his nature devilish. As he deceived me, he likewise deceived my +brother, and now do I behold the author of all our calamities! + +Such were my thoughts when his pause allowed me to think. I should +have bade him begone if the silence had not been interrupted; but +now I feared no more for myself; and the milkiness of my nature was +curdled into hatred and rancor. Some one was near, and this enemy +of God and man might possibly be brought to justice. I reflected +not that the preternatural power which he had hitherto exerted +would avail to rescue him from any toils in which his feet might be +entangled. Meanwhile, looks, and not words, of menace and +abhorrence, were all that I could bestow. + +He did not depart. He seemed dubious whether by passing out of the +house, or by remaining somewhat longer where he was, he should most +endanger his safety. His confusion increased when steps of one +barefoot were heard upon the stairs. He threw anxious glances +sometimes at the closet, sometimes at the window, and sometimes at +the chamber door; yet he was detained by some inexplicable +fascination. He stood as if rooted to the spot. + +As to me, my soul was bursting with detestation and revenge. I had +no room for surmises and fears respecting him that approached. It +was doubtless a human being, and would befriend me so far as to aid +me in arresting this offender. + +The stranger quickly entered the room. My eyes and the eyes of +Carwin were at the same moment darted upon him. A second glance +was not needed to inform us who he was. His locks were tangled, +and fell confusedly over his forehead and ears. His shirt was of +coarse stuff, and open at the neck and breast. His coat was once +of bright and fine texture, but now torn and tarnished with dust. +His feet, his legs, and his arms, were bare. His features were the +seat of a wild and tranquil solemnity, but his eyes bespoke +inquietude and curiosity. + +He advanced with a firm step, and looking as in search of some one. +He saw me and stopped. He bent his sight on the floor, and, +clenching his hands, appeared suddenly absorbed in meditation. +Such were the figure and deportment of Wieland! Such, in his +fallen state, were the aspect and guise of my brother! + +Carwin did not fail to recognize the visitant. Care for his own +safety was apparently swallowed up in the amazement which this +spectacle produced. His station was conspicuous, and he could not +have escaped the roving glances of Wieland; yet the latter seemed +totally unconscious of his presence. + +Grief at this scene of ruin and blast was at first the only +sentiment of which I was conscious. A fearful stillness ensued. +At length Wieland, lifting his hands, which were locked in each +other, to his breast, exclaimed, “Father! I thank thee. This is +thy guidance. Hither thou hast led me, that I might perform thy +will. Yet let me not err; let me hear again thy messenger!” + +He stood for a minute as if listening; but, recovering from his +attitude, he continued, “It is not needed. Dastardly wretch! thus +eternally questioning the behests of thy Maker! weak in resolution, +wayward in faith!” + +He advanced to me, and, after another pause, resumed:—“Poor girl! +a dismal fate has set its mark upon thee. Thy life is demanded as +a sacrifice. Prepare thee to die. Make not my office difficult by +fruitless opposition. Thy prayers might subdue stones; but none +but he who enjoined my purpose can shake it.” + +These words were a sufficient explication of the scene. The nature +of his frenzy, as described by my uncle, was remembered. I, who +had sought death, was now thrilled with horror because it was near. +Death in this form, death from the hand of a brother, was thought +upon with indescribable repugnance. + +In a state thus verging upon madness, my eye glanced upon Carwin. +His astonishment appeared to have struck him motionless and dumb. +My life was in danger, and my brother’s hand was about to be +imbrued in my blood. I firmly believed that Carwin’s was the +instigation. I could rescue myself from this abhorred fate; I +could dissipate this tremendous illusion; I could save my brother +from the perpetration of new horrors, by pointing out the devil who +seduced him. To hesitate a moment was to perish. These thoughts +gave strength to my limbs and energy to my accents; I started on my +feet:— + +“Oh, brother! spare me! spare thyself! There is thy betrayer. He +counterfeited the voice and face of an angel, for the purpose of +destroying thee and me. He has this moment confessed it. He is +able to speak where he is not. He is leagued with hell, but will +not avow it; yet he confesses that the agency was his.” + +My brother turned slowly his eyes, and fixed them upon Carwin. +Every joint in the frame of the latter trembled. His complexion +was paler than a ghost’s. His eye dared not meet that of Wieland, +but wandered with an air of distraction from one space to another. + +“Man,” said my brother, in a voice totally unlike that which he had +used to me, “what art thou? The charge has been made. Answer it. +The visage—the voice—at the bottom of these stairs—at the hour +of eleven—to whom did they belong? To thee?” + +Twice did Carwin attempt to speak, but his words died away upon his +lips. My brother resumed, in a tone of greater vehemence:— + +“Thou falterest. Faltering is ominous. Say yes or no; one word +will suffice; but beware of falsehood. Was it a stratagem of hell +to overthrow my family? Wast thou the agent?” + +I now saw that the wrath which had been prepared for me was to be +heaped upon another. The tale that I heard from him, and his +present trepidations, were abundant testimonies of his guilt. But +what if Wieland should be undeceived! What if he shall find his +act to have proceeded not from a heavenly prompter, but from human +treachery! Will not his rage mount into whirlwind? Will not he +tear limb from limb this devoted wretch? + +Instinctively I recoiled from this image; but it gave place to +another. Carwin may be innocent, but the impetuosity of his judge +may misconstrue his answers into a confession of guilt. Wieland +knows not that mysterious voices and appearances were likewise +witnessed by me. Carwin may be ignorant of those which misled my +brother. Thus may his answers unwarily betray himself to ruin. + +Such might be the consequences of my frantic precipitation, and +these it was necessary, if possible, to prevent. I attempted to +speak; but Wieland, turning suddenly upon me, commanded silence, in +a tone furious and terrible. My lips closed, and my tongue refused +its office. + +“What art thou?” he resumed, addressing himself to Carwin. “Answer +me: whose form—whose voice,—was it thy contrivance? Answer me.” + +The answer was now given, but confusedly and scarcely articulated. +“I meant nothing—I intended no ill—if I understand—if I do not +mistake you—it is too true—I did appear—in the entry—did speak. +The contrivance was mine, but—” + +These words were no sooner uttered, than my brother ceased to wear +the same aspect. His eyes were downcast; he was motionless; his +respiration became hoarse, like that of a man in the agonies of +death. Carwin seemed unable to say more. He might have easily +escaped; but the thought which occupied him related to what was +horrid and unintelligible in this scene, and not to his own danger. + +Presently the faculties of Wieland, which, for a time, were chained +up, were seized with restlessness and trembling. He broke silence. +The stoutest heart would have been appalled by the tone in which he +spoke. He addressed himself to Carwin:— + +“Why art thou here? Who detains thee? Go and learn better. I +will meet thee, but it must be at the bar of thy Maker. There +shall I bear witness against thee.” + +Perceiving that Carwin did not obey, he continued, “Dost thou wish +me to complete the catalogue by thy death? Thy life is a worthless +thing. Tempt me no more. I am but a man, and thy presence may +awaken a fury which may spurn my control. Begone!” + +Carwin, irresolute, striving in vain for utterance, his complexion +pallid as death, his knees beating one against another, slowly +obeyed the mandate and withdrew. + + +II + + +A few words more and I lay aside the pen forever. Yet why should I +not relinquish it now? All that I have said is preparatory to this +scene, and my fingers, tremulous and cold as my heart, refuse any +further exertion. This must not be. Let my last energies support +me in the finishing of this task. Then will I lay down my head in +the lap of death. Hushed will be all my murmurs in the sleep of +the grave. + +Every sentiment has perished in my bosom. Even friendship is +extinct. Your love for me has prompted me to this task; but I +would not have complied if it had not been a luxury thus to feast +upon my woes. I have justly calculated upon my remnant of +strength. When I lay down the pen the taper of life will expire; +my existence will terminate with my tale. + +Now that I was left alone with Wieland, the perils of my situation +presented themselves to my mind. That this paroxysm should +terminate in havoc and rage it was reasonable to predict. The +first suggestion of my fears had been disproved by my experience. +Carwin had acknowledged his offenses, and yet had escaped. The +vengeance which I had harbored had not been admitted by Wieland; +and yet the evils which I had endured, compared with those +inflicted on my brother, were as nothing. I thirsted for his +blood, and was tormented with an insatiable appetite for his +destruction; but my brother was unmoved, and had dismissed him in +safety. Surely thou wast more than man, while I am sunk below the +beasts. + +Did I place a right construction on the conduct of Wieland? Was +the error that misled him so easily rectified? Were views so vivid +and faith so strenuous thus liable to fading and to change? Was +there not reason to doubt the accuracy of my perceptions? With +images like these was my mind thronged, till the deportment of my +brother called away my attention. + +I saw his lips move and his eyes cast up to heaven. Then would he +listen and look back, as if in expectation of some one’s +appearance. Thrice he repeated these gesticulations and this +inaudible prayer. Each time the mist of confusion and doubt seemed +to grow darker and to settle on his understanding. I guessed at +the meaning of these tokens. The words of Carwin had shaken his +belief, and he was employed in summoning the messenger who had +formerly communed with him, to attest the value of those new +doubts. In vain the summons was repeated, for his eye met nothing +but vacancy, and not a sound saluted his ear. + +He walked to the bed, gazed with eagerness at the pillow which had +sustained the head of the breathless Catharine, and then returned +to the place where I sat. I had no power to lift my eyes to his +face: I was dubious of his purpose; this purpose might aim at my +life. + +Alas! nothing but subjection to danger and exposure to temptation +can show us what we are. By this test was I now tried, and found +to be cowardly and rash. Men can deliberately untie the thread of +life, and of this I had deemed myself capable. It was now that I +stood upon the brink of fate, that the knife of the sacrificer was +aimed at my heart, I shuddered, and betook myself to any means of +escape, however monstrous. + +Can I bear to think—can I endure to relate the outrage which my +heart meditated? Where were my means of safety? Resistance was +vain. Not even the energy of despair could set me on a level with +that strength which his terrific prompter had bestowed upon +Wieland. Terror enables us to perform incredible feats; but terror +was not then the state of my mind: where then were my hopes of +rescue? + +Methinks it is too much. I stand aside, as it were, from myself; I +estimate my own deservings; a hatred, immortal and inexorable, is +my due. I listen to my own pleas, and find them empty and false: +yes, I acknowledge that my guilt surpasses that of mankind; I +confess that the curses of a world and the frowns of a Deity are +inadequate to my demerits. Is there a thing in the world worthy of +infinite abhorrence? It is I. + +What shall I say? I was menaced, as I thought, with death, and, to +elude this evil, my hand was ready to inflict death upon the +menacer. In visiting my house, I had made provision against the +machinations of Carwin. In a fold of my dress an open penknife was +concealed. This I now seized and drew forth. It lurked out of +view; but I now see that my state of mind would have rendered the +deed inevitable if my brother had lifted his hand. This instrument +of my preservation would have been plunged into his heart. + +O insupportable remembrance! hide thee from my view for a time; +hide it from me that my heart was black enough to meditate the +stabbing of a brother! a brother thus supreme in misery; thus +towering in virtue! + +He was probably unconscious of my design, but presently drew back. +This interval was sufficient to restore me to myself. The madness, +the iniquity, of that act which I had purposed rushed upon my +apprehension. For a moment I was breathless with agony. At the +next moment I recovered my strength, and threw the knife with +violence on the floor. + +The sound awoke my brother from his reverie. He gazed alternately +at me and at the weapon. With a movement equally solemn he stooped +and took it up. He placed the blade in different positions, +scrutinizing it accurately, and maintaining, at the same time, a +profound silence. + +Again he looked at me; but all that vehemence and loftiness of +spirit which had so lately characterized his features were flown. +Fallen muscles, a forehead contracted into folds, eyes dim with +unbidden drops, and a ruefulness of aspect which no words can +describe, were now visible. + +His looks touched into energy the same sympathies in me, and I +poured forth a flood of tears. This passion was quickly checked by +fear, which had now no longer my own but his safety for their +object. I watched his deportment in silence. At length he spoke:— + +“Sister,” said he, in an accent mournful and mild, “I have acted +poorly my part in this world. What thinkest thou? Shall I not do +better in the next?” + +I could make no answer. The mildness of his tone astonished and +encouraged me. I continued to regard him with wistful and anxious +looks. + +“I think,” resumed he, “I will try. My wife and my babes have gone +before. Happy wretches! I have sent you to repose, and ought not +to linger behind.” + +These words had a meaning sufficiently intelligible. I looked at +the open knife in his hand and shuddered, but knew not how to +prevent the deed which I dreaded. He quickly noticed my fears, and +comprehended them. Stretching toward me his hand, with an air of +increasing mildness, “Take it,” said he; “fear not for thy own +sake, nor for mine. The cup is gone by, and its transient +inebriation is succeeded by the soberness of truth. + +“Thou angel whom I was wont to worship! fearest thou, my sister, +for thy life? Once it was the scope of my labors to destroy thee, +but I was prompted to the deed by heaven; such, at least, was my +belief. Thinkest thou that thy death was sought to gratify +malevolence? No. I am pure from all stain. I believed that my +God was my mover! + +“Neither thee nor myself have I cause to injure. I have done my +duty; and surely there is merit in having sacrificed to that all +that is dear to the heart of man. If a devil has deceived me, he +came in the habit of an angel. If I erred, it was not my judgment +that deceived me, but my senses. In thy sight, Being of beings! I +am still pure. Still will I look for my reward in thy justice!” + +Did my ears truly report these sounds? If I did not err, my +brother was restored to just perceptions. He knew himself to have +been betrayed to the murder of his wife and children, to have been +the victim of infernal artifice; yet he found consolation in the +rectitude of his motives. He was not devoid of sorrow, for this +was written on his countenance; but his soul was tranquil and +sublime. + +Perhaps this was merely a transition of his former madness into a +new shape. Perhaps he had not yet awakened to the memory of the +horrors which he had perpetrated. Infatuated wretch that I was! +To set myself up as a model by which to judge of my heroic brother! +My reason taught me that his conclusions were right; but, conscious +of the impotence of reason over my own conduct, conscious of my +cowardly rashness and my criminal despair, I doubted whether anyone +could be steadfast and wise. + +Such was my weakness, that even in the midst of these thoughts my +mind glided into abhorrence of Carwin, and I uttered, in a low +voice, “O Carwin! Carwin! what hast thou to answer for?” + +My brother immediately noticed the involuntary exclamation. +“Clara!” said he, “be thyself. Equity used to be a theme for thy +eloquence. Reduce its lessons to practice, and be just to that +unfortunate man. The instrument has done its work, and I am +satisfied. + +“I thank thee, my God, for this last illumination! My enemy is +thine also. I deemed him to be a man,—the man with whom I have +often communed; but now thy goodness has unveiled to me his true +nature. As the performer of thy behests, he is my friend.” + +My heart began now to misgive me. His mournful aspect had +gradually yielded place to a serene brow. A new soul appeared to +actuate his frame, and his eyes to beam with preternatural luster. +These symptoms did not abate, and he continued:— + +“Clara, I must not leave thee in doubt. I know not what brought +about thy interview with the being whom thou callest Carwin. For a +time I was guilty of thy error, and deduced from his incoherent +confessions that I had been made the victim of human malice. He +left us at my bidding, and I put up a prayer that my doubts should +be removed. Thy eyes were shut and thy ears sealed to the vision +that answered my prayer. + +“I was indeed deceived. The form thou hast seen was the +incarnation of a demon. The visage and voice which urged me to the +sacrifice of my family were his. Now he personates a human form; +then he was environed with the luster of heaven. + +“Clara,” he continued, advancing closer to me, “thy death must +come. This minister is evil, but he from whom his commission was +received is God. Submit then with all thy wonted resignation to a +decree that cannot be reversed or resisted. Mark the clock. Three +minutes are allowed to thee, in which to call up thy fortitude and +prepare thee for thy doom.” There he stopped. + +Even now, when this scene exists only in memory, when life and all +its functions have sunk into torpor, my pulse throbs, and my hairs +uprise; my brows are knit, as then, and I gaze around me in +distraction. I was unconquerably averse to death; but death, +imminent and full of agony as that which was threatened, was +nothing. This was not the only or chief inspirer of my fears. + +For him, not for myself, was my soul tormented. I might die, and +no crime, surpassing the reach of mercy, would pursue me to the +presence of my Judge; but my assassin would survive to contemplate +his deed, and that assassin was Wieland! + +Wings to bear me beyond his reach I had not. I could not vanish +with a thought. The door was open, but my murderer was interposed +between that and me. Of self-defense I was incapable. The frenzy +that lately prompted me to blood was gone: my state was desperate; +my rescue was impossible. + +The weight of these accumulated thoughts could not be borne. My +sight became confused; my limbs were seized with convulsion; I +spoke, but my words were half formed:— + +“Spare me, my brother! Look down, righteous Judge! snatch me from +this fate! take away this fury from him, or turn it elsewhere!” + +Such was the agony of my thoughts that I noticed not steps entering +my apartment. Supplicating eyes were cast upward; but when my +prayer was breathed I once more wildly gazed at the door. A form +met my sight; I shuddered as if the God whom I invoked were +present. It was Carwin that again intruded, and who stood before +me, erect in attitude and steadfast in look! + +The sight of him awakened new and rapid thoughts. His recent tale +was remembered; his magical transitions and mysterious energy of +voice. Whether he were infernal or miraculous or human, there was +no power and no need to decide. Whether the contriver or not of +this spell, he was able to unbind it, and to check the fury of my +brother. He had ascribed to himself intentions not malignant. +Here now was afforded a test of his truth. Let him interpose, as +from above; revoke the savage decree which the madness of Wieland +has assigned to heaven, and extinguish forever this passion for +blood! + +My mind detected at a glance this avenue to safety. The +recommendations it possessed thronged as it were together, and made +but one impression on my intellect. Remoter effects and collateral +dangers I saw not. Perhaps the pause of an instant had sufficed to +call them up. The improbability that the influence which governed +Wieland was external or human; the tendency of this stratagem to +sanction so fatal an error or substitute a more destructive rage in +place of this; the insufficiency of Carwin’s mere muscular forces +to counteract the efforts and restrain the fury of Wieland, might, +at a second glance, have been discovered; but no second glance was +allowed. My first thought hurried me to action, and, fixing my +eyes upon Carwin, I exclaimed,— + +“O wretch! once more hast thou come? Let it be to abjure thy +malice; to counterwork this hellish stratagem; to turn from me and +from my brother this desolating rage! + +“Testify thy innocence or thy remorse; exert the powers which +pertain to thee, whatever they be, to turn aside this ruin. Thou +art the author of these horrors! What have I done to deserve thus +to die? How have I merited this unrelenting persecution? I adjure +thee, by that God whose voice thou hast dared to counterfeit, to +save my life! + +“Wilt thou then go?—leave me! Succorless!” + +Carwin listened to my entreaties unmoved, and turned from me. He +seemed to hesitate a moment,—then glided through the door. Rage +and despair stifled my utterance. The interval of respite was +past; the pangs reserved for me by Wieland were not to be endured; +my thoughts rushed again into anarchy. Having received the knife +from his hand, I held it loosely and without regard; but now it +seized again my attention, and I grasped it with force. + +He seemed to notice not the entrance or exit of Carwin. My gesture +and the murderous weapon appeared to have escaped his notice. His +silence was unbroken; his eye, fixed upon the clock for a time, was +now withdrawn; fury kindled in every feature; all that was human in +his face gave way to an expression supernatural and tremendous. I +felt my left arm within his grasp. + +Even now I hesitated to strike. I shrunk from his assault, but in +vain. + +Here let me desist. Why should I rescue this event from oblivion? +Why should I paint this detestable conflict? Why not terminate at +once this series of horrors?—Hurry to the verge of the precipice, +and cast myself forever beyond remembrance and beyond hope? + +Still I live; with this load upon my breast; with this phantom to +pursue my steps; with adders lodged in my bosom, and stinging me to +madness; still I consent to live! + +Yes! I will rise above the sphere of mortal passions; I will spurn +at the cowardly remorse that bids me seek impunity in silence, or +comfort in forgetfulness. My nerves shall be new-strung to the +task. Have I not resolved? I will die. The gulf before me is +inevitable and near. I will die, but then only when my tale is at +an end. + + +III + + +My right hand, grasping the unseen knife, was still disengaged. It +was lifted to strike. All my strength was exhausted but what was +sufficient to the performance of this deed. Already was the energy +awakened and the impulse given that should bear the fatal steel to +his heart, when—Wieland shrunk back; his hand was withdrawn. +Breathless with affright and desperation, I stood, freed from his +grasp; unassailed; untouched. + +Thus long had the power which controlled the scene forborne to +interfere: but now his might was irresistible; and Wieland in a +moment was disarmed of all his purposes. A voice, louder than +human organs could produce, shriller than language can depict, +burst from the ceiling and commanded him—TO HOLD! + +Trouble and dismay succeeded to the steadfastness that had lately +been displayed in the looks of Wieland. His eyes roved from one +quarter to another, with an expression of doubt. He seemed to wait +for a further intimation. + +Carwin’s agency was here easily recognized. I had besought him to +interpose in my defense. He had flown. I had imagined him deaf to +my prayer, and resolute to see me perish; yet he disappeared merely +to devise and execute the means of my relief. + +Why did he not forbear when this end was accomplished? Why did his +misjudging zeal and accursed precipitation overpass that limit? Or +meant he thus to crown the scene, and conduct his inscrutable plots +to this consummation? + +Such ideas were the fruit of subsequent contemplation. This moment +was pregnant with fate. I had no power to reason. In the career +of my tempestuous thoughts, rent into pieces as my mind was by +accumulating horrors, Carwin was unseen and unsuspected. I partook +of Wieland’s credulity, shook with his amazement, and panted with +his awe. + +Silence took place for a moment: so much as allowed the attention +to recover its post. Then new sounds were uttered from above:— + +“Man of errors! cease to cherish thy delusion; not heaven or hell, +but thy senses, have misled thee to commit these acts. Shake off +thy frenzy, and ascend into rational and human. Be lunatic no +longer.” + +My brother opened his lips to speak. His tone was terrific and +faint. He muttered an appeal to heaven. It was difficult to +comprehend the theme of his inquiries. They implied doubt as to +the nature of the impulse that hitherto had guided him, and +questioned whether he had acted in consequence of insane +perceptions. + +To these interrogatories the voice, which now seemed to hover at +his shoulder, loudly answered in the affirmative. Then +uninterrupted silence ensued. + +Fallen from his lofty and heroic station; now finally restored to +the perception of truth; weighed to earth by the recollection of +his own deeds; consoled no longer by a consciousness of rectitude +for the loss of offspring and wife,—a loss for which he was +indebted to his own misguided hand,—Wieland was transformed at +once into the MAN OF SORROWS! + +He reflected not that credit should be as reasonably denied to the +last as to any former intimation; that one might as justly be +ascribed to erring or diseased senses as the other. He saw not +that this discovery in no degree affected the integrity of his +conduct; that his motives had lost none of their claims to the +homage of mankind; that the preference of supreme good, and the +boundless energy of duty, were undiminished in his bosom. + +It is not for me to pursue him through the ghastly changes of his +countenance. Words he had none. Now he sat upon the floor, +motionless in all his limbs, with his eyes glazed and fixed, a +monument of woe. + +Anon a spirit of tempestuous but undesigning activity seized him. +He rose from his place and strode across the floor, tottering and +at random. His eyes were without moisture, and gleamed with the +fire that consumed his vitals. The muscles of his face were +agitated by convulsions. His lips moved, but no sound escaped him. + +That nature should long sustain this conflict was not to be +believed. My state was little different from that of my brother. +I entered, as it were, into his thoughts. My heart was visited and +rent by his pangs. “Oh that thy frenzy had never been cured! that +thy madness, with its blissful visions, would return! or, if that +must not be, that thy scene would hasten to a close!—that death +would cover thee with his oblivion! + +“What can I wish for thee? Thou who hast vied with the great +Preacher of thy faith in sanctity of motives, and in elevation +above sensual and selfish! Thou whom thy fate has changed into +parricide and savage! Can I wish for the continuance of thy being? +No.” + +For a time his movements seemed destitute of purpose. If he +walked; if he turned; if his fingers were entwined with each other; +if his hands were pressed against opposite sides of his head with a +force sufficient to crush it into pieces; it was to tear his mind +from self-contemplation; to waste his thoughts on external objects. + +Speedily this train was broken. A beam appeared to be darted into +his mind which gave a purpose to his efforts. An avenue to escape +presented itself; and now he eagerly gazed about him. When my +thoughts became engaged by his demeanor, my fingers were stretched +as by a mechanical force, and the knife, no longer heeded or of +use, escaped from my grasp and fell unperceived on the floor. His +eye now lighted upon it; he seized it with the quickness of +thought. + +I shrieked aloud, but it was too late. He plunged it to the hilt +in his neck; and his life instantly escaped with the stream that +gushed from the wound. He was stretched at my feet; and my hands +were sprinkled with his blood as he fell. + +Such was thy last deed, my brother! For a spectacle like this was +it my fate to be reserved! Thy eyes were closed—thy face ghastly +with death—thy arms, and the spot where thou lyedst, floated in +thy life’s blood! These images have not for a moment forsaken me. +Till I am breathless and cold, they must continue to hover in my +sight. + +Carwin, as I said, had left the room; but he still lingered in the +house. My voice summoned him to my aid; but I scarcely noticed his +reentrance, and now faintly recollect his terrified looks, his +broken exclamations, his vehement avowals of innocence, the +effusions of his pity for me, and his offers of assistance. + +I did not listen—I answered him not—I ceased to upbraid or +accuse. His guilt was a point to which I was indifferent. Ruffian +or devil, black as hell or bright as angels, thenceforth he was +nothing to me. I was incapable of sparing a look or a thought from +the ruin that was spread at my feet. + +When he left me, I was scarcely conscious of any variation in the +scene. He informed the inhabitants of the hut of what had passed, +and they flew to the spot. Careless of his own safety, he hasted +to the city to inform my friends of my condition. + +My uncle speedily arrived at the house. The body of Wieland was +removed from my presence, and they supposed that I would follow it; +but no, my home is ascertained; here I have taken up my rest, and +never will I go hence, till, like Wieland, I am borne to my grave. + +Importunity was tried in vain. They threatened to remove me by +violence,—nay, violence was used; but my soul prizes too dearly +this little roof to endure to be bereaved of it. Force should not +prevail when the hoary locks and supplicating tears of my uncle +were ineffectual. My repugnance to move gave birth to +ferociousness and frenzy when force was employed, and they were +obliged to consent to my return. + +They besought me—they remonstrated—they appealed to every duty +that connected me with Him that made me and with my fellow-men—in +vain. While I live I will not go hence. Have I not fulfilled my +destiny? + +Why will ye torment me with your reasonings and reproofs? Can ye +restore to me the hope of my better days? Can ye give me back +Catharine and her babes? Can ye recall to life him who died at my +feet? + +I will eat—I will drink—I will lie down and rise up—at your +bidding; all I ask is the choice of my abode. What is there +unreasonable in this demand? Shortly will I be at peace. This is +the spot which I have chosen in which to breathe my last sigh. +Deny me not, I beseech you, so slight a boon. + +Talk not to me, O my reverend friend! of Carwin. He has told thee +his tale, and thou exculpatest him from all direct concern in the +fate of Wieland. This scene of havoc was produced by an illusion +of the senses. Be it so; I care not from what source these +disasters have flowed; it suffices that they have swallowed up our +hopes and our existence. + +What his agency began, his agency conducted to a close. He +intended, by the final effort of his power, to rescue me and to +banish his illusions from my brother. Such is his tale, concerning +the truth of which I care not. Henceforth I foster but one wish: I +ask only quick deliverance from life and all the ills that attend +it. + +Go, wretch! torment me not with thy presence and thy prayers.— +Forgive thee? Will that avail thee when thy fateful hour shall +arrive? Be thou acquitted at thy own tribunal, and thou needest +not fear the verdict of others. If thy guilt be capable of blacker +hues, if hitherto thy conscience be without stain, thy crime will +be made more flagrant by thus violating my retreat. Take thyself +away from my sight if thou wouldst not behold my death! + +Thou art gone! murmuring and reluctant! And now my repose is +coming—my work is done! + + + + +Fitzjames O’Brien + + + + +The Golden Ingot + + +I had just retired to rest, with my eyes almost blind with the +study of a new work on physiology by M. Brown-Sequard, when the +night bell was pulled violently. + +It was winter, and I confess I grumbled as I rose and went +downstairs to open the door. Twice that week I had been aroused +long after midnight for the most trivial causes. Once, to attend +upon the son and heir of a wealthy family, who had cut his thumb +with a penknife, which, it seems, he insisted on taking to bed with +him; and once, to restore a young gentleman to consciousness, who +had been found by his horrified parent stretched insensible on the +staircase. Diachylon in the one case and ammonia in the other were +all that my patients required; and I had a faint suspicion that the +present summons was perhaps occasioned by no case more necessitous +than those I have quoted. I was too young in my profession, +however, to neglect opportunities. It is only when a physician +rises to a very large practice that he can afford to be +inconsiderate. I was on the first step of the ladder, so I humbly +opened my door. + +A woman was standing ankle deep in the snow that lay upon the +stoop. I caught but a dim glimpse of her form, for the night was +cloudy; but I could hear her teeth rattling like castanets, and, as +the sharp wind blew her clothes close to her form, I could discern +from the sharpness of the outlines that she was very scantily +supplied with raiment. + +“Come in, come in, my good woman,” I said hastily, for the wind +seemed to catch eagerly at the opportunity of making itself at home +in my hall, and was rapidly forcing an entrance through the half- +open door. “Come in, you can tell me all you have to communicate +inside.” + +She slipped in like a ghost, and I closed the door. While I was +striking a light in my office, I could hear her teeth still +clicking out in the dark hall, till it seemed as if some skeleton +was chattering. As soon as I obtained a light I begged her to +enter the room, and, without occupying myself particularly about +her appearance, asked her abruptly what her business was. + +“My father has met with a severe accident,” she said, “and requires +instant surgical aid. I entreat you to come to him immediately.” + +The freshness and the melody of her voice startled me. Such voices +rarely, if ever, issue from any but beautiful forms. I looked at +her attentively, but, owing to a nondescript species of shawl in +which her head was wrapped, I could discern nothing beyond what +seemed to be a pale, thin face and large eyes. Her dress was +lamentable. An old silk, of a color now unrecognizable, clung to +her figure in those limp folds which are so eloquent of misery. +The creases where it had been folded were worn nearly through, and +the edges of the skirt had decayed into a species of irregular +fringe, which was clotted and discolored with mud. Her shoes— +which were but half concealed by this scanty garment—were +shapeless and soft with moisture. Her hands were hidden under the +ends of the shawl which covered her head and hung down over a bust, +the outlines of which, although angular, seemed to possess grace. +Poverty, when partially shrouded, seldom fails to interest: witness +the statue of the Veiled Beggar, by Monti. + +“In what manner was your father hurt?” I asked, in a tone +considerably softened from the one in which I put my first +question. + +“He blew himself up, sir, and is terribly wounded.” + +“Ah! He is in some factory, then?” + +“No, sir, he is a chemist.” + +“A chemist? Why, he is a brother professional. Wait an instant, +and I will slip on my coat and go with you. Do you live far from +here?” + +“In the Seventh Avenue, not more than two blocks from the end of +this street.” + +“So much the better. We will be with him in a few minutes. Did +you leave anyone in attendance on him?” + +“No, sir. He will allow no one but myself to enter his laboratory. +And, injured as he is, I could not induce him to quit it.” + +“Indeed! He is engaged in some great research, perhaps? I have +known such cases.” + +We were passing under a lamp-post, and the woman suddenly turned +and glared at me with a look of such wild terror that for an +instant I involuntarily glanced round me under the impression that +some terrible peril, unseen by me, was menacing us both. + +“Don’t—don’t ask me any questions,” she said breathlessly. “He +will tell you all. But do, oh, do hasten! Good God! he may be +dead by this time!” + +I made no reply, but allowed her to grasp my hand, which she did +with a bony, nervous clutch, and endeavored with some difficulty to +keep pace with the long strides—I might well call them bounds, for +they seemed the springs of a wild animal rather than the paces of a +young girl—with which she covered the ground. Not a word more was +uttered until we stopped before a shabby, old-fashioned tenement +house in the Seventh Avenue, not far above Twenty-third Street. +She pushed the door open with a convulsive pressure, and, still +retaining hold of my hand, literally dragged me upstairs to what +seemed to be a back offshoot from the main building, as high, +perhaps, as the fourth story. In a moment more I found myself in a +moderate-sized chamber, lit by a single lamp. In one corner, +stretched motionless on a wretched pallet bed, I beheld what I +supposed to be the figure of my patient. + +“He is there,” said the girl; “go to him. See if he is dead—I +dare not look.” + +I made my way as well as I could through the numberless dilapidated +chemical instruments with which the room was littered. A French +chafing dish supported on an iron tripod had been overturned, and +was lying across the floor, while the charcoal, still warm, was +scattered around in various directions. Crucibles, alembics, and +retorts were confusedly piled in various corners, and on a small +table I saw distributed in separate bottles a number of mineral and +metallic substances, which I recognized as antimony, mercury, +plumbago, arsenic, borax, etc. It was veritably the apartment of a +poor chemist. All the apparatus had the air of being second-hand. +There was no luster of exquisitely annealed glass and highly +polished metals, such as dazzles one in the laboratory of the +prosperous analyst. The makeshifts of poverty were everywhere +visible. The crucibles were broken, or gallipots were used instead +of crucibles. The colored tests were not in the usual transparent +vials, but were placed in ordinary black bottles. There is nothing +more melancholy than to behold science or art in distress. A +threadbare scholar, a tattered book, or a battered violin is a mute +appeal to our sympathy. + +I approached the wretched pallet bed on which the victim of +chemistry was lying. He breathed heavily, and had his head turned +toward the wall. I lifted his arm gently to arouse his attention. +“How goes it, my poor friend?” I asked him. “Where are you hurt?” + +In a moment, as if startled by the sound of my voice, he sprang up +in his bed, and cowered against the wall like a wild animal driven +to bay. “Who are you? I don’t know you. Who brought you here? +You are a stranger. How dare you come into my private rooms to spy +upon me?” + +And as he uttered this rapidly with a frightful nervous energy, I +beheld a pale distorted face, draped with long gray hair, glaring +at me with a mingled expression of fury and terror. + +“I am no spy,” I answered mildly. “I heard that you had met with +an accident, and have come to cure you. I am Dr. Luxor, and here +is my card.” + +The old man took the card, and scanned it eagerly. “You are a +physician?” he inquired distrustfully. + +“And surgeon also.” + +“You are bound by oath not to reveal the secrets of your patients.” + +“Undoubtedly.” + +“I am afraid that I am hurt,” he continued faintly, half sinking +back in the bed. + +I seized the opportunity to make a brief examination of his body. +I found that the arms, a part of the chest, and a part of the face +were terribly scorched; but it seemed to me that there was nothing +to be apprehended but pain. + +“You will not reveal anything that you may learn here?” said the +old man, feebly fixing his eyes on my face while I was applying a +soothing ointment to the burns. “You will promise me.” + +I nodded assent. + +“Then I will trust you. Cure me—I will pay you well.” + +I could scarce help smiling. If Lorenzo de’ Medici, conscious of +millions of ducats in his coffers, had been addressing some leech +of the period, he could not have spoken with a loftier air than +this inhabitant of the fourth story of a tenement house in the +Seventh Avenue. + +“You must keep quiet,” I answered. “Let nothing irritate you. I +will leave a composing draught with your daughter, which she will +give you immediately. I will see you in the morning. You will be +well in a week.” + +“Thank God!” came in a murmur from a dusk corner near the door. I +turned, and beheld the dim outline of the girl, standing with +clasped hands in the gloom of the dim chamber. + +“My daughter!” screamed the old man, once more leaping up in the +bed with renewed vitality. “You have seen her, then? When? +Where? Oh, may a thousand cur—” + +“Father! father! Anything—anything but that. Don’t, don’t curse +me!” And the poor girl, rushing in, flung herself sobbing on her +knees beside his pallet. + +“Ah, brigand! You are there, are you? Sir,” said he, turning to +me, “I am the most unhappy man in the world. Talk of Sisyphus +rolling the ever-recoiling stone—of Prometheus gnawed by the +vulture since the birth of time. The fables yet live. There is my +rock, forever crushing me back! there is my eternal vulture, +feeding upon my heart! There! there! there!” And, with an awful +gesture of malediction and hatred, he pointed with his wounded +hand, swathed and shapeless with bandages, at the cowering, +sobbing, wordless woman by his side. + +I was too much horror-stricken to attempt even to soothe him. The +anger of blood against blood has an electric power which paralyzes +bystanders. + +“Listen to me, sir,” he continued, “while I skin this painted +viper. I have your oath; you will not reveal. I am an alchemist, +sir. Since I was twenty-two years old, I have pursued the +wonderful and subtle secret. Yes, to unfold the mysterious Rose +guarded with such terrible thorns; to decipher the wondrous Table +of Emerald; to accomplish the mystic nuptials of the Red King and +the White Queen; to marry them soul to soul and body to body, +forever and ever, in the exact proportions of land and water—such +has been my sublime aim, such has been the splendid feat that I +have accomplished.” + +I recognized at a glance, in this incomprehensible farrago, the +argot of the true alchemist. Ripley, Flamel, and others have +supplied the world, in their works, with the melancholy spectacle +of a scientific bedlam. + +“Two years since,” continued the poor man, growing more and more +excited with every word that he uttered—“two years since, I +succeeded in solving the great problem—in transmuting the baser +metals into gold. None but myself, that girl, and God knows the +privations I had suffered up to that time. Food, clothing, air, +exercise, everything but shelter, was sacrificed toward the one +great end. Success at last crowned my labors. That which Nicholas +Flamel did in 1382, that which George Ripley did at Rhodes in 1460, +that which Alexander Sethon and Michael Scudivogius did in the +seventeenth century, I did in 1856. I made gold! I said to +myself, ‘I will astonish New York more than Flamel did Paris.’ He +was a poor copyist, and suddenly launched into magnificence. I had +scarce a rag to my back: I would rival the Medicis. I made gold +every day. I toiled night and morning; for I must tell you that I +never was able to make more than a certain quantity at a time, and +that by a process almost entirely dissimilar to those hinted at in +those books of alchemy I had hitherto consulted. But I had no +doubt that facility would come with experience, and that ere long I +should be able to eclipse in wealth the richest sovereigns of the +earth. + +“So I toiled on. Day after day I gave to this girl here what gold +I succeeded in fabricating, telling her to store it away after +supplying our necessities. I was astonished to perceive that we +lived as poorly as ever. I reflected, however, that it was perhaps +a commendable piece of prudence on the part of my daughter. +Doubtless, I said, she argues that the less we spend the sooner we +shall accumulate a capital wherewith to live at ease; so, thinking +her course a wise one, I did not reproach her with her +niggardliness, but toiled on, amid want, with closed lips. + +“The gold which I fabricated was, as I said before, of an +invariable size, namely, a little ingot worth perhaps thirty or +forty-five dollars. In two years I calculated that I had made five +hundred of these ingots, which, rated at an average of thirty +dollars apiece, would amount to the gross sum of fifteen thousand +dollars. After deducting our slight expenses for two years, we +ought to have had nearly fourteen thousand dollars left. It was +time, I thought, to indemnify myself for my years of suffering, and +surround my child and myself with such moderate comforts as our +means allowed. I went to my daughter and explained to her that I +desired to make an encroachment upon our little hoard. To my utter +amazement, she burst into tears, and told me that she had not got a +dollar—that all of our wealth had been stolen from her. Almost +overwhelmed by this new misfortune, I in vain endeavored to +discover from her in what manner our savings had been plundered. +She could afford me no explanation beyond what I might gather from +an abundance of sobs and a copious flow of tears. + +“It was a bitter blow, doctor, but nil desperandum was my motto, so +I went to work at my crucible again, with redoubled energy, and +made an ingot nearly every second day. I determined this time to +put them in some secure place myself; but the very first day I set +my apparatus in order for the projection, the girl Marion—that is +my daughter’s name—came weeping to me and implored me to allow her +to take care of our treasure. I refused decisively, saying that, +having found her already incapable of filling the trust, I could +place no faith in her again. But she persisted, clung to my neck, +threatened to abandon me; in short, used so many of the bad but +irresistible arguments known to women that I had not the heart to +refuse her. She has since that time continued to take the ingots. + +“Yet you behold,” continued the old alchemist, casting an +inexpressibly mournful glance around the wretched apartment, “the +way we live. Our food is insufficient and of bad quality; we never +buy clothes; the rent of this hole is a mere nothing. What am I to +think of the wretched girl who plunges me into this misery? Is she +a miser, think you?—or a female gamester?—or—or—does she +squander it riotously in places I know not of? O Doctor, Doctor! +do not blame me if I heap imprecations on her head, for I have +suffered bitterly!” The poor man here closed his eyes and sank +back groaning on his bed. + +This singular narrative excited in me the strangest emotions. I +glanced at the girl Marion, who had been a patient listener to +these horrible accusations of cupidity, and never did I behold a +more angelic air of resignation than beamed over her countenance. +It was impossible that anyone with those pure, limpid eyes; that +calm, broad forehead; that childlike mouth, could be such a monster +of avarice or deceit as the old man represented. The truth was +plain enough: the alchemist was mad—what alchemist was there ever +who was not?—and his insanity had taken this terrible shape. I +felt an inexpressible pity move my heart for this poor girl, whose +youth was burdened with such an awful sorrow. + +“What is your name?” I asked the old man, taking his tremulous, +fevered hand in mine. + +“William Blakelock,” he answered. “I come of an old Saxon stock, +sir, that bred true men and women in former days. God! how did it +ever come to pass that such a one as that girl ever sprung from our +line?” The glance of loathing and contempt that he cast at her +made me shudder. + +“May you not be mistaken in your daughter?” I said, very mildly. +“Delusions with regard to alchemy are, or have been, very common—” + +“What, sir?” cried the old man, bounding in his bed. “What? Do +you doubt that gold can be made? Do you know, sir, that M. C. +Theodore Tiffereau made gold at Paris in the year 1854 in the +presence of M. Levol, the assayer of the Imperial Mint, and the +result of the experiments was read before the Academy of Sciences +on the sixteenth of October of the same year? But stay; you shall +have better proof yet. I will pay you with one of my ingots, and +you shall attend me until I am well. Get me an ingot!” + +This last command was addressed to Marion, who was still kneeling +close to her father’s bedside. I observed her with some curiosity +as this mandate was issued. She became very pale, clasped her +hands convulsively, but neither moved nor made any reply. + +“Get me an ingot, I say!” reiterated the alchemist passionately. + +She fixed her large eyes imploringly upon him. Her lips quivered, +and two huge tears rolled slowly down her white cheeks. + +“Obey me, wretched girl,” cried the old man in an agitated voice, +“or I swear, by all that I reverence in heaven and earth, that I +will lay my curse upon you forever!” + +I felt for an instant that I ought perhaps to interfere, and spare +the girl the anguish that she was so evidently suffering; but a +powerful curiosity to see how this strange scene would terminate +withheld me. + +The last threat of her father, uttered as it was with a terrible +vehemence, seemed to appall Marion. She rose with a sudden leap, +as if a serpent had stung her, and, rushing into an inner +apartment, returned with a small object which she placed in my +hand, and then flung herself in a chair in a distant corner of the +room, weeping bitterly. + +“You see—you see,” said the old man sarcastically, “how +reluctantly she parts with it. Take it, sir; it is yours.” + +It was a small bar of metal. I examined it carefully, poised it in +my hand—the color, weight, everything, announced that it really +was gold. + +“You doubt its genuineness, perhaps,” continued the alchemist. +“There are acids on yonder table—test it.” + +I confess that I DID doubt its genuineness; but after I had acted +upon the old man’s suggestion, all further suspicion was rendered +impossible. It was gold of the highest purity. I was astounded. +Was then, after all, this man’s tale a truth? Was his daughter, +that fair, angelic-looking creature, a demon of avarice, or a slave +to worse passions? I felt bewildered. I had never met with +anything so incomprehensible. I looked from father to daughter in +the blankest amazement. I suppose that my countenance betrayed my +astonishment, for the old man said: “I perceive that you are +surprised. Well, that is natural. You had a right to think me mad +until I proved myself sane.” + +“But, Mr. Blakelock,” I said, “I really cannot take this gold. I +have no right to it. I cannot in justice charge so large a fee.” + +“Take it—take it,” he answered impatiently; “your fee will amount +to that before I am well. Besides,” he added mysteriously, “I wish +to secure your friendship. I wish that you should protect me from +her,” and he pointed his poor, bandaged hand at Marion. + +My eyes followed his gesture, and I caught the glance that replied— +a glance of horror, distrust, despair. The beautiful face was +distorted into positive ugliness. + +“It’s all true,” I thought; “she is the demon that her father +represents her.” + +I now rose to go. This domestic tragedy sickened me. This +treachery of blood against blood was too horrible to witness. I +wrote a prescription for the old man, left directions as to the +renewal of the dressings upon his burns, and, bidding him good +night, hastened toward the door. + +While I was fumbling on the dark, crazy landing for the staircase, +I felt a hand laid on my arm. + +“Doctor,” whispered a voice that I recognized as Marion +Blakelock’s, “Doctor, have you any compassion in your heart?” + +“I hope so,” I answered shortly, shaking off her hand; her touch +filled me with loathing. + +“Hush! don’t talk so loud. If you have any pity in your nature, +give me back, I entreat of you, that gold ingot which my father +gave you this evening.” + +“Great heaven!” said I, “can it be possible that so fair a woman +can be such a mercenary, shameless wretch?” + +“Ah! you know not—I cannot tell you! Do not judge me harshly. I +call God to witness that I am not what you deem me. Some day or +other you will know. But,” she added, interrupting herself, “the +ingot—where is it? I must have it. My life depends on your +giving it to me.” + +“Take it, impostor!” I cried, placing it in her hand, that closed +on it with a horrible eagerness. “I never intended to keep it. +Gold made under the same roof that covers such as you must be +accursed.” + +So saying, heedless of the nervous effort she made to detain me, I +stumbled down the stairs and walked hastily home. + +The next morning, while I was in my office, smoking my matutinal +cigar, and speculating over the singular character of my +acquaintances of last night, the door opened, and Marion Blakelock +entered. She had the same look of terror that I had observed the +evening before, and she panted as if she had been running fast. + +“Father has got out of bed,” she gasped out, “and insists on going +on with his alchemy. Will it kill him?” + +“Not exactly,” I answered coldly. “It were better that he kept +quiet, so as to avoid the chance of inflammation. However, you +need not be alarmed; his burns are not at all dangerous, although +painful.” + +“Thank God! thank God!” she cried, in the most impassioned accents; +and, before I was aware of what she was doing, she seized my hand +and kissed it. + +“There, that will do,” I said, withdrawing my hand; “you are under +no obligations to me. You had better go back to your father.” + +“I can’t go,” she answered. “You despise me—is it not so?” + +I made no reply. + +“You think me a monster—a criminal. When you went home last +night, you were wonderstruck that so vile a creature as I should +have so fair a face.” + +“You embarrass me, madam,” I said, in a most chilling tone. “Pray +relieve me from this unpleasant position.” + +“Wait. I cannot bear that you should think ill of me. You are +good and kind, and I desire to possess your esteem. You little +know how I love my father.” + +I could not restrain a bitter smile. + +“You do not believe that? Well, I will convince you. I have had a +hard struggle all last night with myself, but am now resolved. +This life of deceit must continue no longer. Will you hear my +vindication?” + +I assented. The wonderful melody of her voice and the purity of +her features were charming me once more. I half believed in her +innocence already. + +“My father has told you a portion of his history. But he did not +tell you that his continued failures in his search after the secret +of metallic transmutation nearly killed him. Two years ago he was +on the verge of the grave, working every day at his mad pursuit, +and every day growing weaker and more emaciated. I saw that if his +mind was not relieved in some way he would die. The thought was +madness to me, for I loved him—I love him still, as a daughter +never loved a father before. During all these years of poverty I +had supported the house with my needle; it was hard work, but I did +it—I do it still!” + +“What?” I cried, startled, “does not—” + +“Patience. Hear me out. My father was dying of disappointment. I +must save him. By incredible exertions, working night and day, I +saved about thirty-five dollars in notes. These I exchanged for +gold, and one day, when my father was not looking, I cast them into +the crucible in which he was making one of his vain attempts at +transmutation. God, I am sure, will pardon the deception. I never +anticipated the misery it would lead to. + +“I never beheld anything like the joy of my poor father, when, +after emptying his crucible, he found a deposit of pure gold at the +bottom. He wept, and danced, and sang, and built such castles in +the air, that my brain was dizzy to hear him. He gave me the ingot +to keep, and went to work at his alchemy with renewed vigor. The +same thing occurred. He always found the same quantity of gold in +his crucible. I alone knew the secret. He was happy, poor man, +for nearly two years, in the belief that he was amassing a fortune. +I all the while plied my needle for our daily bread. When he asked +me for the savings, the first stroke fell upon me. Then it was +that I recognized the folly of my conduct. I could give him no +money. I never had any—while he believed that I had fourteen +thousand dollars. My heart was nearly broken when I found that he +had conceived the most injurious suspicions against me. Yet I +could not blame him. I could give no account of the treasure I had +permitted him to believe was in my possession. I must suffer the +penalty of my fault, for to undeceive him would be, I felt, to kill +him. I remained silent then, and suffered. + +“You know the rest. You now know why it was that I was reluctant +to give you that ingot—why it was that I degraded myself so far as +to ask it back. It was the only means I had of continuing a +deception on which I believed my father’s life depended. But that +delusion has been dispelled. I can live this life of hypocrisy no +longer. I cannot exist and hear my father, whom I love so, wither +me daily with his curses. I will undeceive him this very day. +Will you come with me, for I fear the effect on his enfeebled +frame?” + +“Willingly,” I answered, taking her by the hand; “and I think that +no absolute danger need be apprehended. Now, Marion,” I added, +“let me ask forgiveness for having even for a moment wounded so +noble a heart. You are truly as great a martyr as any of those +whose sufferings the Church perpetuates in altar-pieces.” + +“I knew you would do me justice when you knew all,” she sobbed, +pressing my hand; “but come. I am on fire. Let us hasten to my +father, and break this terror to him.” + +When we reached the old alchemist’s room, we found him busily +engaged over a crucible which was placed on a small furnace, and in +which some indescribable mixture was boiling. He looked up as we +entered. + +“No fear of me, doctor,” he said, with a ghastly smile, “no fear; I +must not allow a little physical pain to interrupt my great work, +you know. By the way, you are just in time. In a few moments the +marriage of the Red King and White Queen will be accomplished, as +George Ripley calls the great act, in his book entitled ‘The Twelve +Gates.’ Yes, doctor, in less than ten minutes you will see me make +pure, red, shining gold!” And the poor old man smiled +triumphantly, and stirred his foolish mixture with a long rod, +which he held with difficulty in his bandaged hands. It was a +grievous sight for a man of any feeling to witness. + +“Father,” said Marion, in a low, broken voice, advancing a little +toward the poor old dupe, “I want your forgiveness.” + +“Ah, hypocrite! for what? Are you going to give me back my gold?” + +“No, father, but for the deception that I have been practicing on +you for two years—” + +“I knew it! I knew it!” shouted the old man, with a radiant +countenance. “She has concealed my fourteen thousand dollars all +this time, and now comes to restore them. I will forgive her. +Where are they, Marion?” + +“Father—it must come out. You never made any gold. It was I who +saved up thirty-five dollars, and I used to slip them into your +crucible when your back was turned—and I did it only because I saw +that you were dying of disappointment. It was wrong, I know—but, +father, I meant well. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” And the poor +girl advanced a step toward the alchemist. + +He grew deathly pale, and staggered as if about to fall. The next +instant, though, he recovered himself, and burst into a horrible +sardonic laugh. Then he said, in tones full of the bitterest +irony: “A conspiracy, is it? Well done, doctor! You think to +reconcile me with this wretched girl by trumping up this story that +I have been for two years a dupe of her filial piety. It’s clumsy, +doctor, and is a total failure. Try again.” + +“But I assure you, Mr. Blakelock,” I said as earnestly as I could, +“I believe your daughter’s statement to be perfectly true. You +will find it to be so, as she has got the ingot in her possession +which so often deceived you into the belief that you made gold, and +you will certainly find that no transmutation has taken place in +your crucible.” + +“Doctor,” said the old man, in tones of the most settled +conviction, “you are a fool. The girl has wheedled you. In less +than a minute I will turn you out a piece of gold purer than any +the earth produces. Will that convince you?” + +“That will convince me,” I answered. By a gesture I imposed +silence on Marion, who was about to speak. I thought it better to +allow the old man to be his own undeceiver—and we awaited the +coming crisis. + +The old man, still smiling with anticipated triumph, kept bending +eagerly over his crucible, stirring the mixture with his rod, and +muttering to himself all the time. “Now,” I heard him say, “it +changes. There—there’s the scum. And now the green and bronze +shades flit across it. Oh, the beautiful green! the precursor of +the golden-red hue that tells of the end attained! Ah! now the +golden-red is coming—slowly—slowly! It deepens, it shines, it is +dazzling! Ah, I have it!” So saying, he caught up his crucible in +a chemist’s tongs, and bore it slowly toward the table on which +stood a brass vessel. + +“Now, incredulous doctor!” he cried, “come and be convinced,” and +immediately began carefully pouring the contents of the crucible +into the brass vessel. When the crucible was quite empty he turned +it up and called me again. “Come, doctor, come and be convinced. +See for yourself.” + +“See first if there is any gold in your crucible,” I answered, +without moving. + +He laughed, shook his head derisively, and looked into the +crucible. In a moment he grew pale as death. + +“Nothing!” he cried. “Oh, a jest, a jest! There must be gold +somewhere. Marion!” + +“The gold is here, father,” said Marion, drawing the ingot from her +pocket; “it is all we ever had.” + +“Ah!” shrieked the poor old man, as he let the empty crucible fall, +and staggered toward the ingot which Marion held out to him. He +made three steps, and then fell on his face. Marion rushed toward +him, and tried to lift him, but could not. I put her aside gently, +and placed my hand on his heart. + +“Marion,” said I, “it is perhaps better as it is. He is dead!” + + + + +Fitzjames O’Brien + + + + +My Wife’s Tempter + + +I + +A PREDESTINED MARRIAGE + +Elsie and I were to be married in less than a week. It was rather +a strange match, and I knew that some of our neighbors shook their +heads over it and said that no good would come. The way it came to +pass was thus. + +I loved Elsie Burns for two years, during which time she refused me +three times. I could no more help asking her to have me, when the +chance offered, than I could help breathing or living. To love her +seemed natural to me as existence. I felt no shame, only sorrow, +when she rejected me; I felt no shame either when I renewed my +suit. The neighbors called me mean-spirited to take up with any +girl that had refused me as often as Elsie Burns had done; but what +cared I about the neighbors? If it is black weather, and the sun +is under a cloud every day for a month, is that any reason why the +poor farmer should not hope for the blue sky and the plentiful +burst of warm light when the dark month is over? I never entirely +lost heart. Do not, however, mistake me. I did not mope, and +moan, and grow pale, after the manner of poetical lovers. No such +thing. I went bravely about my business, ate and drank as usual, +laughed when the laugh went round, and slept soundly, and woke +refreshed. Yet all this time I loved—desperately loved—Elsie +Burns. I went wherever I hoped to meet her, but did not haunt her +with my attentions. I behaved to her as any friendly young man +would have behaved: I met her and parted from her cheerfully. She +was a good girl, too, and behaved well. She had me in her power— +how a woman in Elsie’s situation could have mortified a man in +mine!—but she never took the slightest advantage of it. She +danced with me when I asked her, and had no foolish fears of +allowing me to see her home of nights, after a ball was over, or of +wandering with me through the pleasant New England fields when the +wild flowers made the paths like roads in fairyland. + +On the several disastrous occasions when I presented my suit I did +it simply and manfully, telling her that I loved her very much, and +would do everything to make her happy if she would be my wife. I +made no fulsome protestations, and did not once allude to suicide. +She, on the other hand, calmly and gravely thanked me for my good +opinion, but with the same calm gravity rejected me. I used to +tell her that I was grieved; that I would not press her; that I +would wait and hope for some change in her feelings. She had an +esteem for me, she would say, but could not marry me. I never +asked her for any reasons. I hold it to be an insult to a woman of +sense to demand her reasons on such an occasion. Enough for me +that she did not then wish to be my wife; so that the old +intercourse went on—she cordial and polite as ever, I never for +one moment doubting that the day would come when my roof tree would +shelter her, and we should smile together over our fireside at my +long and indefatigable wooing. + +I will confess that at times I felt a little jealous—jealous of a +man named Hammond Brake, who lived in our village. He was a weird, +saturnine fellow, who made no friends among the young men of the +neighborhood, but who loved to go alone, with his books and his own +thoughts for company. He was a studious and, I believe, a learned +young man, and there was no avoiding the fact that he possessed +considerable influence over Elsie. She liked to talk with him in +corners, or in secluded nooks of the forest, when we all went out +blackberry gathering or picnicking. She read books that he gave +her, and whenever a discussion arose relative to any topic higher +than those ordinary ones we usually canvassed, Elsie appealed to +Brake for his opinion, as a disciple consulting a beloved master. +I confess that for a time I feared this man as a rival. A little +closer observation, however, convinced me that my suspicions were +unfounded. The relations between Elsie and Hammond Brake were +purely intellectual. She reverenced his talents and acquirements, +but she did not love him. His influence over her, nevertheless, +was none the less decided. + +In time—as I thought all along—Elsie yielded. I was what was +considered a most eligible match, being tolerably rich, and Elsie’s +parents were most anxious to have me for a son-in-law. I was good- +looking and well educated enough, and the old people, I believe, +pertinaciously dinned all my advantages into my little girl’s ears. +She battled against the marriage for a long time with a strange +persistence—all the more strange because she never alleged the +slightest personal dislike to me; but after a vigorous cannonading +from her own garrison (in which, I am proud to say, I did not in +any way join), she hoisted the white flag and surrendered. + +I was very happy. I had no fear about being able to gain Elsie’s +heart. I think—indeed I know—that she had liked me all along, +and that her refusals were dictated by other feelings than those of +a personal nature. I only guessed as much then. It was some time +before I knew all. + +As the day approached for our wedding Elsie did not appear at all +stricken with woe. The village gossips had not the smallest +opportunity for establishing a romance, with a compulsory bride for +the heroine. Yet to me it seemed as if there was something strange +about her. A vague terror appeared to beset her. Even in her most +loving moments, when resting in my arms, she would shrink away from +me, and shudder as if some cold wind had suddenly struck upon her. +That it was caused by no aversion to me was evident, for she would +the moment after, as if to make amends, give me one of those +voluntary kisses that are sweeter than all others. + +Once only did she show any emotion. When the solemn question was +put to her, the answer to which was to decide her destiny, I felt +her hand—which was in mine—tremble. As she gasped out a +convulsive “Yes,” she gave one brief, imploring glance at the +gallery on the right. I placed the ring upon her finger, and +looked in the direction in which she gazed. Hammond Brake’s dark +countenance was visible looking over the railings, and his eyes +were bent sternly on Elsie. I turned quickly round to my bride, +but her brief emotion, of whatever nature, had vanished. She was +looking at me anxiously, and smiling—somewhat sadly—through her +maiden’s tears. + +The months went by quickly, and we were very happy. I learned that +Elsie really loved me, and of my love for her she had proof long +ago. I will not say that there was no cloud upon our little +horizon. There was one, but it was so small, and appeared so +seldom, that I scarcely feared it. The old vague terror seemed +still to attack my wife. If I did not know her to be pure as +heaven’s snow, I would have said it was a REMORSE. At times she +scarcely appeared to hear what I said, so deep would be her +reverie. Nor did those moods seem pleasant ones. When rapt in +such, her sweet features would contract, as if in a hopeless effort +to solve some mysterious problem. A sad pain, as it were, quivered +in her white, drooped eyelids. One thing I particularly remarked: +SHE SPENT HOURS AT A TIME GAZING AT THE WEST. There was a small +room in our house whose windows, every evening, flamed with the red +light of the setting sun. Here Elsie would sit and gaze westward, +so motionless and entranced that it seemed as if her soul was going +down with the day. Her conduct to me was curiously varied. She +apparently loved me very much, yet there were times when she +absolutely avoided me. I have seen her strolling through the +fields, and left the house with the intention of joining her, but +the moment she caught sight of me approaching she has fled into the +neighboring copse, with so evident a wish to avoid me that it would +have been absolutely cruel to follow. + +Once or twice the old jealousy of Hammond Brake crossed my mind, +but I was obliged to dismiss it as a frivolous suspicion. Nothing +in my wife’s conduct justified any such theory. Brake visited us +once or twice a week—in fact, when I returned from my business in +the village, I used to find him seated in the parlor with Elsie, +reading some favorite author, or conversing on some novel literary +topic; but there was no disposition to avoid my scrutiny. Brake +seemed to come as a matter of right; and the perfect +unconsciousness of furnishing any grounds for suspicion with which +he acted was a sufficient answer to my mind for any wild doubts +that my heart may have suggested. + +Still I could not but remark that Brake’s visits were in some +manner connected with Elsie’s melancholy. On the days when he had +appeared and departed, the gloom seemed to hang more thickly than +ever over her head. She sat, on such occasions, all the evening at +the western window, silently gazing at the cleft in the hills +through which the sun passed to his repose. + +At last I made up my mind to speak to her. It seemed to me to be +my duty, if she had a sorrow, to partake of it. I approached her +on the matter with the most perfect confidence that I had nothing +to learn beyond the existence of some girlish grief, which a +confession and a few loving kisses would exorcise forever. + +“Elsie,” I said to her one night, as she sat, according to her +custom, gazing westward, like those maidens of the old ballads of +chivalry watching for the knights that never came—“Elsie, what is +the matter with you, darling? I have noticed a strange melancholy +in you for some time past. Tell me all about it.” + +She turned quickly round and gazed at me with eyes wide open and +face filled with a sudden fear. “Why do you ask me that, Mark?” +she answered. “I have nothing to tell.” + +From the strange, startled manner in which this reply was given, I +felt convinced that she had something to tell, and instantly formed +a determination to discover what it was. A pang shot through my +heart as I thought that the woman whom I held dearer than anything +on earth hesitated to trust me with a petty secret. + +I believed I understood. I was tolerably rich. I knew it could +not be any secret over milliners’ bills or women’s usual money +troubles. God help me! I felt sad enough at the moment, though I +kissed her back and ceased to question her. I felt sad, because my +instinct told me that she deceived me; and it is very hard to be +deceived, even in trifles, by those we love. I left her sitting at +her favorite window, and walked out into the fields. I wanted to +think. + +I remained out until I saw lights in the parlor shining through the +dusky evening; then I returned slowly. As I passed the windows— +which were near the ground, our house being cottage-built—I looked +in. Hammond Brake was sitting with my wife. She was sitting in a +rocking chair opposite to him, holding a small volume open on her +lap. Brake was talking to her very earnestly, and she was +listening to him with an expression I had never before seen on her +countenance. Awe, fear, and admiration were all blent together in +those dilating eyes. She seemed absorbed, body and soul, in what +this man said. I shuddered at the sight. A vague terror seized +upon me; I hastened into the house. As I entered the room rather +suddenly, my wife started and hastily concealed the little volume +that lay on her lap in one of her wide pockets. As she did so, a +loose leaf escaped from the volume and slowly fluttered to the +floor unobserved by either her or her companion. But I had my eye +upon it. I felt that it was a clew. + +“What new novel or philosophical wonder have you both been poring +over?” I asked quite gayly, stealthily watching at the same time +the telltale embarrassment under which Elsie was laboring. + +Brake, who was not in the least discomposed, replied. “That,” said +he, “is a secret which must be kept from you. It is an advance +copy, and is not to be shown to anyone except your wife.” + +“Ha!” cried I, “I know what it is. It is your volume of poems that +Ticknor is publishing. Well, I can wait until it is regularly for +sale.” + +I knew that Brake had a volume in the hands of the publishing house +I mentioned, with a vague promise of publication some time in the +present century. Hammond smiled significantly, but did not reply. +He evidently wished to cultivate this supposed impression of mine. +Elsie looked relieved, and heaved a deep sigh. I felt more than +ever convinced that a secret was beneath all this. So I drew my +chair over the fallen leaf that lay unnoticed on the carpet, and +talked and laughed with Hammond Brake gayly, as if nothing was on +my mind, while all the time a great load of suspicion lay heavily +at my heart. + +At length Hammond Brake rose to go. I wished him good night, but +did not offer to accompany him to the door. My wife supplied this +omitted courtesy, as I had expected. The moment I was alone I +picked up the book leaf from the floor. It was NOT the leaf of a +volume of poems. Beyond that, however, I learned nothing. It +contained a string of paragraphs printed in the biblical fashion, +and the language was biblical in style. It seemed to be a portion +of some religious book. Was it possible that my wife was being +converted to the Romish faith? Yes, that was it. Brake was a +Jesuit in disguise—I had heard of such things—and had stolen into +the bosom of my family to plant there his destructive errors. +There could be no longer any doubt of it. This was some portion of +a Romish book—some infamous Popish publication. Fool that I was +not to see it all before! But there was yet time. I would forbid +him the house. + +I had just formed this resolution when my wife entered. I put the +strange leaf in my pocket and took my hat. + +“Why, you are not going out, surely?” cried Elsie, surprised. + +“I have a headache,” I answered. “I will take a short walk.” + +Elsie looked at me with a peculiar air of distrust. Her woman’s +instinct told her that there was something wrong. Before she could +question me, however, I had left the room and was walking rapidly +on Hammond Brake’s track. + +He heard the footsteps, and I saw his figure, black against the +sky, stop and peer back through the dusk to see who was following +him. + +“It is I, Brake,” I called out. “Stop; I wish to speak with you.” + +He stopped, and in a minute or so we were walking side by side +along the road. My fingers itched at that moment to be on his +throat. I commenced the conversation. + +“Brake,” I said, “I’m a very plain sort of man, and I never say +anything without good reason. What I came after you to tell you +is, that I don’t wish you to come to my house any more, or to speak +with Elsie any farther than the ordinary salutations go. It’s no +joke. I’m quite in earnest.” + +Brake started, and, stopping short, faced me suddenly in the road. +“What have I done?” he asked. “You surely are too sensible a man +to be jealous, Dayton.” + +“Oh,” I answered scornfully, “not jealous in the ordinary sense of +the word, a bit. But I don’t think your company good company for +my wife, Brake. If you WILL have it out of me, I suspect you of +being a Roman Catholic, and of trying to convert my wife.” + +A smile shot across his face, and I saw his sharp white teeth gleam +for an instant in the dusk. + +“Well, what if I am a Papist?” he said, with a strange tone of +triumph in his voice. “The faith is not criminal. Besides, what +proof have you that I was attempting to proselyte your wife?” + +“This,” said I, pulling the leaf from my pocket—“this leaf from +one of those devilish Papist books you and she were reading this +evening. I picked it up from the floor. Proof enough, I think!” + +In an instant Brake had snatched the leaf from my hand and torn it +into atoms. + +“You shall be obeyed,” he said. “I will not speak with Elsie as +long as she is your wife. Good night. You think I’m a Papist, +then, Dayton? You’re a clever fellow!” + +And with rather a sneering chuckle he marched on along the road and +vanished into the darkness. + + +II + +THE SECRET DISCOVERED + + +Brake came no more. I said nothing to Elsie about his prohibition, +and his name was never mentioned. It seemed strange to me that she +should not speak of his absence, and I was very much puzzled by her +silence. Her moodiness seemed to have increased, and, what was +most remarkable, in proportion as she grew more and more reserved, +the intenser were the bursts of affection which she exhibited for +me. She would strain me to her bosom and kiss me, as if she and I +were about to be parted forever. Then for hours she would remain +sitting at her window, silently gazing, with that terrible, wistful +gaze of hers, at the west. + +I will confess to having watched my wife at this time. I could not +help it. That some mystery hung about her I felt convinced. I +must fathom it or die. Her honor I never for a moment doubted; yet +there seemed to weigh continually upon me the prophecy of some +awful domestic calamity. This time the prophecy was not in vain. + +About three weeks after I had forbidden Brake my house, I was +strolling over my farm in the evening apparently inspecting my +agriculture, but in reality speculating on that topic which +latterly was ever present to me. + +There was a little knoll covered with evergreen oaks at the end of +the lawn. It was a picturesque spot, for on one side the bank went +off into a sheer precipice of about eighty feet in depth, at the +bottom of which a pretty pool lay, that in the summer time was +fringed with white water-lilies. I had thought of building a +summer-house in this spot, and now my steps mechanically directed +themselves toward the place. As I approached I heard voices. I +stopped and listened eagerly. A few seconds enabled me to +ascertain that Hammond Brake and my wife were in the copse talking +together. She still followed him, then; and he, scoundrel that he +was, had broken his promise. A fury seemed to fill my veins as I +made this discovery. I felt the impulse strong upon me to rush +into the grove, and then and there strangle the villain who was +poisoning my peace. But with a powerful effort I restrained +myself. It was necessary that I should overhear what was said. I +threw myself flat on the grass, and so glided silently into the +copse until I was completely within earshot. This was what I +heard. + +My wife was sobbing. “So soon—so soon? I—Hammond, give me a +little time!” + +“I cannot, Elsie. My chief orders me to join him. You must +prepare to accompany me.” + +“No, no!” murmured Elsie. “He loves me so! And I love him. Our +child, too—how can I rob him of our unborn babe?” + +“Another sheep for our flock,” answered Brake solemnly. “Elsie, do +you forget your oath? Are you one of us, or are you a common +hypocrite, who will be of us until the hour of self-sacrifice, and +then fly like a coward? Elsie, you must leave to-night.” + +“Ah! my husband, my husband!” sobbed the unhappy woman. + +“You have no husband, woman,” cried Brake harshly. “I promised +Dayton not to speak to you as long as you were his wife, but the +vow was annulled before it was made. Your husband in God yet +awaits you. You will yet be blessed with the true spouse.” + +“I feel as if I were going to die,” cried Elsie. “How can I ever +forsake him—he who was so good to me?” + +“Nonsense! no weakness. He is not worthy of you. Go home and +prepare for your journey. You know where to meet me. I will have +everything ready, and by daybreak there shall be no trace of us +left. Beware of permitting your husband to suspect anything. He +is not very shrewd at such things—he thought I was a Jesuit in +disguise—but we had better be careful. Now go. You have been too +long here already. Bless you, sister.” + +A few faint sobs, a rustling of leaves, and I knew that Brake was +alone. I rose, and stepped silently into the open space in which +he stood. His back was toward me. His arms were lifted high over +his head with an exultant gesture, and I could see his profile, as +it slightly turned toward me, illuminated with a smile of scornful +triumph. I put my hand suddenly on his throat from behind, and +flung him on the ground before he could utter a cry. + +“Not a word,” I said, unclasping a short-bladed knife which I +carried; “answer my questions, or, by heaven, I will cut your +throat from ear to ear!” + +He looked up into my face with an unflinching eye, and set his lips +as if resolved to suffer all. + +“What are you? Who are you? What object have you in the seduction +of my wife?” + +He smiled, but was silent. + +“Ah! you won’t answer. We’ll see.” + +I pressed the knife slowly against his throat. His face contracted +spasmodically, but although a thin red thread of blood sprang out +along the edge of the blade, Brake remained mute. An idea suddenly +seized me. This sort of death had no terrors for him. I would try +another. There was the precipice. I was twice as powerful as he +was, so I seized him in my arms, and in a moment transported him to +the margin of the steep, smooth cliff, the edge of which was +garnished with the tough stems of the wild vine. He seemed to feel +it was useless to struggle with me, so allowed me passively to roll +him over the edge. When he was suspended in the air, I gave him a +vine stem to cling to and let him go. He swung at a height of +eighty feet, with face upturned and pale. He dared not look down. +I seated myself on the edge of the cliff, and with my knife began +to cut into the thick vine a foot or two above the place of his +grasp. I was correct in my calculation. This terror was too much +for him. As he saw the notch in the vine getting deeper and +deeper, his determination gave way. + +“I’ll answer you,” he gasped out, gazing at me with starting +eyeballs; “what do you ask?” + +“What are you?” was my question, as I ceased cutting at the stem. + +“A Mormon,” was the answer, uttered with a groan. “Take me up. My +hands are slipping. Quick!” + +“And you wanted my wife to follow you to that infernal Salt Lake, +City, I suppose?” + +“For God’s sake, release me! I’ll quit the place, never to come +back. Do help me up, Dayton—I’m falling!” + +I felt mightily inclined to let the villain drop; but it did not +suit my purpose to be hung for murder, so I swung him back again on +the sward, where he fell panting and exhausted. + +“Will you quit the place to-night?” I said. “You’d better. By +heaven, if you don’t, I’ll tell all the men in the village, and +we’ll lynch you, as sure as your name is Brake.” + +“I’ll go—I’ll go,” he groaned. “I swear never to trouble you +again.” + +“You ought to be hanged, you villain. Be off!” + +He slunk away through the trees like a beaten dog; and I went home +in a state bordering on despair. I found Elsie crying. She was +sitting by the window as of old. I knew now why she gazed so +constantly at the west. It was her Mecca. Something in my face, I +suppose, told her that I was laboring under great excitement. She +rose startled as soon as I entered the room. + +“Elsie,” said I, “I am come to take you home.” + +“Home? Why, I AM at home, am I not? What do you mean?” + +“No. This is no longer your home. You have deceived me. You are +a Mormon. I know all. You have become a convert to that apostle +of hell, Brigham Young, and you cannot live with me. I love you +still, Elsie, dearly; but—you must go and live with your father.” + + + + +Nathaniel Hawthorne + + + + +The Minister’s Black Veil + + +A PARABLE[1] + + +[1] Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of York, +Maine, made himself remarkable by the same eccentricity that is +here related of the Reverend Mr. Hooper. In his case, however, +the symbol had a different import. In early life he had +accidentally killed a beloved friend, and from that day till +the hour of his own death, he hid his face from men. + + +The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting-house, pulling +busily at the bell-rope. The old people of the village came +stooping along the street. Children, with bright faces, tripped +merrily beside their parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in the +conscious dignity of their Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors +looked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that the +Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than on week days. When the +throng had mostly streamed into the porch, the sexton began to +toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr. Hooper’s door. +The first glimpse of the clergyman’s figure was the signal for +the bell to cease its summons. + +“But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?” cried the +sexton in astonishment. + +All within hearing immediately turned about, and beheld the +semblance of Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly his meditative way towards +the meetinghouse. With one accord they started, expressing more +wonder than if some strange minister were coming to dust the +cushions of Mr. Hooper’s pulpit. + +“Are you sure it is our parson?” inquired Goodman Gray of the +sexton. + +“Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper,” replied the sexton. “He +was to have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute, of Westbury; but +Parson Shute sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a +funeral sermon.” + +The cause of so much amazement may appear sufficiently slight. +Mr. Hooper, a gentlemanly person, of about thirty, though still a +bachelor, was dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a careful +wife had starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from his +Sunday’s garb. There was but one thing remarkable in his +appearance. Swathed about his forehead, and hanging down over his +face, so low as to be shaken by his breath, Mr. Hooper had on a +black veil. On a nearer view it seemed to consist of two folds of +crape, which entirely concealed his features, except the mouth +and chin, but probably did not intercept his sight, further than +to give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things. +With this gloomy shade before him, good Mr. Hooper walked onward, +at a slow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat, and looking on the +ground, as is customary with abstracted men, yet nodding kindly to +those of his parishioners who still waited on the meeting-house +steps. But so wonder-struck were they that his greeting hardly +met with a return. + +“I can’t really feel as if good Mr. Hooper’s face was behind that +piece of crape,” said the sexton. + +“I don’t like it,” muttered an old woman, as she hobbled into the +meeting-house. “He has changed himself into something awful, only +by hiding his face.” + +“Our parson has gone mad!” cried Goodman Gray, following him +across the threshold. + +A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had preceded Mr. Hooper +into the meeting-house, and set all the congregation astir. Few +could refrain from twisting their heads towards the door; many +stood upright, and turned directly about; while several little +boys clambered upon the seats, and came down again with a +terrible racket. There was a general bustle, a rustling of the +women’s gowns and shuffling of the men’s feet, greatly at +variance with that hushed repose which should attend the entrance +of the minister. But Mr. Hooper appeared not to notice the +perturbation of his people. He entered with an almost noiseless +step, bent his head mildly to the pews on each side, and bowed as +he passed his oldest parishioner, a white-haired great grandsire, +who occupied an arm-chair in the centre of the aisle. It was +strange to observe how slowly this venerable man became conscious +of something singular in the appearance of his pastor. He seemed +not fully to partake of the prevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooper +had ascended the stairs, and showed himself in the pulpit, face +to face with his congregation, except for the black veil. That +mysterious emblem was never once withdrawn. It shook with his +measured breath, as he gave out the psalm; it threw its obscurity +between him and the holy page, as he read the Scriptures; and +while he prayed, the veil lay heavily on his uplifted +countenance. Did he seek to hide it from the dread Being whom he +was addressing? + +Such was the effect of this simple piece of crape, that more +than one woman of delicate nerves was forced to leave the +meeting-house. Yet perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost +as fearful a sight to the minister, as his black veil to them. + +Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good preacher, but not an +energetic one: he strove to win his people heavenward by mild, +persuasive influences, rather than to drive them thither by the +thunders of the Word. The sermon which he now delivered was +marked by the same characteristics of style and manner as the +general series of his pulpit oratory. But there was something, +either in the sentiment of the discourse itself, or in the +imagination of the auditors, which made it greatly the most +powerful effort that they had ever heard from their pastor’s +lips. It was tinged, rather more darkly than usual, with the +gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper’s temperament. The subject had +reference to secret sin, and those sad mysteries which we hide +from our nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal from our own +consciousness, even forgetting that the Omniscient can detect +them. A subtle power was breathed into his words. Each member of +the congregation, the most innocent girl, and the man of hardened +breast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them, behind his +awful veil, and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or +thought. Many spread their clasped hands on their bosoms. There +was nothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said, at least, no +violence; and yet, with every tremor of his melancholy voice, the +hearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. So +sensible were the audience of some unwonted attribute in their +minister, that they longed for a breath of wind to blow aside the +veil, almost believing that a stranger’s visage would be +discovered, though the form, gesture, and voice were those of Mr. +Hooper. + +At the close of the services, the people hurried out with +indecorous confusion, eager to communicate their pent-up +amazement, and conscious of lighter spirits the moment they lost +sight of the black veil. Some gathered in little circles, huddled +closely together, with their mouths all whispering in the centre; +some went homeward alone, wrapt in silent meditation; some talked +loudly, and profaned the Sabbath day with ostentatious laughter. +A few shook their sagacious heads, intimating that they could +penetrate the mystery; while one or two affirmed that there was +no mystery at all, but only that Mr. Hooper’s eyes were so +weakened by the midnight lamp, as to require a shade. After a +brief interval, forth came good Mr. Hooper also, in the rear of +his flock. Turning his veiled face from one group to another, he +paid due reverence to the hoary heads, saluted the middle aged +with kind dignity as their friend and spiritual guide, greeted +the young with mingled authority and love, and laid his hands on +the little children’s heads to bless them. Such was always his +custom on the Sabbath day. Strange and bewildered looks repaid +him for his courtesy. None, as on former occasions, aspired to +the honor of walking by their pastor’s side. Old Squire Saunders, +doubtless by an accidental lapse of memory, neglected to invite +Mr. Hooper to his table, where the good clergyman had been wont +to bless the food, almost every Sunday since his settlement. He +returned, therefore, to the parsonage, and, at the moment of +closing the door, was observed to look back upon the people, all +of whom had their eyes fixed upon the minister. A sad smile +gleamed faintly from beneath the black veil, and flickered about +his mouth, glimmering as he disappeared. + +“How strange,” said a lady, “that a simple black veil, such as +any woman might wear on her bonnet, should become such a terrible +thing on Mr. Hooper’s face!” + +“Something must surely be amiss with Mr. Hooper’s intellects,” +observed her husband, the physician of the village. “But the +strangest part of the affair is the effect of this vagary, even +on a sober-minded man like myself. The black veil, though it +covers only our pastor’s face, throws its influence over his +whole person, and makes him ghostlike from head to foot. Do you +not feel it so?” + +“Truly do I,” replied the lady; “and I would not be alone with +him for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with +himself!” + +“Men sometimes are so,” said her husband. + +The afternoon service was attended with similar circumstances. At +its conclusion, the bell tolled for the funeral of a young lady. +The relatives and friends were assembled in the house, and the +more distant acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the +good qualities of the deceased, when their talk was interrupted +by the appearance of Mr. Hooper, still covered with his black +veil. It was now an appropriate emblem. The clergyman stepped +into the room where the corpse was laid, and bent over the +coffin, to take a last farewell of his deceased parishioner. As +he stooped, the veil hung straight down from his forehead, so +that, if her eyelids had not been closed forever, the dead maiden +might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful of her +glance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil? A person +who watched the interview between the dead and living, scrupled +not to affirm, that, at the instant when the clergyman’s features +were disclosed, the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the +shroud and muslin cap, though the countenance retained the +composure of death. A superstitious old woman was the only +witness of this prodigy. From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into +the chamber of the mourners, and thence to the head of the +staircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was a tender and +heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet so imbued with +celestial hopes, that the music of a heavenly harp, swept by the +fingers of the dead, seemed faintly to be heard among the saddest +accents of the minister. The people trembled, though they but +darkly understood him when he prayed that they, and himself, and +all of mortal race, might be ready, as he trusted this young +maiden had been, for the dreadful hour that should snatch the +veil from their faces. The bearers went heavily forth, and the +mourners followed, saddening all the street, with the dead before +them, and Mr. Hooper in his black veil behind. + +“Why do you look back?” said one in the procession to his +partner. + +“I had a fancy,” replied she, “that the minister and the maiden’s +spirit were walking hand in hand.” + +“And so had I, at the same moment,” said the other. + +That night, the handsomest couple in Milford village were to be +joined in wedlock. Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper +had a placid cheerfulness for such occasions, which often excited +a sympathetic smile where livelier merriment would have been +thrown away. There was no quality of his disposition which made +him more beloved than this. The company at the wedding awaited +his arrival with impatience, trusting that the strange awe, which +had gathered over him throughout the day, would now be dispelled. +But such was not the result. When Mr. Hooper came, the first +thing that their eyes rested on was the same horrible black veil, +which had added deeper gloom to the funeral, and could portend +nothing but evil to the wedding. Such was its immediate effect on +the guests that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily from +beneath the black crape, and dimmed the light of the candles. The +bridal pair stood up before the minister. But the bride’s cold +fingers quivered in the tremulous hand of the bridegroom, and her +deathlike paleness caused a whisper that the maiden who had been +buried a few hours before was come from her grave to be married. +If ever another wedding were so dismal, it was that famous one +where they tolled the wedding knell. After performing the +ceremony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wine to his lips, wishing +happiness to the new-married couple in a strain of mild pleasantry +that ought to have brightened the features of the guests, like a +cheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catching a +glimpse of his figure in the looking-glass, the black veil +involved his own spirit in the horror with which it overwhelmed +all others. His frame shuddered, his lips grew white, he spilt +the untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed forth into the +darkness. For the Earth, too, had on her Black Veil. + +The next day, the whole village of Milford talked of little else +than Parson Hooper’s black veil. That, and the mystery concealed +behind it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances +meeting in the street, and good women gossiping at their open +windows. It was the first item of news that the tavern-keeper +told to his guests. The children babbled of it on their way to +school. One imitative little imp covered his face with an old +black handkerchief, thereby so affrighting his playmates that the +panic seized himself, and he well-nigh lost his wits by his own +waggery. + +It was remarkable that all of the busybodies and impertinent +people in the parish, not one ventured to put the plain question +to Mr. Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever +there appeared the slightest call for such interference, he had +never lacked advisers, nor shown himself averse to be guided by +their judgment. If he erred at all, it was by so painful a degree +of self-distrust, that even the mildest censure would lead him to +consider an indifferent action as a crime. Yet, though so well +acquainted with this amiable weakness, no individual among his +parishioners chose to make the black veil a subject of friendly +remonstrance. There was a feeling of dread, neither plainly +confessed nor carefully concealed, which caused each to shift the +responsibility upon another, till at length it was found +expedient to send a deputation of the church, in order to deal +with Mr. Hooper about the mystery, before it should grow into a +scandal. Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties. The +minister received then with friendly courtesy, but became silent, +after they were seated, leaving to his visitors the whole burden +of introducing their important business. The topic, it might be +supposed, was obvious enough. There was the black veil swathed +round Mr. Hooper’s forehead, and concealing every feature above +his placid mouth, on which, at times, they could perceive the +glimmering of a melancholy smile. But that piece of crape, to +their imagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, the +symbol of a fearful secret between him and them. Were the veil +but cast aside, they might speak freely of it, but not till then. +Thus they sat a considerable time, speechless, confused, and +shrinking uneasily from Mr. Hooper’s eye, which they felt to be +fixed upon them with an invisible glance. Finally, the deputies +returned abashed to their constituents, pronouncing the matter +too weighty to be handled, except by a council of the churches, +if, indeed, it might not require a general synod. + +But there was one person in the village unappalled by the awe +with which the black veil had impressed all beside herself. When +the deputies returned without an explanation, or even venturing +to demand one, she, with the calm energy of her character, +determined to chase away the strange cloud that appeared to be +settling round Mr. Hooper, every moment more darkly than before. +As his plighted wife, it should be her privilege to know what the +black veil concealed. At the minister’s first visit, therefore, +she entered upon the subject with a direct simplicity, which made +the task easier both for him and her. After he had seated +himself, she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon the veil, but could +discern nothing of the dreadful gloom that had so overawed the +multitude: it was but a double fold of crape, hanging down from +his forehead to his mouth, and slightly stirring with his breath. + +“No,” said she aloud, and smiling, “there is nothing terrible in +this piece of crape, except that it hides a face which I am +always glad to look upon. Come, good sir, let the sun shine from +behind the cloud. First lay aside your black veil: then tell me +why you put it on.” + +Mr. Hooper’s smile glimmered faintly. + +“There is an hour to come,” said he, “when all of us shall cast +aside our veils. Take it not amiss, beloved friend, if I wear +this piece of crape till then.” + +“Your words are a mystery, too,” returned the young lady. “Take +away the veil from them, at least.” + +“Elizabeth, I will,” said he, “so far as my vow may suffer me. +Know, then, this veil is a type and a symbol, and I am bound to +wear it ever, both in light and darkness, in solitude and before +the gaze of multitudes, and as with strangers, so with my +familiar friends. No mortal eye will see it withdrawn. This +dismal shade must separate me from the world: even you, +Elizabeth, can never come behind it!” + +“What grievous affliction hath befallen you,” she earnestly +inquired, “that you should thus darken your eyes forever?” + +“If it be a sign of mourning,” replied Mr. Hooper, “I, perhaps, +like most other mortals, have sorrows dark enough to be typified +by a black veil.” + +“But what if the world will not believe that it is the type of an +innocent sorrow?” urged Elizabeth. “Beloved and respected as you +are, there may be whispers that you hide your face under the +consciousness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, do +away this scandal!” + +The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated the nature of the +rumors that were already abroad in the village. But Mr. Hooper’s +mildness did not forsake him. He even smiled again—that same sad +smile, which always appeared like a faint glimmering of light, +proceeding from the obscurity beneath the veil. + +“If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause enough,” he merely +replied; “and if I cover it for secret sin, what mortal might not +do the same?” + +And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy did he resist +all her entreaties. At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few +moments she appeared lost in thought, considering, probably, what +new methods might be tried to withdraw her lover from so dark a +fantasy, which, if it had no other meaning, was perhaps a symptom +of mental disease. Though of a firmer character than his own, the +tears rolled down her cheeks. But, in an instant, as it were, a +new feeling took the place of sorrow: her eyes were fixed +insensibly on the black veil, when, like a sudden twilight in the +air, its terrors fell around her. She arose, and stood trembling +before him. + +“And do you feel it then, at last?” said he mournfully. + +She made no reply, but covered her eyes with her hand, and turned +to leave the room. He rushed forward and caught her arm. + +“Have patience with me, Elizabeth!” cried he, passionately. “Do +not desert me, though this veil must be between us here on earth. +Be mine, and hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, no +darkness between our souls! It is but a mortal veil—it is not +for eternity! O! you know not how lonely I am, and how +frightened, to be alone behind my black veil. Do not leave me in +this miserable obscurity forever!” + +“Lift the veil but once, and look me in the face,” said she. + +“Never! It cannot be!” replied Mr. Hooper. + +“Then farewell!” said Elizabeth. + +She withdrew her arm from his grasp, and slowly departed, pausing +at the door, to give one long shuddering gaze, that seemed almost +to penetrate the mystery of the black veil. But, even amid his +grief, Mr. Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem had +separated him from happiness, though the horrors, which it +shadowed forth, must be drawn darkly between the fondest of +lovers. + +From that time no attempts were made to remove Mr. Hooper’s black +veil, or, by a direct appeal, to discover the secret which it was +supposed to hide. By persons who claimed a superiority to popular +prejudice, it was reckoned merely an eccentric whim, such as +often mingles with the sober actions of men otherwise rational, +and tinges them all with its own semblance of insanity. But with +the multitude, good Mr. Hooper was irreparably a bugbear. He could +not walk the street with any peace of mind, so conscious was he +that the gentle and timid would turn aside to avoid him, and that +others would make it a point of hardihood to throw themselves in +his way. The impertinence of the latter class compelled him to +give up his customary walk at sunset to the burial ground; for +when he leaned pensively over the gate, there would always be +faces behind the gravestones, peeping at his black veil. A fable +went the rounds that the stare of the dead people drove him +thence. It grieved him, to the very depth of his kind heart, to +observe how the children fled from his approach, breaking up +their merriest sports, while his melancholy figure was yet afar +off. Their instinctive dread caused him to feel more strongly +than aught else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven with +the threads of the black crape. In truth, his own antipathy to +the veil was known to be so great, that he never willingly passed +before a mirror, nor stooped to drink at a still fountain, lest, +in its peaceful bosom, he should be affrighted by himself. This +was what gave plausibility to the whispers, that Mr. Hooper’s +conscience tortured him for some great crime too horrible to be +entirely concealed, or otherwise than so obscurely intimated. +Thus, from beneath the black veil, there rolled a cloud into the +sunshine, an ambiguity of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the poor +minister, so that love or sympathy could never reach him. It was +said that ghost and fiend consorted with him there. With +self-shudderings and outward terrors, he walked continually in +its shadow, groping darkly within his own soul, or gazing through +a medium that saddened the whole world. Even the lawless wind, it +was believed, respected his dreadful secret, and never blew aside +the veil. But still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the pale +visages of the worldly throng as he passed by. + +Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the one +desirable effect, of making its wearer a very efficient +clergyman. By the aid of his mysterious emblem—for there was no +other apparent cause—he became a man of awful power over souls +that were in agony for sin. His converts always regarded him with +a dread peculiar to themselves, affirming, though but +figuratively, that, before he brought them to celestial light, +they had been with him behind the black veil. Its gloom, indeed, +enabled him to sympathize with all dark affections. Dying sinners +cried aloud for Mr. Hooper, and would not yield their breath till +he appeared; though ever, as he stooped to whisper consolation, +they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own. Such were +the terrors of the black veil, even when Death had bared his +visage! Strangers came long distances to attend service at his +church, with the mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure, +because it was forbidden them to behold his face. But many were +made to quake ere they departed! Once, during Governor Belcher’s +administration, Mr. Hooper was appointed to preach the election +sermon. Covered with his black veil, he stood before the chief +magistrate, the council, and the representatives, and wrought so +deep an impression, that the legislative measures of that year +were characterized by all the gloom and piety of our earliest +ancestral sway. + +In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irreproachable in +outward act, yet shrouded in dismal suspicions; kind and loving, +though unloved, and dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunned +in their health and joy, but ever summoned to their aid in mortal +anguish. As years wore on, shedding their snows above his sable +veil, he acquired a name throughout the New England churches, and +they called him Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners, who +were of mature age when he was settled, had been borne away by +many a funeral: he had one congregation in the church, and a more +crowded one in the churchyard; and having wrought so late into +the evening, and done his work so well, it was now good Father +Hooper’s turn to rest. + +Several persons were visible by the shaded candlelight, in the +death chamber of the old clergyman. Natural connections he had +none. But there was the decorously grave, though unmoved +physician, seeking only to mitigate the last pangs of the patient +whom he could not save. There were the deacons, and other +eminently pious members of his church. There, also, was the +Reverend Mr. Clark, of Westbury, a young and zealous divine, who +had ridden in haste to pray by the bedside of the expiring +minister. There was the nurse, no hired handmaiden of death, but +one whose calm affection had endured thus long in secrecy, in +solitude, amid the chill of age, and would not perish, even at +the dying hour. Who, but Elizabeth! And there lay the hoary head +of good Father Hooper upon the death pillow, with the black veil +still swathed about his brow, and reaching down over his face, so +that each more difficult gasp of his faint breath caused it to +stir. All through life that piece of crape had hung between him +and the world: it had separated him from cheerful brotherhood and +woman’s love, and kept him in that saddest of all prisons, his +own heart; and still it lay upon his face, as if to deepen the +gloom of his darksome chamber, and shade him from the sunshine of +eternity. + +For some time previous, his mind had been confused, wavering +doubtfully between the past and the present, and hovering +forward, as it were, at intervals, into the indistinctness of the +world to come. There had been feverish turns, which tossed him +from side to side, and wore away what little strength he had. But +in his most convulsive struggles, and in the wildest vagaries of +his intellect, when no other thought retained its sober +influence, he still showed an awful solicitude lest the black +veil should slip aside. Even if his bewildered soul could have +forgotten, there was a faithful woman at this pillow, who, with +averted eyes, would have covered that aged face, which she had +last beheld in the comeliness of manhood. At length the +death-stricken old man lay quietly in the torpor of mental and +bodily exhaustion, with an imperceptible pulse, and breath that +grew fainter and fainter, except when a long, deep, and irregular +inspiration seemed to prelude the flight of his spirit. + +The minister of Westbury approached the bedside. + +“Venerable Father Hooper,” said he, “the moment of your release +is at hand. Are you ready for the lifting of the veil that shuts +in time from eternity?” + +Father Hooper at first replied merely by a feeble motion of his +head; then, apprehensive, perhaps, that his meaning might be +doubted, he exerted himself to speak. + +“Yea,” said he, in faint accents, “my soul hath a patient +weariness until that veil be lifted.” + +“And is it fitting,” resumed the Reverend Mr. Clark, “that a man +so given to prayer, of such a blameless example, holy in deed and +thought, so far as mortal judgment may pronounce; is it fitting +that a father in the church should leave a shadow on his memory, +that may seem to blacken a life so pure? I pray you, my venerable +brother, let not this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened by your +triumphant aspect as you go to your reward. Before the veil of +eternity be lifted, let me cast aside this black veil from your +face!” + +And thus speaking, the Reverend Mr. Clark bent forward to reveal +the mystery of so many years. But, exerting a sudden energy, that +made all the beholders stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched both +his hands from beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them strongly +on the black veil, resolute to struggle, if the minister of +Westbury would contend with a dying man. + +“Never!” cried the veiled clergyman. “On earth, never!” + +“Dark old man!” exclaimed the affrighted minister, “with what +horrible crime upon your soul are you now passing to the +judgment?” + +Father Hooper’s breath heaved; it rattled in his throat; but, +with a mighty effort, grasping forward with his hands, he caught +hold of life, and held it back till he should speak. He even +raised himself in bed; and there he sat, shivering with the arms +of death around him, while the black veil hung down, awful, at +that last moment, in the gathered terrors of a lifetime. And yet +the faint, sad smile, so often there, now seemed to glimmer from +its obscurity, and linger on Father Hooper’s lips. + +“Why do you tremble at me alone?” cried he, turning his veiled +face round the circle of pale spectators. “Tremble also at each +other! Have men avoided me, and women shown no pity, and children +screamed and fled, only for my black veil? What, but the mystery +which it obscurely typifies, has made this piece of crape so +awful? When the friend shows his inmost heart to his friend; the +lover to his best beloved; when man does not vainly shrink from +the eye of his Creator, loathsomely treasuring up the secret of +his sin; then deem me a monster, for the symbol beneath which I +have lived, and die! I look around me, and, lo! on every visage a +Black Veil!” + +While his auditors shrank from one another, in mutual affright, +Father Hooper fell back upon his pillow, a veiled corpse, with a +faint smile lingering on the lips. Still veiled, they laid him in +his coffin, and a veiled corpse they bore him to the grave. The +grass of many years has sprung up and withered on that grave, the +burial stone is moss-grown, and good Mr. Hooper’s face is dust; +but awful is still the thought that it mouldered beneath the +Black Veil! + + + + +Anonymous + + +Horror: A True Tale + + +I was but nineteen years of age when the incident occurred which +has thrown a shadow over my life; and, ah me! how many and many a +weary year has dragged by since then! Young, happy, and beloved I +was in those long-departed days. They said that I was beautiful. +The mirror now reflects a haggard old woman, with ashen lips and +face of deadly pallor. But do not fancy that you are listening to +a mere puling lament. It is not the flight of years that has +brought me to be this wreck of my former self: had it been so I +could have borne the loss cheerfully, patiently, as the common lot +of all; but it was no natural progress of decay which has robbed me +of bloom, of youth, of the hopes and joys that belong to youth, +snapped the link that bound my heart to another’s, and doomed me to +a lone old age. I try to be patient, but my cross has been heavy, +and my heart is empty and weary, and I long for the death that +comes so slowly to those who pray to die. + +I will try and relate, exactly as it happened, the event which +blighted my life. Though it occurred many years ago, there is no +fear that I should have forgotten any of the minutest +circumstances: they were stamped on my brain too clearly and +burningly, like the brand of a red-hot iron. I see them written in +the wrinkles of my brow, in the dead whiteness of my hair, which +was a glossy brown once, and has known no gradual change from dark +to gray, from gray to white, as with those happy ones who were the +companions of my girlhood, and whose honored age is soothed by the +love of children and grandchildren. But I must not envy them. I +only meant to say that the difficulty of my task has no connection +with want of memory—I remember but too well. But as I take my pen +my hand trembles, my head swims, the old rushing faintness and +Horror comes over me again, and the well-remembered fear is upon +me. Yet I will go on. + +This, briefly, is my story: I was a great heiress, I believe, +though I cared little for the fact; but so it was. My father had +great possessions, and no son to inherit after him. His three +daughters, of whom I was the youngest, were to share the broad +acres among them. I have said, and truly, that I cared little for +the circumstance; and, indeed, I was so rich then in health and +youth and love that I felt myself quite indifferent to all else. +The possession of all the treasures of earth could never have made +up for what I then had—and lost, as I am about to relate. Of +course, we girls knew that we were heiresses, but I do not think +Lucy and Minnie were any the prouder or the happier on that +account. I know I was not. Reginald did not court me for my +money. Of THAT I felt assured. He proved it, Heaven be praised! +when he shrank from my side after the change. Yes, in all my +lonely age, I can still be thankful that he did not keep his word, +as some would have done—did not clasp at the altar a hand he had +learned to loathe and shudder at, because it was full of gold—much +gold! At least he spared me that. And I know that I was loved, +and the knowledge has kept me from going mad through many a weary +day and restless night, when my hot eyeballs had not a tear to +shed, and even to weep was a luxury denied me. + +Our house was an old Tudor mansion. My father was very particular +in keeping the smallest peculiarities of his home unaltered. Thus +the many peaks and gables, the numerous turrets, and the mullioned +windows with their quaint lozenge panes set in lead, remained very +nearly as they had been three centuries back. Over and above the +quaint melancholy of our dwelling, with the deep woods of its park +and the sullen waters of the mere, our neighborhood was thinly +peopled and primitive, and the people round us were ignorant, and +tenacious of ancient ideas and traditions. Thus it was a +superstitious atmosphere that we children were reared in, and we +heard, from our infancy, countless tales of horror, some mere +fables doubtless, others legends of dark deeds of the olden time, +exaggerated by credulity and the love of the marvelous. Our mother +had died when we were young, and our other parent being, though a +kind father, much absorbed in affairs of various kinds, as an +active magistrate and landlord, there was no one to check the +unwholesome stream of tradition with which our plastic minds were +inundated in the company of nurses and servants. As years went on, +however, the old ghostly tales partially lost their effects, and +our undisciplined minds were turned more towards balls, dress, and +partners, and other matters airy and trivial, more welcome to our +riper age. It was at a county assembly that Reginald and I first +met—met and loved. Yes, I am sure that he loved me with all his +heart. It was not as deep a heart as some, I have thought in my +grief and anger; but I never doubted its truth and honesty. +Reginald’s father and mine approved of our growing attachment; and +as for myself, I know I was so happy then, that I look back upon +those fleeting moments as on some delicious dream. I now come to +the change. I have lingered on my childish reminiscences, my +bright and happy youth, and now I must tell the rest—the blight +and the sorrow. + +It was Christmas, always a joyful and a hospitable time in the +country, especially in such an old hall as our home, where quaint +customs and frolics were much clung to, as part and parcel of the +very dwelling itself. The hall was full of guests—so full, +indeed, that there was great difficulty in providing sleeping +accommodation for all. Several narrow and dark chambers in the +turrets—mere pigeon-holes, as we irreverently called what had been +thought good enough for the stately gentlemen of Elizabeth’s reign— +were now allotted to bachelor visitors, after having been empty +for a century. All the spare rooms in the body and wings of the +hall were occupied, of course; and the servants who had been +brought down were lodged at the farm and at the keeper’s, so great +was the demand for space. At last the unexpected arrival of an +elderly relative, who had been asked months before, but scarcely +expected, caused great commotion. My aunts went about wringing +their hands distractedly. Lady Speldhurst was a personage of some +consequence; she was a distant cousin, and had been for years on +cool terms with us all, on account of some fancied affront or +slight when she had paid her LAST visit, about the time of my +christening. She was seventy years old; she was infirm, rich, and +testy; moreover, she was my godmother, though I had forgotten the +fact; but it seems that though I had formed no expectations of a +legacy in my favor, my aunts had done so for me. Aunt Margaret was +especially eloquent on the subject. “There isn’t a room left,” she +said; “was ever anything so unfortunate! We cannot put Lady +Speldhurst into the turrets, and yet where IS she to sleep? And +Rosa’s godmother, too! Poor, dear child, how dreadful! After all +these years of estrangement, and with a hundred thousand in the +funds, and no comfortable, warm room at her own unlimited disposal— +and Christmas, of all times in the year!” What WAS to be done? +My aunts could not resign their own chambers to Lady Speldhurst, +because they had already given them up to some of the married +guests. My father was the most hospitable of men, but he was +rheumatic, gouty, and methodical. His sisters-in-law dared not +propose to shift his quarters; and, indeed, he would have far +sooner dined on prison fare than have been translated to a strange +bed. The matter ended in my giving up my room. I had a strange +reluctance to making the offer, which surprised myself. Was it a +boding of evil to come? I cannot say. We are strangely and +wonderfully made. It MAY have been. At any rate, I do not think +it was any selfish unwillingness to make an old and infirm lady +comfortable by a trifling sacrifice. I was perfectly healthy and +strong. The weather was not cold for the time of the year. It was +a dark, moist Yule—not a snowy one, though snow brooded overhead +in the darkling clouds. I DID make the offer, which became me, I +said with a laugh, as the youngest. My sisters laughed too, and +made a jest of my evident wish to propitiate my godmother. “She is +a fairy godmother, Rosa,” said Minnie; “and you know she was +affronted at your christening, and went away muttering vengeance. +Here she is coming back to see you; I hope she brings golden gifts +with her.” + +I thought little of Lady Speldhurst and her possible golden gifts. +I cared nothing for the wonderful fortune in the funds that my +aunts whispered and nodded about so mysteriously. But since then I +have wondered whether, had I then showed myself peevish or +obstinate—had I refused to give up my room for the expected +kinswoman—it would not have altered the whole of my life? But +then Lucy or Minnie would have offered in my stead, and been +sacrificed—what do I say?—better that the blow should have fallen +as it did than on those dear ones. + +The chamber to which I removed was a dim little triangular room in +the western wing, and was only to be reached by traversing the +picture-gallery, or by mounting a little flight of stone stairs +which led directly upward from the low-browed arch of a door that +opened into the garden. There was one more room on the same +landing-place, and this was a mere receptacle for broken furniture, +shattered toys, and all the lumber that WILL accumulate in a +country-house. The room I was to inhabit for a few nights was a +tapestry-hung apartment, with faded green curtains of some costly +stuff, contrasting oddly with a new carpet and the bright, fresh +hangings of the bed, which had been hurriedly erected. The +furniture was half old, half new; and on the dressing-table stood a +very quaint oval mirror, in a frame of black wood—unpolished +ebony, I think. I can remember the very pattern of the carpet, the +number of chairs, the situation of the bed, the figures on the +tapestry. Nay, I can recollect not only the color of the dress I +wore on that fated evening, but the arrangement of every scrap of +lace and ribbon, of every flower, every jewel, with a memory but +too perfect. + +Scarcely had my maid finished spreading out my various articles of +attire for the evening (when there was to be a great dinner-party) +when the rumble of a carriage announced that Lady Speldhurst had +arrived. The short winter’s day drew to a close, and a large +number of guests were gathered together in the ample drawing-room, +around the blaze of the wood-fire, after dinner. My father, I +recollect, was not with us at first. There were some squires of +the old, hard-riding, hard-drinking stamp still lingering over +their port in the dining-room, and the host, of course, could not +leave them. But the ladies and all the younger gentlemen—both +those who slept under our roof, and those who would have a dozen +miles of fog and mire to encounter on their road home—were all +together. Need I say that Reginald was there? He sat near me—my +accepted lover, my plighted future husband. We were to be married +in the spring. My sisters were not far off; they, too, had found +eyes that sparkled and softened in meeting theirs, had found hearts +that beat responsive to their own. And, in their cases, no rude +frost nipped the blossom ere it became the fruit; there was no +canker in their flowerets of young hope, no cloud in their sky. +Innocent and loving, they were beloved by men worthy of their +esteem. + +The room—a large and lofty one, with an arched roof—had somewhat +of a somber character, from being wainscoted and ceiled with +polished black oak of a great age. There were mirrors, and there +were pictures on the walls, and handsome furniture, and marble +chimney-pieces, and a gay Tournay carpet; but these merely appeared +as bright spots on the dark background of the Elizabethan woodwork. +Many lights were burning, but the blackness of the walls and roof +seemed absolutely to swallow up their rays, like the mouth of a +cavern. A hundred candles could not have given that apartment the +cheerful lightness of a modern drawing room. But the gloomy +richness of the panels matched well with the ruddy gleam from the +enormous wood-fire, in which, crackling and glowing, now lay the +mighty Yule log. Quite a blood-red luster poured forth from the +fire, and quivered on the walls and the groined roof. We had +gathered round the vast antique hearth in a wide circle. The +quivering light of the fire and candles fell upon us all, but not +equally, for some were in shadow. I remember still how tall and +manly and handsome Reginald looked that night, taller by the head +than any there, and full of high spirits and gayety. I, too, was +in the highest spirits; never had my bosom felt lighter, and I +believe it was my mirth that gradually gained the rest, for I +recollect what a blithe, joyous company we seemed. All save one. +Lady Speldhurst, dressed in gray silk and wearing a quaint head- +dress, sat in her armchair, facing the fire, very silent, with her +hands and her sharp chin propped on a sort of ivory-handled crutch +that she walked with (for she was lame), peering at me with half- +shut eyes. She was a little, spare old woman, with very keen, +delicate features of the French type. Her gray silk dress, her +spotless lace, old-fashioned jewels, and prim neatness of array, +were well suited to the intelligence of her face, with its thin +lips, and eyes of a piercing black, undimmed by age. Those eyes +made me uncomfortable, in spite of my gayety, as they followed my +every movement with curious scrutiny. Still I was very merry and +gay; my sisters even wondered at my ever-ready mirth, which was +almost wild in its excess. I have heard since then of the Scottish +belief that those doomed to some great calamity become fey, and are +never so disposed for merriment and laughter as just before the +blow falls. If ever mortal was fey, then I was so on that evening. +Still, though I strove to shake it off, the pertinacious +observation of old Lady Speldhurst’s eyes DID make an impression on +me of a vaguely disagreeable nature. Others, too, noticed her +scrutiny of me, but set it down as a mere eccentricity of a person +always reputed whimsical, to say the least of it. + +However, this disagreeable sensation lasted but a few moments. +After a short pause my aunt took her part in the conversation, and +we found ourselves listening to a weird legend, which the old lady +told exceedingly well. One tale led to another. Everyone was +called on in turn to contribute to the public entertainment, and +story after story, always relating to demonology and witchcraft, +succeeded. It was Christmas, the season for such tales; and the +old room, with its dusky walls and pictures, and vaulted roof, +drinking up the light so greedily, seemed just fitted to give +effect to such legendary lore. The huge logs crackled and burned +with glowing warmth; the blood-red glare of the Yule log flashed on +the faces of the listeners and narrator, on the portraits, and the +holly wreathed about their frames, and the upright old dame, in her +antiquated dress and trinkets, like one of the originals of the +pictures, stepped from the canvas to join our circle. It threw a +shimmering luster of an ominously ruddy hue upon the oaken panels. +No wonder that the ghost and goblin stories had a new zest. No +wonder that the blood of the more timid grew chill and curdled, +that their flesh crept, that their hearts beat irregularly, and the +girls peeped fearfully over their shoulders, and huddled close +together like frightened sheep, and half fancied they beheld some +impish and malignant face gibbering at them from the darkling +corners of the old room. By degrees my high spirits died out, and +I felt the childish tremors, long latent, long forgotten, coming +over me. I followed each story with painful interest; I did not +ask myself if I believed the dismal tales. I listened, and fear +grew upon me—the blind, irrational fear of our nursery days. I am +sure most of the other ladies present, young or middle-aged, were +affected by the circumstances under which these traditions were +heard, no less than by the wild and fantastic character of them. +But with them the impression would die out next morning, when the +bright sun should shine on the frosted boughs, and the rime on the +grass, and the scarlet berries and green spikelets of the holly; +and with me—but, ah! what was to happen ere another day dawn? +Before we had made an end of this talk my father and the other +squires came in, and we ceased our ghost stories, ashamed to speak +of such matters before these new-comers—hard-headed, unimaginative +men, who had no sympathy with idle legends. There was now a stir +and bustle. + +Servants were handing round tea and coffee, and other refreshments. +Then there was a little music and singing. I sang a duet with +Reginald, who had a fine voice and good musical skill. I remember +that my singing was much praised, and indeed I was surprised at the +power and pathos of my own voice, doubtless due to my excited +nerves and mind. Then I heard someone say to another that I was by +far the cleverest of the Squire’s daughters, as well as the +prettiest. It did not make me vain. I had no rivalry with Lucy +and Minnie. But Reginald whispered some soft, fond words in my ear +a little before he mounted his horse to set off homeward, which DID +make me happy and proud. And to think that the next time we met— +but I forgave him long ago. Poor Reginald! And now shawls and +cloaks were in request, and carriages rolled up to the porch, and +the guests gradually departed. At last no one was left but those +visitors staying in the house. Then my father, who had been called +out to speak with the bailiff of the estate, came back with a look +of annoyance on his face. + +“A strange story I have just been told,” said he; “here has been my +bailiff to inform me of the loss of four of the choicest ewes out +of that little flock of Southdowns I set such store by, and which +arrived in the north but two months since. And the poor creatures +have been destroyed in so strange a manner, for their carcasses are +horribly mangled.” + +Most of us uttered some expression of pity or surprise, and some +suggested that a vicious dog was probably the culprit. + +“It would seem so,” said my father; “it certainly seems the work of +a dog; and yet all the men agree that no dog of such habits exists +near us, where, indeed, dogs are scarce, excepting the shepherds’ +collies and the sporting dogs secured in yards. Yet the sheep are +gnawed and bitten, for they show the marks of teeth. Something has +done this, and has torn their bodies wolfishly; but apparently it +has been only to suck the blood, for little or no flesh is gone.” + +“How strange!” cried several voices. Then some of the gentlemen +remembered to have heard of cases when dogs addicted to sheep- +killing had destroyed whole flocks, as if in sheer wantonness, +scarcely deigning to taste a morsel of each slain wether. + +My father shook his head. “I have heard of such cases, too,” he +said; “but in this instance I am tempted to think the malice of +some unknown enemy has been at work. The teeth of a dog have been +busy, no doubt, but the poor sheep have been mutilated in a +fantastic manner, as strange as horrible; their hearts, in +especial, have been torn out, and left at some paces off, half- +gnawed. Also, the men persist that they found the print of a naked +human foot in the soft mud of the ditch, and near it—this.” And +he held up what seemed a broken link of a rusted iron chain. + +Many were the ejaculations of wonder and alarm, and many and shrewd +the conjectures, but none seemed exactly to suit the bearings of +the case. And when my father went on to say that two lambs of the +same valuable breed had perished in the same singular manner three +days previously, and that they also were found mangled and gore- +stained, the amazement reached a higher pitch. Old Lady Speldhurst +listened with calm, intelligent attention, but joined in none of +our exclamations. At length she said to my father, “Try and +recollect—have you no enemy among your neighbors?” My father +started, and knit his brows. “Not one that I know of,” he replied; +and indeed he was a popular man and a kind landlord. “The more +lucky you,” said the old dame, with one of her grim smiles. It was +now late, and we retired to rest before long. One by one the +guests dropped off. I was the member of the family selected to +escort old Lady Speldhurst to her room—the room I had vacated in +her favor. I did not much like the office. I felt a remarkable +repugnance to my godmother, but my worthy aunts insisted so much +that I should ingratiate myself with one who had so much to leave +that I could not but comply. The visitor hobbled up the broad +oaken stairs actively enough, propped on my arm and her ivory +crutch. The room never had looked more genial and pretty, with its +brisk fire, modern furniture, and the gay French paper on the +walls. “A nice room, my dear, and I ought to be much obliged to +you for it, since my maid tells me it is yours,” said her ladyship; +“but I am pretty sure you repent your generosity to me, after all +those ghost stories, and tremble to think of a strange bed and +chamber, eh?” I made some commonplace reply. The old lady arched +her eyebrows. “Where have they put you, child?” she asked; “in +some cock-loft of the turrets, eh? or in a lumber-room—a regular +ghost-trap? I can hear your heart beating with fear this moment. +You are not fit to be alone.” I tried to call up my pride, and +laugh off the accusation against my courage, all the more, perhaps, +because I felt its truth. “Do you want anything more that I can +get you, Lady Speldhurst?” I asked, trying to feign a yawn of +sleepiness. The old dame’s keen eyes were upon me. “I rather like +you, my dear,” she said, “and I liked your mamma well enough before +she treated me so shamefully about the christening dinner. Now, I +know you are frightened and fearful, and if an owl should but flap +your window to-night, it might drive you into fits. There is a +nice little sofa-bed in this dressing closet—call your maid to +arrange it for you, and you can sleep there snugly, under the old +witch’s protection, and then no goblin dare harm you, and nobody +will be a bit the wiser, or quiz you for being afraid.” How little +I knew what hung in the balance of my refusal or acceptance of that +trivial proffer! Had the veil of the future been lifted for one +instant! but that veil is impenetrable to our gaze. + +I left her door. As I crossed the landing a bright gleam came from +another room, whose door was left ajar; it (the light) fell like a +bar of golden sheen across my path. As I approached the door +opened and my sister Lucy, who had been watching for me, came out. +She was already in a white cashmere wrapper, over which her +loosened hair hung darkly and heavily, like tangles of silk. +“Rosa, love,” she whispered, “Minnie and I can’t bear the idea of +your sleeping out there, all alone, in that solitary room—the very +room too Nurse Sherrard used to talk about! So, as you know Minnie +has given up her room, and come to sleep in mine, still we should +so wish you to stop with us to-night at any rate, and I could make +up a bed on the sofa for myself or you—and—” I stopped Lucy’s +mouth with a kiss. I declined her offer. I would not listen to +it. In fact, my pride was up in arms, and I felt I would rather +pass the night in the churchyard itself than accept a proposal +dictated, I felt sure, by the notion that my nerves were shaken by +the ghostly lore we had been raking up, that I was a weak, +superstitious creature, unable to pass a night in a strange +chamber. So I would not listen to Lucy, but kissed her, bade her +good-night, and went on my way laughing, to show my light heart. +Yet, as I looked back in the dark corridor, and saw the friendly +door still ajar, the yellow bar of light still crossing from wall +to wall, the sweet, kind face still peering after me from amidst +its clustering curls, I felt a thrill of sympathy, a wish to +return, a yearning after human love and companionship. False shame +was strongest, and conquered. I waved a gay adieu. I turned the +corner, and peeping over my shoulder, I saw the door close; the bar +of yellow light was there no longer in the darkness of the passage. +I thought at that instant that I heard a heavy sigh. I looked +sharply round. No one was there. No door was open, yet I fancied, +and fancied with a wonderful vividness, that I did hear an actual +sigh breathed not far off, and plainly distinguishable from the +groan of the sycamore branches as the wind tossed them to and fro +in the outer blackness. If ever a mortal’s good angel had cause to +sigh for sorrow, not sin, mine had cause to mourn that night. But +imagination plays us strange tricks and my nervous system was not +over-composed or very fitted for judicial analysis. I had to go +through the picture-gallery. I had never entered this apartment by +candle-light before and I was struck by the gloomy array of the +tall portraits, gazing moodily from the canvas on the lozenge-paned +or painted windows, which rattled to the blast as it swept howling +by. Many of the faces looked stern, and very different from their +daylight expression. In others a furtive, flickering smile seemed +to mock me as my candle illumined them; and in all, the eyes, as +usual with artistic portraits, seemed to follow my motions with a +scrutiny and an interest the more marked for the apathetic +immovability of the other features. I felt ill at ease under this +stony gaze, though conscious how absurd were my apprehensions; and +I called up a smile and an air of mirth, more as if acting a part +under the eyes of human beings than of their mere shadows on the +wall. I even laughed as I confronted them. No echo had my short- +lived laughter but from the hollow armor and arching roof, and I +continued on my way in silence. + +By a sudden and not uncommon revulsion of feeling I shook off my +aimless terrors, blushed at my weakness, and sought my chamber only +too glad that I had been the only witness of my late tremors. As I +entered my chamber I thought I heard something stir in the +neglected lumber-room, which was the only neighboring apartment. +But I was determined to have no more panics, and resolutely shut my +eyes to this slight and transient noise, which had nothing +unnatural in it; for surely, between rats and wind, an old manor- +house on a stormy night needs no sprites to disturb it. So I +entered my room, and rang for my maid. As I did so I looked around +me, and a most unaccountable repugnance to my temporary abode came +over me, in spite of my efforts. It was no more to be shaken off +than a chill is to be shaken off when we enter some damp cave. +And, rely upon it, the feeling of dislike and apprehension with +which we regard, at first sight, certain places and people, was not +implanted in us without some wholesome purpose. I grant it is +irrational—mere animal instinct—but is not instinct God’s gift, +and is it for us to despise it? It is by instinct that children +know their friends from their enemies—that they distinguish with +such unerring accuracy between those who like them and those who +only flatter and hate them. Dogs do the same; they will fawn on +one person, they slink snarling from another. Show me a man whom +children and dogs shrink from, and I will show you a false, bad +man—lies on his lips, and murder at his heart. No; let none +despise the heaven-sent gift of innate antipathy, which makes the +horse quail when the lion crouches in the thicket—which makes the +cattle scent the shambles from afar, and low in terror and disgust +as their nostrils snuff the blood-polluted air. I felt this +antipathy strongly as I looked around me in my new sleeping-room, +and yet I could find no reasonable pretext for my dislike. A very +good room it was, after all, now that the green damask curtains +were drawn, the fire burning bright and clear, candles burning on +the mantel-piece, and the various familiar articles of toilet +arranged as usual. The bed, too, looked peaceful and inviting—a +pretty little white bed, not at all the gaunt funereal sort of +couch which haunted apartments generally contain. + +My maid entered, and assisted me to lay aside the dress and +ornaments I had worn, and arranged my hair, as usual, prattling the +while, in Abigail fashion. I seldom cared to converse with +servants; but on that night a sort of dread of being left alone—a +longing to keep some human being near me possessed me—and I +encouraged the girl to gossip, so that her duties took her half an +hour longer to get through than usual. At last, however, she had +done all that could be done, and all my questions were answered, +and my orders for the morrow reiterated and vowed obedience to, and +the clock on the turret struck one. Then Mary, yawning a little, +asked if I wanted anything more, and I was obliged to answer no, +for very shame’s sake; and she went. The shutting of the door, +gently as it was closed, affected me unpleasantly. I took a +dislike to the curtains, the tapestry, the dingy pictures— +everything. I hated the room. I felt a temptation to put on a +cloak, run, half-dressed, to my sisters’ chamber, and say I had +changed my mind and come for shelter. But they must be asleep, I +thought, and I could not be so unkind as to wake them. I said my +prayers with unusual earnestness and a heavy heart. I extinguished +the candles, and was just about to lay my head on my pillow, when +the idea seized me that I would fasten the door. The candles were +extinguished, but the firelight was amply sufficient to guide me. +I gained the door. There was a lock, but it was rusty or hampered; +my utmost strength could not turn the key. The bolt was broken and +worthless. Balked of my intention, I consoled myself by +remembering that I had never had need of fastenings yet, and +returned to my bed. I lay awake for a good while, watching the red +glow of the burning coals in the grate. I was quiet now, and more +composed. Even the light gossip of the maid, full of petty human +cares and joys, had done me good—diverted my thoughts from +brooding. I was on the point of dropping asleep, when I was twice +disturbed. Once, by an owl, hooting in the ivy outside—no +unaccustomed sound, but harsh and melancholy; once, by a long and +mournful howling set up by the mastiff, chained in the yard beyond +the wing I occupied. A long-drawn, lugubrious howling was this +latter, and much such a note as the vulgar declare to herald a +death in the family. This was a fancy I had never shared; but yet +I could not help feeling that the dog’s mournful moans were sad, +and expressive of terror, not at all like his fierce, honest bark +of anger, but rather as if something evil and unwonted were abroad. +But soon I fell asleep. + +How long I slept I never knew. I awoke at once with that abrupt +start which we all know well, and which carries us in a second from +utter unconsciousness to the full use of our faculties. The fire +was still burning, but was very low, and half the room or more was +in deep shadow. I knew, I felt, that some person or thing was in +the room, although nothing unusual was to be seen by the feeble +light. Yet it was a sense of danger that had aroused me from +slumber. I experienced, while yet asleep, the chill and shock of +sudden alarm, and I knew, even in the act of throwing off sleep +like a mantle, WHY I awoke, and that some intruder was present. +Yet, though I listened intently, no sound was audible, except the +faint murmur of the fire—the dropping of a cinder from the bars— +the loud, irregular beatings of my own heart. Notwithstanding this +silence, by some intuition I knew that I had not been deceived by a +dream, and felt certain that I was not alone. I waited. My heart +beat on; quicker, more sudden grew its pulsations, as a bird in a +cage might flutter in presence of the hawk. And then I heard a +sound, faint, but quite distinct, the clank of iron, the rattling +of a chain! I ventured to lift my head from the pillow. Dim and +uncertain as the light was, I saw the curtains of my bed shake, and +caught a glimpse of something beyond, a darker spot in the +darkness. This confirmation of my fears did not surprise me so +much as it shocked me. I strove to cry aloud, but could not utter +a word. The chain rattled again, and this time the noise was +louder and clearer. But though I strained my eyes, they could not +penetrate the obscurity that shrouded the other end of the chamber +whence came the sullen clanking. In a moment several distinct +trains of thought, like many-colored strands of thread twining into +one, became palpable to my mental vision. Was it a robber? Could +it be a supernatural visitant? Or was I the victim of a cruel +trick, such as I had heard of, and which some thoughtless persons +love to practice on the timid, reckless of its dangerous results? +And then a new idea, with some ray of comfort in it, suggested +itself. There was a fine young dog of the Newfoundland breed, a +favorite of my father’s, which was usually chained by night in an +outhouse. Neptune might have broken loose, found his way to my +room, and, finding the door imperfectly closed, have pushed it open +and entered. I breathed more freely as this harmless +interpretation of the noise forced itself upon me. It was—it must +be—the dog, and I was distressing myself uselessly. I resolved to +call to him; I strove to utter his name—“Neptune, Neptune,” but a +secret apprehension restrained me, and I was mute. + +Then the chain clanked nearer and nearer to the bed, and presently +I saw a dusky, shapeless mass appear between the curtains on the +opposite side to where I was lying. How I longed to hear the whine +of the poor animal that I hoped might be the cause of my alarm. +But no; I heard no sound save the rustle of the curtains and the +clash of the iron chains. Just then the dying flame of the fire +leaped up, and with one sweeping, hurried glance I saw that the +door was shut, and, horror! it is not the dog! it is the semblance +of a human form that now throws itself heavily on the bed, outside +the clothes, and lies there, huge and swart, in the red gleam that +treacherously died away after showing so much to affright, and +sinks into dull darkness. There was now no light left, though the +red cinders yet glowed with a ruddy gleam like the eyes of wild +beasts. The chain rattled no more. I tried to speak, to scream +wildly for help; my mouth was parched, my tongue refused to obey. +I could not utter a cry, and, indeed, who could have heard me, +alone as I was in that solitary chamber, with no living neighbor, +and the picture-gallery between me and any aid that even the +loudest, most piercing shriek could summon. And the storm that +howled without would have drowned my voice, even if help had been +at hand. To call aloud—to demand who was there—alas! how +useless, how perilous! If the intruder were a robber, my outcries +would but goad him to fury; but what robber would act thus? As for +a trick, that seemed impossible. And yet, WHAT lay by my side, now +wholly unseen? I strove to pray aloud as there rushed on my memory +a flood of weird legends—the dreaded yet fascinating lore of my +childhood. I had heard and read of the spirits of the wicked men +forced to revisit the scenes of their earthly crimes—of demons +that lurked in certain accursed spots—of the ghoul and vampire of +the east, stealing amidst the graves they rifled for their ghostly +banquets; and then I shuddered as I gazed on the blank darkness +where I knew it lay. It stirred—it moaned hoarsely; and again I +heard the chain clank close beside me—so close that it must almost +have touched me. I drew myself from it, shrinking away in loathing +and terror of the evil thing—what, I knew not, but felt that +something malignant was near. + +And yet, in the extremity of my fear, I dared not speak; I was +strangely cautious to be silent, even in moving farther off; for I +had a wild hope that it—the phantom, the creature, whichever it +was—had not discovered my presence in the room. And then I +remembered all the events of the night—Lady Speldhurst’s ill- +omened vaticinations, her half-warnings, her singular look as we +parted, my sister’s persuasions, my terror in the gallery, the +remark that “this was the room nurse Sherrard used to talk of.” +And then memory, stimulated by fear, recalled the long-forgotten +past, the ill-repute of this disused chamber, the sins it had +witnessed, the blood spilled, the poison administered by unnatural +hate within its walls, and the tradition which called it haunted. +The green room—I remembered now how fearfully the servants avoided +it—how it was mentioned rarely, and in whispers, when we were +children, and how we had regarded it as a mysterious region, unfit +for mortal habitation. Was It—the dark form with the chain—a +creature of this world, or a specter? And again—more dreadful +still—could it be that the corpses of wicked men were forced to +rise and haunt in the body the places where they had wrought their +evil deeds? And was such as these my grisly neighbor? The chain +faintly rattled. My hair bristled; my eyeballs seemed starting +from their sockets; the damps of a great anguish were on my brow. +My heart labored as if I were crushed beneath some vast weight. +Sometimes it appeared to stop its frenzied beatings, sometimes its +pulsations were fierce and hurried; my breath came short and with +extreme difficulty, and I shivered as if with cold; yet I feared to +stir. IT moved, it moaned, its fetters clanked dismally, the couch +creaked and shook. This was no phantom, then—no air-drawn +specter. But its very solidity, its palpable presence, were a +thousand times more terrible. I felt that I was in the very grasp +of what could not only affright but harm; of something whose +contact sickened the soul with deathly fear. I made a desperate +resolve: I glided from the bed, I seized a warm wrapper, threw it +around me, and tried to grope, with extended hands, my way to the +door. My heart beat high at the hope of escape. But I had +scarcely taken one step before the moaning was renewed—it changed +into a threatening growl that would have suited a wolf’s throat, +and a hand clutched at my sleeve. I stood motionless. The +muttering growl sank to a moan again, the chain sounded no more, +but still the hand held its grip of my garment, and I feared to +move. It knew of my presence, then. My brain reeled, the blood +boiled in my ears, and my knees lost all strength, while my heart +panted like that of a deer in the wolf’s jaws. I sank back, and +the benumbing influence of excessive terror reduced me to a state +of stupor. + +When my full consciousness returned I was sitting on the edge of +the bed, shivering with cold, and barefooted. All was silent, but +I felt that my sleeve was still clutched by my unearthly visitant. +The silence lasted a long time. Then followed a chuckling laugh +that froze my very marrow, and the gnashing of teeth as in demoniac +frenzy; and then a wailing moan, and this was succeeded by silence. +Hours may have passed—nay, though the tumult of my own heart +prevented my hearing the clock strike, must have passed—but they +seemed ages to me. And how were they passed? Hideous visions +passed before the aching eyes that I dared not close, but which +gazed ever into the dumb darkness where It lay—my dread companion +through the watches of the night. I pictured It in every abhorrent +form which an excited fancy could summon up: now as a skeleton; +with hollow eye-holes and grinning, fleshless jaws; now as a +vampire, with livid face and bloated form, and dripping mouth wet +with blood. Would it never be light! And yet, when day should +dawn I should be forced to see It face to face. I had heard that +specter and fiend were compelled to fade as morning brightened, but +this creature was too real, too foul a thing of earth, to vanish at +cock-crow. No! I should see it—the Horror—face to face! And +then the cold prevailed, and my teeth chattered, and shiverings ran +through me, and yet there was the damp of agony on my bursting +brow. Some instinct made me snatch at a shawl or cloak that lay on +a chair within reach, and wrap it round me. The moan was renewed, +and the chain just stirred. Then I sank into apathy, like an +Indian at the stake, in the intervals of torture. Hours fled by, +and I remained like a statue of ice, rigid and mute. I even slept, +for I remember that I started to find the cold gray light of an +early winter’s day was on my face, and stealing around the room +from between the heavy curtains of the window. + +Shuddering, but urged by the impulse that rivets the gaze of the +bird upon the snake, I turned to see the Horror of the night. Yes, +it was no fevered dream, no hallucination of sickness, no airy +phantom unable to face the dawn. In the sickly light I saw it +lying on the bed, with its grim head on the pillow. A man? Or a +corpse arisen from its unhallowed grave, and awaiting the demon +that animated it? There it lay—a gaunt, gigantic form, wasted to +a skeleton, half-clad, foul with dust and clotted gore, its huge +limbs flung upon the couch as if at random, its shaggy hair +streaming over the pillows like a lion’s mane. His face was toward +me. Oh, the wild hideousness of that face, even in sleep! In +features it was human, even through its horrid mask of mud and +half-dried bloody gouts, but the expression was brutish and +savagely fierce; the white teeth were visible between the parted +lips, in a malignant grin; the tangled hair and beard were mixed in +leonine confusion, and there were scars disfiguring the brow. +Round the creature’s waist was a ring of iron, to which was +attached a heavy but broken chain—the chain I had heard clanking. +With a second glance I noted that part of the chain was wrapped in +straw to prevent its galling the wearer. The creature—I cannot +call it a man—had the marks of fetters on its wrists, the bony arm +that protruded through one tattered sleeve was scarred and bruised; +the feet were bare, and lacerated by pebbles and briers, and one of +them was wounded, and wrapped in a morsel of rag. And the lean +hands, one of which held my sleeve, were armed with talons like an +eagle’s. In an instant the horrid truth flashed upon me—I was in +the grasp of a madman. Better the phantom that scares the sight +than the wild beast that rends and tears the quivering flesh—the +pitiless human brute that has no heart to be softened, no reason at +whose bar to plead, no compassion, naught of man save the form and +the cunning. I gasped in terror. Ah! the mystery of those +ensanguined fingers, those gory, wolfish jaws! that face, all +besmeared with blackening blood, is revealed! + +The slain sheep, so mangled and rent—the fantastic butchery—the +print of the naked foot—all, all were explained; and the chain, +the broken link of which was found near the slaughtered animals—it +came from his broken chain—the chain he had snapped, doubtless, in +his escape from the asylum where his raging frenzy had been +fettered and bound, in vain! in vain! Ah me! how had this grisly +Samson broken manacles and prison bars—how had he eluded guardian +and keeper and a hostile world, and come hither on his wild way, +hunted like a beast of prey, and snatching his hideous banquet like +a beast of prey, too! Yes, through the tatters of his mean and +ragged garb I could see the marks of the seventies, cruel and +foolish, with which men in that time tried to tame the might of +madness. The scourge—its marks were there; and the scars of the +hard iron fetters, and many a cicatrice and welt, that told a +dismal tale of hard usage. But now he was loose, free to play the +brute—the baited, tortured brute that they had made him—now +without the cage, and ready to gloat over the victims his strength +should overpower. Horror! horror! I was the prey—the victim— +already in the tiger’s clutch; and a deadly sickness came over me, +and the iron entered into my soul, and I longed to scream, and was +dumb! I died a thousand deaths as that morning wore on. I DARED +NOT faint. But words cannot paint what I suffered as I waited— +waited till the moment when he should open his eyes and be aware of +my presence; for I was assured he knew it not. He had entered the +chamber as a lair, when weary and gorged with his horrid orgy; and +he had flung himself down to sleep without a suspicion that he was +not alone. Even his grasping my sleeve was doubtless an act done +betwixt sleeping and waking, like his unconscious moans and +laughter, in some frightful dream. + +Hours went on; then I trembled as I thought that soon the house +would be astir, that my maid would come to call me as usual, and +awake that ghastly sleeper. And might he not have time to tear me, +as he tore the sheep, before any aid could arrive? At last what I +dreaded came to pass—a light footstep on the landing—there is a +tap at the door. A pause succeeds, and then the tapping is +renewed, and this time more loudly. Then the madman stretched his +limbs, and uttered his moaning cry, and his eyes slowly opened— +very slowly opened and met mine. The girl waited a while ere she +knocked for the third time. I trembled lest she should open the +door unbidden—see that grim thing, and bring about the worst. + +I saw the wondering surprise in his haggard, bloodshot eyes; I saw +him stare at me half vacantly, then with a crafty yet wondering +look; and then I saw the devil of murder begin to peep forth from +those hideous eyes, and the lips to part as in a sneer, and the +wolfish teeth to bare themselves. But I was not what I had been. +Fear gave me a new and a desperate composure—a courage foreign to +my nature. I had heard of the best method of managing the insane; +I could but try; I DID try. Calmly, wondering at my own feigned +calm, I fronted the glare of those terrible eyes. Steady and +undaunted was my gaze—motionless my attitude. I marveled at +myself, but in that agony of sickening terror I was OUTWARDLY firm. +They sink, they quail, abashed, those dreadful eyes, before the +gaze of a helpless girl; and the shame that is never absent from +insanity bears down the pride of strength, the bloody cravings of +the wild beast. The lunatic moaned and drooped his shaggy head +between his gaunt, squalid hands. + +I lost not an instant. I rose, and with one spring reached the +door, tore it open, and, with a shriek, rushed through, caught the +wondering girl by the arm, and crying to her to run for her life, +rushed like the wind along the gallery, down the corridor, down the +stairs. Mary’s screams filled the house as she fled beside me. I +heard a long-drawn, raging cry, the roar of a wild animal mocked of +its prey, and I knew what was behind me. I never turned my head—I +flew rather than ran. I was in the hall already; there was a rush +of many feet, an outcry of many voices, a sound of scuffling feet, +and brutal yells, and oaths, and heavy blows, and I fell to the +ground crying, “Save me!” and lay in a swoon. I awoke from a +delirious trance. Kind faces were around my bed, loving looks were +bent on me by all, by my dear father and dear sisters; but I +scarcely saw them before I swooned again. + +When I recovered from that long illness, through which I had been +nursed so tenderly, the pitying looks I met made me tremble. I +asked for a looking-glass. It was long denied me, but my +importunity prevailed at last—a mirror was brought. My youth was +gone at one fell swoop. The glass showed me a livid and haggard +face, blanched and bloodless as of one who sees a specter; and in +the ashen lips, and wrinkled brow, and dim eyes, I could trace +nothing of my old self. The hair, too, jetty and rich before, was +now as white as snow; and in one night the ravages of half a +century had passed over my face. Nor have my nerves ever recovered +their tone after that dire shock. Can you wonder that my life was +blighted, that my lover shrank from me, so sad a wreck was I? + +I am old now—old and alone. My sisters would have had me to live +with them, but I chose not to sadden their genial homes with my +phantom face and dead eyes. Reginald married another. He has been +dead many years. I never ceased to pray for him, though he left me +when I was bereft of all. The sad weird is nearly over now. I am +old, and near the end, and wishful for it. I have not been bitter +or hard, but I cannot bear to see many people, and am best alone. +I try to do what good I can with the worthless wealth Lady +Speldhurst left me, for, at my wish, my portion was shared between +my sisters. 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POST (1871-) +The Corpus Delicti + + +AMBROSE BIERCE (1842-) +An Heiress from Redhorse +The Man and the Snake + + +EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809-49) +The Oblong Box +The Gold-Bug + + +WASHINGTON IRVING (1783-1859) +Wolfert Webber, or Golden Dreams +Adventure of the Black Fisherman + + +CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN (1771-1810) +Wieland's Madness + + +FITZJAMES O'BRIEN (1828-1862) +The Golden Ingot +My Wife's Tempter + + +NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (1804-1864) +The Minister's Black Veil + + +ANONYMOUS +Horror: A True Tale + + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Stories by Modern American Authors +******This file should be named 2043.txt or 2043.zip****** + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. 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Brown also +available from Project Gutenberg [welndxxx.xxx]. Finally The +Minister's Black Veil can also be read in From Twice Told Tales, +by Nathaniel Hawthorne [2talexxx.xxx]. + + + + + +THE LOCK AND KEY LIBRARY + +THE MOST INTERESTING STORIES OF ALL NATIONS + +Edited by Julian Hawthorne + + +AMERICAN + + + +Table of Contents + + +INTRODUCTION BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE + +"Riddle Stories" + + +F. MARION CRAWFORD (1854-) +By the Waters of Paradise + + +MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN (1862-) +The Shadows on the Wall + + +MELVILLE D. POST (1871-) +The Corpus Delicti + + +AMBROSE BIERCE (1842-) +An Heiress from Redhorse +The Man and the Snake + + +EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809-49) +The Oblong Box +The Gold-Bug + + +WASHINGTON IRVING (1783-1859) +Wolfert Webber, or Golden Dreams +Adventure of the Black Fisherman + + +CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN (1771-1810) +Wieland's Madness + + +FITZJAMES O'BRIEN (1828-1862) +The Golden Ingot +My Wife's Tempter + + +NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (1804-1864) +The Minister's Black Veil + + +ANONYMOUS +Horror: A True Tale + + + +"Riddle Stories" + +Introduction by Julian Hawthorne + + +When Poe wrote his immortal Dupin tales, the name "Detective" +stories had not been invented; the detective of fiction not having +been as yet discovered. And the title is still something of a +misnomer, for many narratives involving a puzzle of some sort, +though belonging to the category which I wish to discuss, are +handled by the writer without expert detective aid. Sometimes the +puzzle solves itself through operation of circumstance; sometimes +somebody who professes no special detective skill happens upon the +secret of its mystery; once in a while some venturesome genius has +the courage to leave his enigma unexplained. But ever since +Gaboriau created his Lecoq, the transcendent detective has been in +favor; and Conan Doyle's famous gentleman analyst has given him a +fresh lease of life, and reanimated the stage by reverting to the +method of Poe. Sherlock Holmes is Dupin redivivus, and mutatus +mutandis; personally he is a more stirring and engaging companion, +but so far as kinship to probabilities or even possibilities is +concerned, perhaps the older version of him is the more +presentable. But in this age of marvels we seem less difficult to +suit in this respect than our forefathers were. + +The fact is, meanwhile, that, in the riddle story, the detective +was an afterthought, or, more accurately, a deus ex machina to make +the story go. The riddle had to be unriddled; and who could do it +so naturally and readily as a detective? The detective, as Poe saw +him, was a means to this end; and it was only afterwards that +writers perceived his availability as a character. Lecoq +accordingly becomes a figure in fiction, and Sherlock, while he was +as yet a novelty, was nearly as attractive as the complications in +which he involved himself. Riddle-story writers in general, +however, encounter the obvious embarrassment that their detective +is obliged to lavish so much attention on the professional services +which the exigencies of the tale demand of him, that he has very +little leisure to expound his own personal equation--the rather +since the attitude of peering into a millstone is not, of itself, +conducive to elucidations of oneself; the professional endowment +obscures all the others. We ordinarily find, therefore, our author +dismissing the individuality of his detective with a few strong +black-chalk outlines, and devoting his main labor upon what he +feels the reader will chiefly occupy his own ingenuity with,-- +namely, the elaboration of the riddle itself. Reader and writer +sit down to a game, as it were, with the odds, of course, +altogether on the latter's side,--apart from the fact that a writer +sometimes permits himself a little cheating. It more often happens +that the detective appears to be in the writer's pay, and aids the +deception by leading the reader off on false scents. Be that as it +may, the professional sleuth is in nine cases out of ten a dummy by +malice prepense; and it might be plausibly argued that, in the +interests of pure art, that is what he ought to be. But genius +always finds a way that is better than the rules, and I think it +will be found that the very best riddle stories contrive to drive +character and riddle side by side, and to make each somehow enhance +the effect of the other.--The intention of the above paragraph will +be more precisely conveyed if I include under the name of detective +not only the man from the central office, but also anybody whom the +writer may, for ends of his own, consider better qualified for that +function. The latter is a professional detective so far as the +exigencies of the tale are concerned, and what becomes of him after +that nobody need care,--there is no longer anything to prevent his +becoming, in his own right, the most fascinating of mankind. + +But in addition to the dummyship of the detective, or to the cases +in which the mere slip of circumstance takes his place, there is +another reason against narrowing our conception of the riddle story +to the degree which the alternative appellation would imply. And +that is, that it would exclude not a few of the most captivating +riddle stories in existence; for in De Quincey's "Avenger," for +example, the interest is not in the unraveling of the web, but in +the weaving of it. The same remark applies to Bulwer's "Strange +Story"; it is the strangeness that is the thing. There is, in +short, an inalienable charm in the mere contemplation of mystery +and the hazard of fortunes; and it would be a pity to shut them out +from our consideration only because there is no second-sighted +conjurer on hand to turn them into plain matter of fact. + +Yet we must not be too liberal; and a ghost story can be brought +into our charmed and charming circle only if we have made up our +minds to believe in the ghosts; otherwise their introduction would +not be a square deal. It would not be fair, in other words, to +propose a conundrum on a basis of ostensible materialism, and then, +when no other key would fit, to palm off a disembodied spirit on +us. Tell me beforehand that your scenario is to include both +worlds, and I have no objection to make; I simply attune my mind to +the more extensive scope. But I rebel at an unheralded ghostland, +and declare frankly that your tale is incredible. And I must +confess that I would as lief have ghosts kept out altogether; their +stories make a very good library in themselves, and have no need to +tag themselves on to what is really another department of fiction. +Nevertheless, when a ghost story is told with the consummate art of +a Miss Wilkins, and of one or two others on our list, consistency +in this regard ceases to be a jewel; art proves irresistible. As +for adventure stories, there is a fringe of them that comes under +the riddle-story head; but for the most part the riddle story +begins after the adventures have finished. We are to contemplate a +condition, not to watch the events that ultimate in it. Our +detective, or anyone else, may of course meet with haps and mishaps +on his way to the solution of his puzzle; but an astute writer will +not color such incidents too vividly, lest he risk forfeiting our +preoccupation with the problem that we came forth for to study. In +a word, One thing at a time! + +The foregoing disquisition may seem uncalled for by such rigid +moralists as have made up their minds not to regard detective, or +riddle stories, as any part of respectable literature at all. With +that sect, I announce at the outset that I am entirely out of +sympathy. It is not needed to compare "The Gold Bug" with +"Paradise Lost"; nobody denies the superior literary stature of the +latter, although, as the Oxford Senior Wrangler objected, "What +does it prove?" But I appeal to Emerson, who, in his poem of "The +Mountain and the Squirrel," states the nub of the argument, with +incomparable felicity, as follows:--you will recall that the two +protagonists had a difference, originating in the fact that the +former called the latter "Little Prig." Bun made a very sprightly +retort, summing up to this effect:-- + + + "Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; + If I cannot carry forests on my back, + Neither can you crack a nut." + + +Andes and Paradises Lost are expedient and perhaps necessary in +their proper atmosphere and function; but Squirrels and Gold Bugs +are indispensable in our daily walk. There is as fine and as true +literature in Poe's Tales as in Milton's epics; only the elevation +and dimensions differ. But I would rather live in a world that +possessed only literature of the Poe caliber, than shiver in one +echoing solely the strains of the Miltonian muse. Mere human +beings are not constructed to stand all day a-tiptoe on the misty +mountain tops; they like to walk the streets most of the time and +sit in easy chairs. And writings that picture the human mind and +nature, in true colors and in artistic proportions, are literature, +and nobody has any business to pooh-pooh them. In fact, I feel as +if I were knocking down a man of straw. I look in vain for any +genuine resistance. Of course "The Gold Bug" is literature; of +course any other story of mystery and puzzle is also literature, +provided it is as good as "The Gold Bug,"--or I will say, since +that standard has never since been quite attained, provided it is a +half or a tenth as good. It is goldsmith's work; it is Chinese +carving; it is Daedalian; it is fine. It is the product of the +ingenuity lobe of the human brain working and expatiating in +freedom. It is art; not spiritual or transcendental art, but solid +art, to be felt and experienced. You may examine it at your +leisure, it will be always ready for you; you need not fast or +watch your arms overnight in order to understand it. Look at the +nice setting of the mortises; mark how the cover fits; how smooth +is the working of that spring drawer. Observe that this bit of +carving, which seemed mere ornament, is really a vital part of the +mechanism. Note, moreover, how balanced and symmetrical the whole +design is, with what economy and foresight every part is fashioned. +It is not only an ingenious structure, it is a handsome bit of +furniture, and will materially improve the looks of the empty +chambers, or disorderly or ungainly chambers that you carry under +your crown. Or if it happen that these apartments are noble in +decoration and proportions, then this captivating little object +will find a suitable place in some spare nook or other, and will +rest or entertain eyes too long focused on the severely sublime and +beautiful. I need not, however, rely upon abstract argument to +support my contention. Many of the best writers of all time have +used their skill in the inverted form of story telling, as a glance +at our table of contents will show; and many of their tales depend +for their effect as much on character and atmosphere as on the play +and complication of events. + +The statement that a good detective or riddle story is good in art +is supported by the fact that the supply of really good ones is +relatively small, while the number of writers who would write good +ones if they could, and who have tried and failed to write them, is +past computation. And one reason probably is that such stories, +for their success, must depend primarily upon structure--a sound +and perfect plot--which is one of the rare things in our +contemporary fiction. Our writers get hold of an incident, or a +sentiment, or a character, or a moral principle, or a hit of +technical knowledge, or a splotch of local color, or even of a new +version of dialect, and they will do something in two to ten +thousand words out of that and call it a short story. Magazines +may be found to print it--for there are all manner of magazines; +but nothing of that sort will serve for a riddle story. You cannot +make a riddle story by beginning it and then trusting to luck to +bring it to an end. You must know all about the end and the middle +before thinking, even, of the beginning; the beginning of a riddle +story, unlike those of other stories and of other enterprises, is +not half the battle; it is next to being quite unimportant, and, +moreover, it is always easy. The unexplained corpse lies weltering +in its gore in the first paragraph; the inexplicable cipher +presents its enigma at the turning of the opening page. The writer +who is secure in the knowledge that he has got a good thing coming, +and has arranged the manner and details of its coming, cannot go +far wrong with his exordium; he wants to get into action at once, +and that is his best assurance that he will do it in the right way. +But O! what a labor and sweat it is; what a planning and trimming; +what a remodeling, curtailing, interlining; what despairs succeeded +by new lights, what heroic expedients tried at the last moment, and +dismissed the moment after; what wastepaper baskets full of +futilities, and what gallant commencements all over again! Did the +reader know, or remotely suspect, what terrific struggles the +writer of a really good detective story had sustained, he would +regard the final product with a new wonder and respect, and read it +all over once more to find out how the troubles occurred. But he +will search in vain; there are no signs of them left; no, not so +much as a scar. The tale moves along as smoothly and inevitably as +oiled machinery; obviously, it could not have been arranged +otherwise than it is; and the wise reader is convinced that he +could have done the thing himself without half trying. At that, +the weary writer smiles a bitter smile; but it is one of the spurns +that patient merit of the unworthy takes. Nobody, except him who +has tried it, will ever know how hard it is to write a really good +detective story. The man or woman who can do it can also write a +good play (according to modern ideas of plays), and possesses force +of character, individuality, and mental ability. He or she must +combine the intuition of the artist with the talent of the master +mechanic, but will seldom be a poet, and will generally care more +for things and events than for fellow creatures. For, although the +story is often concerned with righting some wrong, or avenging some +murder, yet it must be confessed that the author commonly succeeds +better in the measure of his ruthlessness in devising crimes and +giving his portraits of devils an extra touch of black. Mercy is +not his strong point, however he may abound in justice; and he will +not stickle at piling up the agony, if thereby he provides +opportunity for enhancing the picturesqueness and completeness of +the evil doer's due. + +But this leads me to the admission that one charge, at least, does +lie against the door of the riddle-story writer; and that is, that +he is not sincere; he makes his mysteries backward, and knows the +answer to his riddle before he states its terms. He deliberately +supplies his reader, also, with all manner of false scents, well +knowing them to be such; and concocts various seeming artless and +innocent remarks and allusions, which in reality are diabolically +artful, and would deceive the very elect. All this, I say, must be +conceded; but it is not unfair; the very object, ostensibly, of the +riddle story is to prompt you to sharpen your wits; and as you are +yourself the real detective in the case, so you must regard your +author as the real criminal whom you are to detect. Credit no +statement of his save as supported by the clearest evidence; be +continually repeating to yourself, "Timeo Danaos et dona +ferentes,"--nay, never so much as then. But, as I said before, +when the game is well set, you have no chance whatever against the +dealer; and for my own part, I never try to be clever when I go up +against these thimble-riggers; I believe all they tell me, and +accept the most insolent gold bricks; and in that way I +occasionally catch some of the very ablest of them napping; for +they are so subtle that they will sometimes tell you the truth +because they think you will suppose it to be a lie. I do not wish +to catch them napping, however; I cling to the wisdom of ignorance, +and childishly enjoy the way in which things work themselves out-- +the cul-de-sac resolving itself at the very last moment into a +promising corridor toward the outer air. At every rebuff it is my +happiness to be hopelessly bewildered; and I gape with admiration +when the Gordian knot is untied. If the author be old-fashioned +enough to apostrophize the Gentle Reader, I know he must mean me, +and docilely give ear, and presently tumble head-foremost into the +treacherous pit he has digged for me. In brief, I am there to be +sold, and I get my money's worth. No one can thoroughly enjoy +riddle stories unless he is old enough, or young enough, or, at any +rate, wise enough to appreciate the value of the faculty of being +surprised. Those sardonic and omniscient persons who know +everything beforehand, and smile compassionately or scornfully at +the artless outcries of astonishment of those who are uninformed, +may get an ill-natured satisfaction out of the persuasion that they +are superior beings; but there is very little meat in that sort of +happiness, and the uninformed have the better lot after all. + +I need hardly point out that there is a distinction and a +difference between short riddle stories and long ones--novels. The +former require far more technical art for their proper development; +the enigma cannot be posed in so many ways, but must be stated once +for all; there cannot be false scents, or but a few of them; there +can be small opportunity for character drawing, and all kinds of +ornament and comment must be reduced to their very lowest terms. +Here, indeed, as everywhere, genius will have its way; and while a +merely talented writer would deem it impossible to tell the story +of "The Gold Bug" in less than a volume, Poe could do it in a few +thousand words, and yet appear to have said everything worth +saying. In the case of the Sherlock Holmes tales, they form a +series, and our previous knowledge of the hero enables the writer +to dispense with much description and accompaniment that would be +necessary had that eminent personage been presented in only a +single complication of events. Each special episode of the great +analyst's career can therefore be handled with the utmost economy, +and yet fill all the requirements of intelligent interest and +comprehension. But, as a rule, the riddle novel approaches its +theme in a spirit essentially other than that which inspires the +short tale. We are given, as it were, a wide landscape instead of +a detailed genre picture. The number of the dramatis personae is +much larger, and the parts given to many of them may be very small, +though each should have his or her necessary function in the +general plan. It is much easier to create perplexity on these +terms; but on the other hand, the riddle novel demands a power of +vivid character portrayal and of telling description which are not +indispensable in the briefer narrative. A famous tale, published +perhaps forty years ago, but which cannot be included in our +series, tells the story of a murder the secret of which is +admirably concealed till the last; and much of the fascination of +the book is due to the ability with which the leading character, +and some of the subordinate ones, are drawn. The author was a +woman, and I have often marveled that women so seldom attempt this +form of literature; many of them possess a good constructive +faculty, and their love of detail and of mystery is notorious. +Perhaps they are too fond of sentiment; and sentiment must be +handled with caution in riddle stories. The fault of all riddle +novels is that they inevitably involve two kinds of interest, and +can seldom balance these so perfectly that one or the other of them +shall not suffer. The mind of the reader becomes weary in its +frequent journeys between human characters on one side the +mysterious events on the other, and would prefer the more single- +eyed treatment of the short tale. Wonder, too, is a very tender +and short-lived emotion, and sometimes perishes after a few pages. +Curiosity is tougher; but that too may be baffled too long, and end +by tiring of the pursuit while it is yet in its early stages. Many +excellent plots, admirable from the constructive point of view, +have been wasted by stringing them out too far; the reader +recognizes their merit, but loses his enthusiasm on account of a +sort of monotony of strain; he wickedly turns to the concluding +chapter, and the game is up. "The Woman in White," by Wilkie +Collins, was published about 1860, I think, in weekly installments, +and certainly they were devoured with insatiable appetite by many +thousands of readers. But I doubt whether a book of similar merit +could command such a following to-day; and I will even confess that +I have myself never read the concluding parts, and do not know to +this day who the woman was or what were the wrongs from which she +so poignantly suffered. + +The tales contained in the volumes herewith offered are the best +riddle or detective stories in the world, according to the best +judgment of the editors. They are the product of writers of all +nations; and translation, in this case, is less apt to be +misleading than with most other forms of literature, for a mystery +or a riddle is equally captivating in all languages. Many of the +good ones--perhaps some of the best ones--have been left out, +either because we missed them in our search, or because we had to +choose between them and others seemingly of equal excellence, and +were obliged to consider space limitations which, however +generously laid out, must have some end at last. Be that as it +may, we believe that there are enough good stories here to satisfy +the most Gargantuan hunger, and we feel sure that our volumes will +never be crowded off the shelf which has once made room for them. +If we have, now and then, a little transcended the strict +definition of the class of fiction which our title would promise, +we shall nevertheless not anticipate any serious quarrel with our +readers; if there be room to question the right of any given story +to appear in this company, there will be all the more reason for +accepting it on its own merits; for it had to be very good indeed +in order to overcome its technical disqualification. And if it did +not rightfully belong here, there would probably be objections as +strong to admitting it in any other collection. Between two or +more stools, it would be a pity to let it fall to the ground; so +let it be forgiven, and please us with whatever gift it has. + +In many cases where copyrights were still unexpired, we have to +express our acknowledgments to writers and publishers who have +accorded us the courtesy of their leave to reproduce what their +genius or enterprise has created and put forth. To our readers we +take pleasure in presenting what we know cannot fail to give them +pleasure--a collection of the fruits of the finest literary +ingenuity and nicest art accessible to the human mind. Gaudeat, +non caveat emptor! + +JULIAN HAWTHORNE. + + + +American Mystery Stories + + +F. Marion Crawford + +By the Waters of Paradise + + +I + + +I remember my childhood very distinctly. I do not think that the +fact argues a good memory, for I have never been clever at learning +words by heart, in prose or rhyme; so that I believe my remembrance +of events depends much more upon the events themselves than upon my +possessing any special facility for recalling them. Perhaps I am +too imaginative, and the earliest impressions I received were of a +kind to stimulate the imagination abnormally. A long series of +little misfortunes, so connected with each other as to suggest a +sort of weird fatality, so worked upon my melancholy temperament +when I was a boy that, before I was of age, I sincerely believed +myself to be under a curse, and not only myself, but my whole +family and every individual who bore my name. + +I was born in the old place where my father, and his father, and +all his predecessors had been born, beyond the memory of man. It +is a very old house, and the greater part of it was originally a +castle, strongly fortified, and surrounded by a deep moat supplied +with abundant water from the hills by a hidden aqueduct. Many of +the fortifications have been destroyed, and the moat has been +filled up. The water from the aqueduct supplies great fountains, +and runs down into huge oblong basins in the terraced gardens, one +below the other, each surrounded by a broad pavement of marble +between the water and the flower-beds. The waste surplus finally +escapes through an artificial grotto, some thirty yards long, into +a stream, flowing down through the park to the meadows beyond, and +thence to the distant river. The buildings were extended a little +and greatly altered more than two hundred years ago, in the time of +Charles II., but since then little has been done to improve them, +though they have been kept in fairly good repair, according to our +fortunes. + +In the gardens there are terraces and huge hedges of box and +evergreen, some of which used to be clipped into shapes of animals, +in the Italian style. I can remember when I was a lad how I used +to try to make out what the trees were cut to represent, and how I +used to appeal for explanations to Judith, my Welsh nurse. She +dealt in a strange mythology of her own, and peopled the gardens +with griffins, dragons, good genii and bad, and filled my mind with +them at the same time. My nursery window afforded a view of the +great fountains at the head of the upper basin, and on moonlight +nights the Welshwoman would hold me up to the glass and bid me look +at the mist and spray rising into mysterious shapes, moving +mystically in the white light like living things. + +"It's the Woman of the Water," she used to say; and sometimes she +would threaten that if I did not go to sleep the Woman of the Water +would steal up to the high window and carry me away in her wet +arms. + +The place was gloomy. The broad basins of water and the tall +evergreen hedges gave it a funereal look, and the damp-stained +marble causeways by the pools might have been made of tombstones. +The gray and weather-beaten walls and towers without, the dark and +massively furnished rooms within, the deep, mysterious recesses and +the heavy curtains, all affected my spirits. I was silent and sad +from my childhood. There was a great clock tower above, from which +the hours rang dismally during the day, and tolled like a knell in +the dead of night. There was no light nor life in the house, for +my mother was a helpless invalid, and my father had grown +melancholy in his long task of caring for her. He was a thin, dark +man, with sad eyes; kind, I think, but silent and unhappy. Next to +my mother, I believe he loved me better than anything on earth, for +he took immense pains and trouble in teaching me, and what he +taught me I have never forgotten. Perhaps it was his only +amusement, and that may be the reason why I had no nursery +governess or teacher of any kind while he lived. + +I used to be taken to see my mother every day, and sometimes twice +a day, for an hour at a time. Then I sat upon a little stool near +her feet, and she would ask me what I had been doing, and what I +wanted to do. I dare say she saw already the seeds of a profound +melancholy in my nature, for she looked at me always with a sad +smile, and kissed me with a sigh when I was taken away. + +One night, when I was just six years old, I lay awake in the +nursery. The door was not quite shut, and the Welsh nurse was +sitting sewing in the next room. Suddenly I heard her groan, and +say in a strange voice, "One--two--one--two!" I was frightened, +and I jumped up and ran to the door, barefooted as I was. + +"What is it, Judith?" I cried, clinging to her skirts. I can +remember the look in her strange dark eyes as she answered: + +"One--two leaden coffins, fallen from the ceiling!" she crooned, +working herself in her chair. "One--two--a light coffin and a +heavy coffin, falling to the floor!" + +Then she seemed to notice me, and she took me back to bed and sang +me to sleep with a queer old Welsh song. + +I do not know how it was, but the impression got hold of me that +she had meant that my father and mother were going to die very +soon. They died in the very room where she had been sitting that +night. It was a great room, my day nursery, full of sun when there +was any; and when the days were dark it was the most cheerful place +in the house. My mother grew rapidly worse, and I was transferred +to another part of the building to make place for her. They +thought my nursery was gayer for her, I suppose; but she could not +live. She was beautiful when she was dead, and I cried bitterly. + +The light one, the light one--the heavy one to come," crooned the +Welshwoman. And she was right. My father took the room after my +mother was gone, and day by day he grew thinner and paler and +sadder. + +"The heavy one, the heavy one--all of lead," moaned my nurse, one +night in December, standing still, just as she was going to take +away the light after putting me to bed. Then she took me up again +and wrapped me in a little gown, and led me away to my father's +room. She knocked, but no one answered. She opened the door, and +we found him in his easy chair before the fire, very white, quite +dead. + +So I was alone with the Welshwoman till strange people came, and +relations whom I had never seen; and then I heard them saying that +I must be taken away to some more cheerful place. They were kind +people, and I will not believe that they were kind only because I +was to be very rich when I grew to be a man. The world never +seemed to be a very bad place to me, nor all the people to be +miserable sinners, even when I was most melancholy. I do not +remember that anyone ever did me any great injustice, nor that I +was ever oppressed or ill treated in any way, even by the boys at +school. I was sad, I suppose, because my childhood was so gloomy, +and, later, because I was unlucky in everything I undertook, till I +finally believed I was pursued by fate, and I used to dream that +the old Welsh nurse and the Woman of the Water between them had +vowed to pursue me to my end. But my natural disposition should +have been cheerful, as I have often thought. + +Among the lads of my age I was never last, or even among the last, +in anything; but I was never first. If I trained for a race, I was +sure to sprain my ankle on the day when I was to run. If I pulled +an oar with others, my oar was sure to break. If I competed for a +prize, some unforeseen accident prevented my winning it at the last +moment. Nothing to which I put my hand succeeded, and I got the +reputation of being unlucky, until my companions felt it was always +safe to bet against me, no matter what the appearances might be. I +became discouraged and listless in everything. I gave up the idea +of competing for any distinction at the University, comforting +myself with the thought that I could not fail in the examination +for the ordinary degree. The day before the examination began I +fell ill; and when at last I recovered, after a narrow escape from +death, I turned my back upon Oxford, and went down alone to visit +the old place where I had been born, feeble in health and +profoundly disgusted and discouraged. I was twenty-one years of +age, master of myself and of my fortune; but so deeply had the long +chain of small unlucky circumstances affected me that I thought +seriously of shutting myself up from the world to live the life of +a hermit and to die as soon as possible. Death seemed the only +cheerful possibility in my existence, and my thoughts soon dwelt +upon it altogether. + +I had never shown any wish to return to my own home since I had +been taken away as a little boy, and no one had ever pressed me to +do so. The place had been kept in order after a fashion, and did +not seem to have suffered during the fifteen years or more of my +absence. Nothing earthly could affect those old gray walls that +had fought the elements for so many centuries. The garden was more +wild than I remembered it; the marble causeways about the pools +looked more yellow and damp than of old, and the whole place at +first looked smaller. It was not until I had wandered about the +house and grounds for many hours that I realized the huge size of +the home where I was to live in solitude. Then I began to delight +in it, and my resolution to live alone grew stronger. + +The people had turned out to welcome me, of course, and I tried to +recognize the changed faces of the old gardener and the old +housekeeper, and to call them by name. My old nurse I knew at +once. She had grown very gray since she heard the coffins fall in +the nursery fifteen years before, but her strange eyes were the +same, and the look in them woke all my old memories. She went over +the house with me. + +"And how is the Woman of the Water?" I asked, trying to laugh a +little. "Does she still play in the moonlight?" + +"She is hungry," answered the Welshwoman, in a low voice. + +"Hungry? Then we will feed her." I laughed. But old Judith +turned very pale, and looked at me strangely. + +"Feed her? Aye--you will feed her well," she muttered, glancing +behind her at the ancient housekeeper, who tottered after us with +feeble steps through the halls and passages. + +I did not think much of her words. She had always talked oddly, as +Welshwomen will, and though I was very melancholy I am sure I was +not superstitious, and I was certainly not timid. Only, as in a +far-off dream, I seemed to see her standing with the light in her +hand and muttering, "The heavy one--all of lead," and then leading +a little boy through the long corridors to see his father lying +dead in a great easy chair before a smoldering fire. So we went +over the house, and I chose the rooms where I would live; and the +servants I had brought with me ordered and arranged everything, and +I had no more trouble. I did not care what they did provided I was +left in peace and was not expected to give directions; for I was +more listless than ever, owing to the effects of my illness at +college. + +I dined in solitary state, and the melancholy grandeur of the vast +old dining-room pleased me. Then I went to the room I had selected +for my study, and sat down in a deep chair, under a bright light, +to think, or to let my thoughts meander through labyrinths of their +own choosing, utterly indifferent to the course they might take. + +The tall windows of the room opened to the level of the ground upon +the terrace at the head of the garden. It was in the end of July, +and everything was open, for the weather was warm. As I sat alone +I heard the unceasing splash of the great fountains, and I fell to +thinking of the Woman of the Water. I rose and went out into the +still night, and sat down upon a seat on the terrace, between two +gigantic Italian flower pots. The air was deliciously soft and +sweet with the smell of the flowers, and the garden was more +congenial to me than the house. Sad people always like running +water and the sound of it at night, though I cannot tell why. I +sat and listened in the gloom, for it was dark below, and the pale +moon had not yet climbed over the hills in front of me, though all +the air above was light with her rising beams. Slowly the white +halo in the eastern sky ascended in an arch above the wooded +crests, making the outlines of the mountains more intensely black +by contrast, as though the head of some great white saint were +rising from behind a screen in a vast cathedral, throwing misty +glories from below. I longed to see the moon herself, and I tried +to reckon the seconds before she must appear. Then she sprang up +quickly, and in a moment more hung round and perfect in the sky. I +gazed at her, and then at the floating spray of the tall fountains, +and down at the pools, where the water lilies were rocking softly +in their sleep on the velvet surface of the moonlit water. Just +then a great swan floated out silently into the midst of the basin, +and wreathed his long neck, catching the water in his broad bill, +and scattering showers of diamonds around him. + +Suddenly, as I gazed, something came between me and the light. I +looked up instantly. Between me and the round disk of the moon +rose a luminous face of a woman, with great strange eyes, and a +woman's mouth, full and soft, but not smiling, hooded in black, +staring at me as I sat still upon my bench. She was close to me-- +so close that I could have touched her with my hand. But I was +transfixed and helpless. She stood still for a moment, but her +expression did not change. Then she passed swiftly away, and my +hair stood up on my head, while the cold breeze from her white +dress was wafted to my temples as she moved. The moonlight, +shining through the tossing spray of the fountain, made traceries +of shadow on the gleaming folds of her garments. In an instant she +was gone and I was alone. + +I was strangely shaken by the vision, and some time passed before I +could rise to my feet, for I was still weak from my illness, and +the sight I had seen would have startled anyone. I did not reason +with myself, for I was certain that I had looked on the unearthly, +and no argument could have destroyed that belief. At last I got up +and stood unsteadily, gazing in the direction in which I thought +the face had gone; but there was nothing to be seen--nothing but +the broad paths, the tall, dark evergreen hedges, the tossing water +of the fountains and the smooth pool below. I fell back upon the +seat and recalled the face I had seen. Strange to say, now that +the first impression had passed, there was nothing startling in the +recollection; on the contrary, I felt that I was fascinated by the +face, and would give anything to see it again. I could retrace the +beautiful straight features, the long dark eyes, and the wonderful +mouth most exactly in my mind, and when I had reconstructed every +detail from memory I knew that the whole was beautiful, and that I +should love a woman with such a face. + +"I wonder whether she is the Woman of the Water!" I said to myself. +Then rising once more, I wandered down the garden, descending one +short flight of steps after another from terrace to terrace by the +edge of the marble basins, through the shadow and through the +moonlight; and I crossed the water by the rustic bridge above the +artificial grotto, and climbed slowly up again to the highest +terrace by the other side. The air seemed sweeter, and I was very +calm, so that I think I smiled to myself as I walked, as though a +new happiness had come to me. The woman's face seemed always +before me, and the thought of it gave me an unwonted thrill of +pleasure, unlike anything I had ever felt before. + +I turned as I reached the house, and looked back upon the scene. +It had certainly changed in the short hour since I had come out, +and my mood had changed with it. Just like my luck, I thought, to +fall in love with a ghost! But in old times I would have sighed, +and gone to bed more sad than ever, at such a melancholy +conclusion. To-night I felt happy, almost for the first time in my +life. The gloomy old study seemed cheerful when I went in. The +old pictures on the walls smiled at me, and I sat down in my deep +chair with a new and delightful sensation that I was not alone. +The idea of having seen a ghost, and of feeling much the better for +it, was so absurd that I laughed softly, as I took up one of the +books I had brought with me and began to read. + +That impression did not wear off. I slept peacefully, and in the +morning I threw open my windows to the summer air and looked down +at the garden, at the stretches of green and at the colored flower- +beds, at the circling swallows and at the bright water. + +"A man might make a paradise of this place," I exclaimed. "A man +and a woman together!" + +From that day the old Castle no longer seemed gloomy, and I think I +ceased to be sad; for some time, too, I began to take an interest +in the place, and to try and make it more alive. I avoided my old +Welsh nurse, lest she should damp my humor with some dismal +prophecy, and recall my old self by bringing back memories of my +dismal childhood. But what I thought of most was the ghostly +figure I had seen in the garden that first night after my arrival. +I went out every evening and wandered through the walks and paths; +but, try as I might, I did not see my vision again. At last, after +many days, the memory grew more faint, and my old moody nature +gradually overcame the temporary sense of lightness I had +experienced. The summer turned to autumn, and I grew restless. It +began to rain. The dampness pervaded the gardens, and the outer +halls smelled musty, like tombs; the gray sky oppressed me +intolerably. I left the place as it was and went abroad, +determined to try anything which might possibly make a second break +in the monotonous melancholy from which I suffered. + + +II + + +Most people would be struck by the utter insignificance of the +small events which, after the death of my parents, influenced my +life and made me unhappy. The grewsome forebodings of a Welsh +nurse, which chanced to be realized by an odd coincidence of +events, should not seem enough to change the nature of a child and +to direct the bent of his character in after years. The little +disappointments of schoolboy life, and the somewhat less childish +ones of an uneventful and undistinguished academic career, should +not have sufficed to turn me out at one-and-twenty years of age a +melancholic, listless idler. Some weakness of my own character may +have contributed to the result, but in a greater degree it was due +to my having a reputation for bad luck. However, I will not try to +analyze the causes of my state, for I should satisfy nobody, least +of all myself. Still less will I attempt to explain why I felt a +temporary revival of my spirits after my adventure in the garden. +It is certain that I was in love with the face I had seen, and that +I longed to see it again; that I gave up all hope of a second +visitation, grew more sad than ever, packed up my traps, and +finally went abroad. But in my dreams I went back to my home, and +it always appeared to me sunny and bright, as it had looked on that +summer's morning after I had seen the woman by the fountain. + +I went to Paris. I went farther, and wandered about Germany. I +tried to amuse myself, and I failed miserably. With the aimless +whims of an idle and useless man come all sorts of suggestions for +good resolutions. One day I made up my mind that I would go and +bury myself in a German university for a time, and live simply like +a poor student. I started with the intention of going to Leipzig, +determined to stay there until some event should direct my life or +change my humor, or make an end of me altogether. The express +train stopped at some station of which I did not know the name. It +was dusk on a winter's afternoon, and I peered through the thick +glass from my seat. Suddenly another train came gliding in from +the opposite direction, and stopped alongside of ours. I looked at +the carriage which chanced to be abreast of mine, and idly read the +black letters painted on a white board swinging from the brass +handrail: BERLIN--COLOGNE--PARIS. Then I looked up at the window +above. I started violently, and the cold perspiration broke out +upon my forehead. In the dim light, not six feet from where I sat, +I saw the face of a woman, the face I loved, the straight, fine +features, the strange eyes, the wonderful mouth, the pale skin. +Her head-dress was a dark veil which seemed to be tied about her +head and passed over the shoulders under her chin. As I threw down +the window and knelt on the cushioned seat, leaning far out to get +a better view, a long whistle screamed through the station, +followed by a quick series of dull, clanking sounds; then there was +a slight jerk, and my train moved on. Luckily the window was +narrow, being the one over the seat, beside the door, or I believe +I would have jumped out of it then and there. In an instant the +speed increased, and I was being carried swiftly away in the +opposite direction from the thing I loved. + +For a quarter of an hour I lay back in my place, stunned by the +suddenness of the apparition. At last one of the two other +passengers, a large and gorgeous captain of the White Konigsberg +Cuirassiers, civilly but firmly suggested that I might shut my +window, as the evening was cold. I did so, with an apology, and +relapsed into silence. The train ran swiftly on for a long time, +and it was already beginning to slacken speed before entering +another station, when I roused myself and made a sudden resolution. +As the carriage stopped before the brilliantly lighted platform, I +seized my belongings, saluted my fellow-passengers, and got out, +determined to take the first express back to Paris. + +This time the circumstances of the vision had been so natural that +it did not strike me that there was anything unreal about the face, +or about the woman to whom it belonged. I did not try to explain +to myself how the face, and the woman, could be traveling by a fast +train from Berlin to Paris on a winter's afternoon, when both were +in my mind indelibly associated with the moonlight and the +fountains in my own English home. I certainly would not have +admitted that I had been mistaken in the dusk, attributing to what +I had seen a resemblance to my former vision which did not really +exist. There was not the slightest doubt in my mind, and I was +positively sure that I had again seen the face I loved. I did not +hesitate, and in a few hours I was on my way back to Paris. I +could not help reflecting on my ill luck. Wandering as I had been +for many months, it might as easily have chanced that I should be +traveling in the same train with that woman, instead of going the +other way. But my luck was destined to turn for a time. + +I searched Paris for several days. I dined at the principal +hotels; I went to the theaters; I rode in the Bois de Boulogne in +the morning, and picked up an acquaintance, whom I forced to drive +with me in the afternoon. I went to mass at the Madeleine, and I +attended the services at the English Church. I hung about the +Louvre and Notre Dame. I went to Versailles. I spent hours in +parading the Rue de Rivoli, in the neighborhood of Meurice's +corner, where foreigners pass and repass from morning till night. +At last I received an invitation to a reception at the English +Embassy. I went, and I found what I had sought so long. + +There she was, sitting by an old lady in gray satin and diamonds, +who had a wrinkled but kindly face and keen gray eyes that seemed +to take in everything they saw, with very little inclination to +give much in return. But I did not notice the chaperon. I saw +only the face that had haunted me for months, and in the excitement +of the moment I walked quickly toward the pair, forgetting such a +trifle as the necessity for an introduction. + +She was far more beautiful than I had thought, but I never doubted +that it was she herself and no other. Vision or no vision before, +this was the reality, and I knew it. Twice her hair had been +covered, now at last I saw it, and the added beauty of its +magnificence glorified the whole woman. It was rich hair, fine and +abundant, golden, with deep ruddy tints in it like red bronze spun +fine. There was no ornament in it, not a rose, not a thread of +gold, and I felt that it needed nothing to enhance its splendor; +nothing but her pale face, her dark strange eyes, and her heavy +eyebrows. I could see that she was slender too, but strong withal, +as she sat there quietly gazing at the moving scene in the midst of +the brilliant lights and the hum of perpetual conversation. + +I recollected the detail of introduction in time, and turned aside +to look for my host. I found him at last. I begged him to present +me to the two ladies, pointing them out to him at the same time. + +"Yes--uh--by all means--uh," replied his Excellency with a pleasant +smile. He evidently had no idea of my name, which was not to be +wondered at. + +"I am Lord Cairngorm," I observed. + +"Oh--by all means," answered the Ambassador with the same +hospitable smile. "Yes--uh--the fact is, I must try and find out +who they are; such lots of people, you know." + +"Oh, if you will present me, I will try and find out for you," said +I, laughing. + +"Ah, yes--so kind of you--come along," said my host. We threaded +the crowd, and in a few minutes we stood before the two ladies. + +"'Lowmintrduce L'd Cairngorm," he said; then, adding quickly to me, +"Come and dine to-morrow, won't you?" he glided away with his +pleasant smile and disappeared in the crowd. + +I sat down beside the beautiful girl, conscious that the eyes of +the duenna were upon me. + +"I think we have been very near meeting before," I remarked, by way +of opening the conversation. + +My companion turned her eyes full upon me with an air of inquiry. +She evidently did not recall my face, if she had ever seen me. + +"Really--I cannot remember," she observed, in a low and musical +voice. "When?" + +"In the first place, you came down from Berlin by the express ten +days ago. I was going the other way, and our carriages stopped +opposite each other. I saw you at the window." + +"Yes--we came that way, but I do not remember--" She hesitated. + +"Secondly," I continued, "I was sitting alone in my garden last +summer--near the end of July--do you remember? You must have +wandered in there through the park; you came up to the house and +looked at me--" + +"Was that you?" she asked, in evident surprise. Then she broke +into a laugh. "I told everybody I had seen a ghost; there had +never been any Cairngorms in the place since the memory of man. We +left the next day, and never heard that you had come there; indeed, +I did not know the castle belonged to you." + +"Where were you staying?" I asked. + +"Where? Why, with my aunt, where I always stay. She is your +neighbor, since it IS you." + +"I--beg your pardon--but then--is your aunt Lady Bluebell? I did +not quite catch--" + +"Don't be afraid. She is amazingly deaf. Yes. She is the relict +of my beloved uncle, the sixteenth or seventeenth Baron Bluebell--I +forget exactly how many of them there have been. And I--do you +know who I am?" She laughed, well knowing that I did not. + +"No," I answered frankly. "I have not the least idea. I asked to +be introduced because I recognized you. Perhaps--perhaps you are a +Miss Bluebell?" + +"Considering that you are a neighbor, I will tell you who I am," +she answered. "No; I am of the tribe of Bluebells, but my name is +Lammas, and I have been given to understand that I was christened +Margaret. Being a floral family, they call me Daisy. A dreadful +American man once told me that my aunt was a Bluebell and that I +was a Harebell--with two l's and an e--because my hair is so thick. +I warn you, so that you may avoid making such a bad pun." + +"Do I look like a man who makes puns?" I asked, being very +conscious of my melancholy face and sad looks. + +Miss Lammas eyed me critically. + +"No; you have a mournful temperament. I think I can trust you," +she answered. "Do you think you could communicate to my aunt the +fact that you are a Cairngorm and a neighbor? I am sure she would +like to know." + +I leaned toward the old lady, inflating my lungs for a yell. But +Miss Lammas stopped me. + +"That is not of the slightest use," she remarked. "You can write +it on a bit of paper. She is utterly deaf." + +"I have a pencil," I answered; "but I have no paper. Would my cuff +do, do you think?" + +"Oh, yes!" replied Miss Lammas, with alacrity; "men often do that." + +I wrote on my cuff: "Miss Lammas wishes me to explain that I am +your neighbor, Cairngorm." Then I held out my arm before the old +lady's nose. She seemed perfectly accustomed to the proceeding, +put up her glasses, read the words, smiled, nodded, and addressed +me in the unearthly voice peculiar to people who hear nothing. + +"I knew your grandfather very well," she said. Then she smiled and +nodded to me again, and to her niece, and relapsed into silence. + +"It is all right," remarked Miss Lammas. "Aunt Bluebell knows she +is deaf, and does not say much, like the parrot. You see, she knew +your grandfather. How odd that we should be neighbors! Why have +we never met before?" + +"If you had told me you knew my grandfather when you appeared in +the garden, I should not have been in the least surprised," I +answered rather irrelevantly. "I really thought you were the ghost +of the old fountain. How in the world did you come there at that +hour?" + +"We were a large party and we went out for a walk. Then we thought +we should like to see what your park was like in the moonlight, and +so we trespassed. I got separated from the rest, and came upon you +by accident, just as I was admiring the extremely ghostly look of +your house, and wondering whether anybody would ever come and live +there again. It looks like the castle of Macbeth, or a scene from +the opera. Do you know anybody here?" + +"Hardly a soul! Do you?" + +"No. Aunt Bluebell said it was our duty to come. It is easy for +her to go out; she does not bear the burden of the conversation." + +"I am sorry you find it a burden," said I. "Shall I go away?" + +Miss Lammas looked at me with a sudden gravity in her beautiful +eyes, and there was a sort of hesitation about the lines of her +full, soft mouth. + +"No," she said at last, quite simply, "don't go away. We may like +each other, if you stay a little longer--and we ought to, because +we are neighbors in the country." + +I suppose I ought to have thought Miss Lammas a very odd girl. +There is, indeed, a sort of freemasonry between people who discover +that they live near each other and that they ought to have known +each other before. But there was a sort of unexpected frankness +and simplicity in the girl's amusing manner which would have struck +anyone else as being singular, to say the least of it. To me, +however, it all seemed natural enough. I had dreamed of her face +too long not to be utterly happy when I met her at last and could +talk to her as much as I pleased. To me, the man of ill luck in +everything, the whole meeting seemed too good to be true. I felt +again that strange sensation of lightness which I had experienced +after I had seen her face in the garden. The great rooms seemed +brighter, life seemed worth living; my sluggish, melancholy blood +ran faster, and filled me with a new sense of strength. I said to +myself that without this woman I was but an imperfect being, but +that with her I could accomplish everything to which I should set +my hand. Like the great Doctor, when he thought he had cheated +Mephistopheles at last, I could have cried aloud to the fleeting +moment, Verweile doch, du bist so schon! + +"Are you always gay?" I asked, suddenly. "How happy you must be!" + +"The days would sometimes seem very long if I were gloomy," she +answered, thoughtfully. "Yes, I think I find life very pleasant, +and I tell it so." + +"How can you 'tell life' anything?" I inquired. "If I could catch +my life and talk to it, I would abuse it prodigiously, I assure +you." + +"I dare say. You have a melancholy temper. You ought to live out- +of-doors, dig potatoes, make hay, shoot, hunt, tumble into ditches, +and come home muddy and hungry for dinner. It would be much better +for you than moping in your rook tower and hating everything." + +"It is rather lonely down there," I murmured, apologetically, +feeling that Miss Lammas was quite right. + +"Then marry, and quarrel with your wife," she laughed. "Anything +is better than being alone." + +"I am a very peaceable person. I never quarrel with anybody. You +can try it. You will find it quite impossible." + +"Will you let me try?" she asked, still smiling. + +"By all means--especially if it is to be only a preliminary +canter," I answered, rashly. + +"What do you mean?" she inquired, turning quickly upon me. + +"Oh--nothing. You might try my paces with a view to quarreling in +the future. I cannot imagine how you are going to do it. You will +have to resort to immediate and direct abuse." + +"No. I will only say that if you do not like your life, it is your +own fault. How can a man of your age talk of being melancholy, or +of the hollowness of existence? Are you consumptive? Are you +subject to hereditary insanity? Are you deaf, like Aunt Bluebell? +Are you poor, like--lots of people? Have you been crossed in love? +Have you lost the world for a woman, or any particular woman for +the sake of the world? Are you feeble-minded, a cripple, an +outcast? Are you--repulsively ugly?" She laughed again. "Is +there any reason in the world why you should not enjoy all you have +got in life?" + +"No. There is no reason whatever, except that I am dreadfully +unlucky, especially in small things." + +"Then try big things, just for a change," suggested Miss Lammas. +"Try and get married, for instance, and see how it turns out." + +"If it turned out badly it would be rather serious." + +"Not half so serious as it is to abuse everything unreasonably. If +abuse is your particular talent, abuse something that ought to be +abused. Abuse the Conservatives--or the Liberals--it does not +matter which, since they are always abusing each other. Make +yourself felt by other people. You will like it, if they don't. +It will make a man of you. Fill your mouth with pebbles, and howl +at the sea, if you cannot do anything else. It did Demosthenes no +end of good, you know. You will have the satisfaction of imitating +a great man." + +"Really, Miss Lammas, I think the list of innocent exercises you +propose--" + +"Very well--if you don't care for that sort of thing, care for some +other sort of thing. Care for something, or hate something. Don't +be idle. Life is short, and though art may be long, plenty of +noise answers nearly as well." + +"I do care for something--I mean, somebody," I said. + +"A woman? Then marry her. Don't hesitate." + +"I do not know whether she would marry me," I replied. "I have +never asked her." + +"Then ask her at once," answered Miss Lammas. "I shall die happy +if I feel I have persuaded a melancholy fellow creature to rouse +himself to action. Ask her, by all means, and see what she says. +If she does not accept you at once, she may take you the next time. +Meanwhile, you will have entered for the race. If you lose, there +are the 'All-aged Trial Stakes,' and the 'Consolation Race.'" + +"And plenty of selling races into the bargain. Shall I take you at +your word, Miss Lammas?" + +"I hope you will," she answered. + +"Since you yourself advise me, I will. Miss Lammas, will you do me +the honor to marry me?" + +For the first time in my life the blood rushed to my head and my +sight swam. I cannot tell why I said it. It would be useless to +try to explain the extraordinary fascination the girl exercised +over me, or the still more extraordinary feeling of intimacy with +her which had grown in me during that half hour. Lonely, sad, +unlucky as I had been all my life, I was certainly not timid, nor +even shy. But to propose to marry a woman after half an hour's +acquaintance was a piece of madness of which I never believed +myself capable, and of which I should never be capable again, could +I be placed in the same situation. It was as though my whole being +had been changed in a moment by magic--by the white magic of her +nature brought into contact with mine. The blood sank back to my +heart, and a moment later I found myself staring at her with +anxious eyes. To my amazement she was as calm as ever, but her +beautiful mouth smiled, and there was a mischievous light in her +dark-brown eyes. + +"Fairly caught," she answered. "For an individual who pretends to +be listless and sad you are not lacking in humor. I had really not +the least idea what you were going to say. Wouldn't it be +singularly awkward for you if I had said 'Yes'? I never saw +anybody begin to practice so sharply what was preached to him--with +so very little loss of time!" + +"You probably never met a man who had dreamed of you for seven +months before being introduced." + +"No, I never did," she answered gayly. "It smacks of the romantic. +Perhaps you are a romantic character, after all. I should think +you were if I believed you. Very well; you have taken my advice, +entered for a Stranger's Race and lost it. Try the All-aged Trial +Stakes. You have another cuff, and a pencil. Propose to Aunt +Bluebell; she would dance with astonishment, and she might recover +her hearing." + + +III + + +That was how I first asked Margaret Lammas to be my wife, and I +will agree with anyone who says I behaved very foolishly. But I +have not repented of it, and I never shall. I have long ago +understood that I was out of my mind that evening, but I think my +temporary insanity on that occasion has had the effect of making me +a saner man ever since. Her manner turned my head, for it was so +different from what I had expected. To hear this lovely creature, +who, in my imagination, was a heroine of romance, if not of +tragedy, talking familiarly and laughing readily was more than my +equanimity could bear, and I lost my head as well as my heart. But +when I went back to England in the spring, I went to make certain +arrangements at the Castle--certain changes and improvements which +would be absolutely necessary. I had won the race for which I had +entered myself so rashly, and we were to be married in June. + +Whether the change was due to the orders I had left with the +gardener and the rest of the servants, or to my own state of mind, +I cannot tell. At all events, the old place did not look the same +to me when I opened my window on the morning after my arrival. +There were the gray walls below me and the gray turrets flanking +the huge building; there were the fountains, the marble causeways, +the smooth basins, the tall box hedges, the water lilies and the +swans, just as of old. But there was something else there, too-- +something in the air, in the water, and in the greenness that I did +not recognize--a light over everything by which everything was +transfigured. The clock in the tower struck seven, and the strokes +of the ancient bell sounded like a wedding chime. The air sang +with the thrilling treble of the song-birds, with the silvery music +of the plashing water and the softer harmony of the leaves stirred +by the fresh morning wind. There was a smell of new-mown hay from +the distant meadows, and of blooming roses from the beds below, +wafted up together to my window. I stood in the pure sunshine and +drank the air and all the sounds and the odors that were in it; and +I looked down at my garden and said: "It is Paradise, after all." +I think the men of old were right when they called heaven a garden, +and Eden a garden inhabited by one man and one woman, the Earthly +Paradise. + +I turned away, wondering what had become of the gloomy memories I +had always associated with my home. I tried to recall the +impression of my nurse's horrible prophecy before the death of my +parents--an impression which hitherto had been vivid enough. I +tried to remember my old self, my dejection, my listlessness, my +bad luck, my petty disappointments. I endeavored to force myself +to think as I used to think, if only to satisfy myself that I had +not lost my individuality. But I succeeded in none of these +efforts. I was a different man, a changed being, incapable of +sorrow, of ill luck, or of sadness. My life had been a dream, not +evil, but infinitely gloomy and hopeless. It was now a reality, +full of hope, gladness, and all manner of good. My home had been +like a tomb; to-day it was Paradise. My heart had been as though +it had not existed; to-day it beat with strength and youth and the +certainty of realized happiness. I reveled in the beauty of the +world, and called loveliness out of the future to enjoy it before +time should bring it to me, as a traveler in the plains looks up to +the mountains, and already tastes the cool air through the dust of +the road. + +Here, I thought, we will live and live for years. There we will +sit by the fountain toward evening and in the deep moonlight. Down +those paths we will wander together. On those benches we will rest +and talk. Among those eastern hills we will ride through the soft +twilight, and in the old house we will tell tales on winter nights, +when the logs burn high, and the holly berries are red, and the old +clock tolls out the dying year. On these old steps, in these dark +passages and stately rooms, there will one day be the sound of +little pattering feet, and laughing child voices will ring up to +the vaults of the ancient hall. Those tiny footsteps shall not be +slow and sad as mine were, nor shall the childish words be spoken +in an awed whisper. No gloomy Welshwoman shall people the dusky +corners with weird horrors, nor utter horrid prophecies of death +and ghastly things. All shall be young, and fresh, and joyful, and +happy, and we will turn the old luck again, and forget that there +was ever any sadness. + +So I thought, as I looked out of my window that morning and for +many mornings after that, and every day it all seemed more real +than ever before, and much nearer. But the old nurse looked at me +askance, and muttered odd sayings about the Woman of the Water. I +cared little what she said, for I was far too happy. + +At last the time came near for the wedding. Lady Bluebell and all +the tribe of Bluebells, as Margaret called them, were at Bluebell +Grange, for we had determined to be married in the country, and to +come straight to the Castle afterwards. We cared little for +traveling, and not at all for a crowded ceremony at St. George's in +Hanover Square, with all the tiresome formalities afterwards. I +used to ride over to the Grange every day, and very often Margaret +would come with her aunt and some of her cousins to the Castle. I +was suspicious of my own taste, and was only too glad to let her +have her way about the alterations and improvements in our home. + +We were to be married on the thirtieth of July, and on the evening +of the twenty-eighth Margaret drove over with some of the Bluebell +party. In the long summer twilight we all went out into the +garden. Naturally enough, Margaret and I were left to ourselves, +and we wandered down by the marble basins. + +"It is an odd coincidence," I said; "it was on this very night last +year that I first saw you." + +"Considering that it is the month of July," answered Margaret with +a laugh, "and that we have been here almost every day, I don't +think the coincidence is so extraordinary, after all." + +"No, dear," said I, "I suppose not. I don't know why it struck me. +We shall very likely be here a year from today, and a year from +that. The odd thing, when I think of it, is that you should be +here at all. But my luck has turned. I ought not to think +anything odd that happens now that I have you. It is all sure to +be good." + +"A slight change in your ideas since that remarkable performance of +yours in Paris," said Margaret. "Do you know, I thought you were +the most extraordinary man I had ever met." + +"I thought you were the most charming woman I had ever seen. I +naturally did not want to lose any time in frivolities. I took you +at your word, I followed your advice, I asked you to marry me, and +this is the delightful result--what's the matter?" + +Margaret had started suddenly, and her hand tightened on my arm. +An old woman was coming up the path, and was close to us before we +saw her, for the moon had risen, and was shining full in our faces. +The woman turned out to be my old nurse. + +"It's only Judith, dear--don't be frightened," I said. Then I +spoke to the Welshwoman: "What are you about, Judith? Have you +been feeding the Woman of the Water?" + +"Aye--when the clock strikes, Willie--my Lord, I mean," muttered +the old creature, drawing aside to let us pass, and fixing her +strange eyes on Margaret's face. + +"What does she mean?" asked Margaret, when we had gone by. + +"Nothing, darling. The old thing is mildly crazy, but she is a +good soul." + +We went on in silence for a few moments, and came to the rustic +bridge just above the artificial grotto through which the water ran +out into the park, dark and swift in its narrow channel. We +stopped, and leaned on the wooden rail. The moon was now behind +us, and shone full upon the long vista of basins and on the huge +walls and towers of the Castle above. + +"How proud you ought to be of such a grand old place!" said +Margaret, softly. + +"It is yours now, darling," I answered. "You have as good a right +to love it as I--but I only love it because you are to live in it, +dear." + +Her hand stole out and lay on mine, and we were both silent. Just +then the clock began to strike far off in the tower. I counted-- +eight--nine--ten--eleven--I looked at my watch--twelve--thirteen--I +laughed. The bell went on striking. + +"The old clock has gone crazy, like Judith," I exclaimed. Still it +went on, note after note ringing out monotonously through the still +air. We leaned over the rail, instinctively looking in the +direction whence the sound came. On and on it went. I counted +nearly a hundred, out of sheer curiosity, for I understood that +something had broken and that the thing was running itself down. + +Suddenly there was a crack as of breaking wood, a cry and a heavy +splash, and I was alone, clinging to the broken end of the rail of +the rustic bridge. + +I do not think I hesitated while my pulse beat twice. I sprang +clear of the bridge into the black rushing water, dived to the +bottom, came up again with empty hands, turned and swam downward +through the grotto in the thick darkness, plunging and diving at +every stroke, striking my head and hands against jagged stones and +sharp corners, clutching at last something in my fingers and +dragging it up with all my might. I spoke, I cried aloud, but +there was no answer. I was alone in the pitchy darkness with my +burden, and the house was five hundred yards away. Struggling +still, I felt the ground beneath my feet, I saw a ray of moonlight- +-the grotto widened, and the deep water became a broad and shallow +brook as I stumbled over the stones and at last laid Margaret's +body on the bank in the park beyond. + +"Aye, Willie, as the clock struck!" said the voice of Judith, the +Welsh nurse, as she bent down and looked at the white face. The +old woman must have turned back and followed us, seen the accident, +and slipped out by the lower gate of the garden. "Aye," she +groaned, "you have fed the Woman of the Water this night, Willie, +while the clock was striking." + +I scarcely heard her as I knelt beside the lifeless body of the +woman I loved, chafing the wet white temples and gazing wildly into +the wide-staring eyes. I remember only the first returning look of +consciousness, the first heaving breath, the first movement of +those dear hands stretching out toward me. + + +That is not much of a story, you say. It is the story of my life. +That is all. It does not pretend to be anything else. Old Judith +says my luck turned on that summer's night when I was struggling in +the water to save all that was worth living for. A month later +there was a stone bridge above the grotto, and Margaret and I stood +on it and looked up at the moonlit Castle, as we had done once +before, and as we have done many times since. For all those things +happened ten years ago last summer, and this is the tenth Christmas +Eve we have spent together by the roaring logs in the old hall, +talking of old times; and every year there are more old times to +talk of. There are curly-headed boys, too, with red-gold hair and +dark-brown eyes like their mother's, and a little Margaret, with +solemn black eyes like mine. Why could not she look like her +mother, too, as well as the rest of them? + +The world is very bright at this glorious Christmas time, and +perhaps there is little use in calling up the sadness of long ago, +unless it be to make the jolly firelight seem more cheerful, the +good wife's face look gladder, and to give the children's laughter +a merrier ring, by contrast with all that is gone. Perhaps, too, +some sad-faced, listless, melancholy youth, who feels that the +world is very hollow, and that life is like a perpetual funeral +service, just as I used to feel myself, may take courage from my +example, and having found the woman of his heart, ask her to marry +him after half an hour's acquaintance. But, on the whole, I would +not advise any man to marry, for the simple reason that no man will +ever find a wife like mine, and being obliged to go farther, he +will necessarily fare worse. My wife has done miracles, but I will +not assert that any other woman is able to follow her example. + +Margaret always said that the old place was beautiful, and that I +ought to be proud of it. I dare say she is right. She has even +more imagination than I. But I have a good answer and a plain one, +which is this,--that all the beauty of the Castle comes from her. +She has breathed upon it all, as the children blow upon the cold +glass window panes in winter; and as their warm breath crystallizes +into landscapes from fairyland, full of exquisite shapes and +traceries upon the blank surface, so her spirit has transformed +every gray stone of the old towers, every ancient tree and hedge in +the gardens, every thought in my once melancholy self. All that +was old is young, and all that was sad is glad, and I am the +gladdest of all. Whatever heaven may be, there is no earthly +paradise without woman, nor is there anywhere a place so desolate, +so dreary, so unutterably miserable that a woman cannot make it +seem heaven to the man she loves and who loves her. + +I hear certain cynics laugh, and cry that all that has been said +before. Do not laugh, my good cynic. You are too small a man to +laugh at such a great thing as love. Prayers have been said before +now by many, and perhaps you say yours, too. I do not think they +lose anything by being repeated, nor you by repeating them. You +say that the world is bitter, and full of the Waters of Bitterness. +Love, and so live that you may be loved--the world will turn sweet +for you, and you shall rest like me by the Waters of Paradise. + + +From "The Play-Actress and the Upper Berth," by F. Marion Crawford. +Copyright, 1896, by G. P. Putnam's Sons. + + + +Mary E. Wilkins Freeman + +The Shadows on the Wall + + +"Henry had words with Edward in the study the night before Edward +died," said Caroline Glynn. + +She was elderly, tall, and harshly thin, with a hard colourlessness +of face. She spoke not with acrimony, but with grave severity. +Rebecca Ann Glynn, younger, stouter and rosy of face between her +crinkling puffs of gray hair, gasped, by way of assent. She sat in +a wide flounce of black silk in the corner of the sofa, and rolled +terrified eyes from her sister Caroline to her sister Mrs. Stephen +Brigham, who had been Emma Glynn, the one beauty of the family. She +was beautiful still, with a large, splendid, full-blown beauty; she +filled a great rocking-chair with her superb bulk of femininity, +and swayed gently back and forth, her black silks whispering and +her black frills fluttering. Even the shock of death (for her +brother Edward lay dead in the house,) could not disturb her +outward serenity of demeanor. She was grieved over the loss of her +brother: he had been the youngest, and she had been fond of him, +but never had Emma Brigham lost sight of her own importance amidst +the waters of tribulation. She was always awake to the +consciousness of her own stability in the midst of vicissitudes and +the splendor of her permanent bearing. + +But even her expression of masterly placidity changed before her +sister Caroline's announcement and her sister Rebecca Ann's gasp of +terror and distress in response. + +"I think Henry might have controlled his temper, when poor Edward +was so near his end," said she with an asperity which disturbed +slightly the roseate curves of her beautiful mouth. + +"Of course he did not KNOW," murmured Rebecca Ann in a faint tone +strangely out of keeping with her appearance. + +One involuntarily looked again to be sure that such a feeble pipe +came from that full-swelling chest. + +"Of course he did not know it," said Caroline quickly. She turned +on her sister with a strange sharp look of suspicion. "How could +he have known it?" said she. Then she shrank as if from the +other's possible answer. "Of course you and I both know he could +not," said she conclusively, but her pale face was paler than it +had been before. + +Rebecca gasped again. The married sister, Mrs. Emma Brigham, was +now sitting up straight in her chair; she had ceased rocking, and +was eyeing them both intently with a sudden accentuation of family +likeness in her face. Given one common intensity of emotion and +similar lines showed forth, and the three sisters of one race were +evident. + +"What do you mean?" said she impartially to them both. Then she, +too, seemed to shrink before a possible answer. She even laughed +an evasive sort of laugh. "I guess you don't mean anything," said +she, but her face wore still the expression of shrinking horror. + +"Nobody means anything," said Caroline firmly. She rose and +crossed the room toward the door with grim decisiveness. + +"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Brigham. + +"I have something to see to," replied Caroline, and the others at +once knew by her tone that she had some solemn and sad duty to +perform in the chamber of death. + +"Oh," said Mrs. Brigham. + +After the door had closed behind Caroline, she turned to Rebecca. + +"Did Henry have many words with him?" she asked. + +"They were talking very loud," replied Rebecca evasively, yet with +an answering gleam of ready response to the other's curiosity in +the quick lift of her soft blue eyes. + +Mrs. Brigham looked at her. She had not resumed rocking. She +still sat up straight with a slight knitting of intensity on her +fair forehead, between the pretty rippling curves of her auburn +hair. + +"Did you--hear anything?" she asked in a low voice with a glance +toward the door. + +"I was just across the hall in the south parlor, and that door was +open and this door ajar," replied Rebecca with a slight flush. + +"Then you must have--" + +"I couldn't help it." + +"Everything?" + +"Most of it." + +"What was it?" + +"The old story." + +"I suppose Henry was mad, as he always was, because Edward was +living on here for nothing, when he had wasted all the money father +left him." + +Rebecca nodded with a fearful glance at the door. + +When Emma spoke again her voice was still more hushed. "I know how +he felt," said she. "He had always been so prudent himself, and +worked hard at his profession, and there Edward had never done +anything but spend, and it must have looked to him as if Edward was +living at his expense, but he wasn't." + +"No, he wasn't." + +"It was the way father left the property--that all the children +should have a home here--and he left money enough to buy the food +and all if we had all come home." + +"Yes." + +"And Edward had a right here according to the terms of father's +will, and Henry ought to have remembered it." + +"Yes, he ought." + +"Did he say hard things?" + +"Pretty hard from what I heard." + +"What?" + +"I heard him tell Edward that he had no business here at all, and +he thought he had better go away." + +"What did Edward say?" + +"That he would stay here as long as he lived and afterward, too, if +he was a mind to, and he would like to see Henry get him out; and +then--" + +"What?" + +"Then he laughed." + +"What did Henry say." + +"I didn't hear him say anything, but--" + +"But what?" + +"I saw him when he came out of this room." + +"He looked mad?" + +"You've seen him when he looked so." + +Emma nodded; the expression of horror on her face had deepened. + +"Do you remember that time he killed the cat because she had +scratched him?" + +"Yes. Don't!" + +Then Caroline reentered the room. She went up to the stove in +which a wood fire was burning--it was a cold, gloomy day of fall-- +and she warmed her hands, which were reddened from recent washing +in cold water. + +Mrs. Brigham looked at her and hesitated. She glanced at the door, +which was still ajar, as it did not easily shut, being still +swollen with the damp weather of the summer. She rose and pushed +it together with a sharp thud which jarred the house. Rebecca +started painfully with a half exclamation. Caroline looked at her +disapprovingly. + +"It is time you controlled your nerves, Rebecca," said she. + +"I can't help it," replied Rebecca with almost a wail. "I am +nervous. There's enough to make me so, the Lord knows." + +"What do you mean by that?" asked Caroline with her old air of +sharp suspicion, and something between challenge and dread of its +being met. + +Rebecca shrank. + +"Nothing," said she. + +"Then I wouldn't keep speaking in such a fashion." + +Emma, returning from the closed door, said imperiously that it +ought to be fixed, it shut so hard. + +"It will shrink enough after we have had the fire a few days," +replied Caroline. "If anything is done to it it will be too small; +there will be a crack at the sill." + +"I think Henry ought to be ashamed of himself for talking as he did +to Edward," said Mrs. Brigham abruptly, but in an almost inaudible +voice. + +"Hush!" said Caroline, with a glance of actual fear at the closed +door. + +"Nobody can hear with the door shut." + +"He must have heard it shut, and--" + +"Well, I can say what I want to before he comes down, and I am not +afraid of him." + +"I don't know who is afraid of him! What reason is there for +anybody to be afraid of Henry?" demanded Caroline. + +Mrs. Brigham trembled before her sister's look. Rebecca gasped +again. "There isn't any reason, of course. Why should there be?" + +"I wouldn't speak so, then. Somebody might overhear you and think +it was queer. Miranda Joy is in the south parlor sewing, you +know." + +"I thought she went upstairs to stitch on the machine." + +"She did, but she has come down again." + +"Well, she can't hear." + +"I say again I think Henry ought to be ashamed of himself. I +shouldn't think he'd ever get over it, having words with poor +Edward the very night before he died. Edward was enough sight +better disposition than Henry, with all his faults. I always +thought a great deal of poor Edward, myself." + +Mrs. Brigham passed a large fluff of handkerchief across her eyes; +Rebecca sobbed outright. + +"Rebecca," said Caroline admonishingly, keeping her mouth stiff and +swallowing determinately. + +"I never heard him speak a cross word, unless he spoke cross to +Henry that last night. I don't know, but he did from what Rebecca +overheard," said Emma. + +"Not so much cross as sort of soft, and sweet, and aggravating," +sniffled Rebecca. + +"He never raised his voice," said Caroline; "but he had his way." + +"He had a right to in this case." + +"Yes, he did." + +"He had as much of a right here as Henry," sobbed Rebecca, "and now +he's gone, and he will never be in this home that poor father left +him and the rest of us again." + +"What do you really think ailed Edward?" asked Emma in hardly more +than a whisper. She did not look at her sister. + +Caroline sat down in a nearby armchair, and clutched the arms +convulsively until her thin knuckles whitened. + +"I told you," said she. + +Rebecca held her handkerchief over her mouth, and looked at them +above it with terrified, streaming eyes. + +"I know you said that he had terrible pains in his stomach, and had +spasms, but what do you think made him have them?" + +"Henry called it gastric trouble. You know Edward has always had +dyspepsia." + +Mrs. Brigham hesitated a moment. "Was there any talk of an-- +examination?" said she. + +Then Caroline turned on her fiercely. + +"No," said she in a terrible voice. "No." + +The three sisters' souls seemed to meet on one common ground of +terrified understanding through their eyes. The old-fashioned +latch of the door was heard to rattle, and a push from without made +the door shake ineffectually. "It's Henry," Rebecca sighed rather +than whispered. Mrs. Brigham settled herself after a noiseless +rush across the floor into her rocking-chair again, and was swaying +back and forth with her head comfortably leaning back, when the +door at last yielded and Henry Glynn entered. He cast a covertly +sharp, comprehensive glance at Mrs. Brigham with her elaborate +calm; at Rebecca quietly huddled in the corner of the sofa with her +handkerchief to her face and only one small reddened ear as +attentive as a dog's uncovered and revealing her alertness for his +presence; at Caroline sitting with a strained composure in her +armchair by the stove. She met his eyes quite firmly with a look +of inscrutable fear, and defiance of the fear and of him. + +Henry Glynn looked more like this sister than the others. Both had +the same hard delicacy of form and feature, both were tall and +almost emaciated, both had a sparse growth of gray blond hair far +back from high intellectual foreheads, both had an almost noble +aquilinity of feature. They confronted each other with the +pitiless immovability of two statues in whose marble lineaments +emotions were fixed for all eternity. + +Then Henry Glynn smiled and the smile transformed his face. He +looked suddenly years younger, and an almost boyish recklessness +and irresolution appeared in his face. He flung himself into a +chair with a gesture which was bewildering from its incongruity +with his general appearance. He leaned his head back, flung one +leg over the other, and looked laughingly at Mrs. Brigham. + +"I declare, Emma, you grow younger every year," he said. + +She flushed a little, and her placid mouth widened at the corners. +She was susceptible to praise. + +"Our thoughts to-day ought to belong to the one of us who will +NEVER grow older," said Caroline in a hard voice. + +Henry looked at her, still smiling. "Of course, we none of us +forget that," said he, in a deep, gentle voice, "but we have to +speak to the living, Caroline, and I have not seen Emma for a long +time, and the living are as dear as the dead." + +"Not to me," said Caroline. + +She rose, and went abruptly out of the room again. Rebecca also +rose and hurried after her, sobbing loudly. + +Henry looked slowly after them. + +"Caroline is completely unstrung," said he. Mrs. Brigham rocked. A +confidence in him inspired by his manner was stealing over her. Out +of that confidence she spoke quite easily and naturally. + +"His death was very sudden," said she. + +Henry's eyelids quivered slightly but his gaze was unswerving. + +"Yes," said he; "it was very sudden. He was sick only a few +hours." + +"What did you call it?" + +"Gastric." + +"You did not think of an examination?" + +"There was no need. I am perfectly certain as to the cause of his +death." + +Suddenly Mrs. Brigham felt a creep as of some live horror over her +very soul. Her flesh prickled with cold, before an inflection of +his voice. She rose, tottering on weak knees. + +"Where are you going?" asked Henry in a strange, breathless voice. + +Mrs. Brigham said something incoherent about some sewing which she +had to do, some black for the funeral, and was out of the room. She +went up to the front chamber which she occupied. Caroline was +there. She went close to her and took her hands, and the two +sisters looked at each other. + +"Don't speak, don't, I won't have it!" said Caroline finally in an +awful whisper. + +"I won't," replied Emma. + +That afternoon the three sisters were in the study, the large front +room on the ground floor across the hall from the south parlor, +when the dusk deepened. + +Mrs. Brigham was hemming some black material. She sat close to the +west window for the waning light. At last she laid her work on her +lap. + +"It's no use, I cannot see to sew another stitch until we have a +light," said she. + +Caroline, who was writing some letters at the table, turned to +Rebecca, in her usual place on the sofa. + +"Rebecca, you had better get a lamp," she said. + +Rebecca started up; even in the dusk her face showed her agitation. + +"It doesn't seem to me that we need a lamp quite yet," she said in +a piteous, pleading voice like a child's. + +"Yes, we do," returned Mrs. Brigham peremptorily. "We must have a +light. I must finish this to-night or I can't go to the funeral, +and I can't see to sew another stitch." + +"Caroline can see to write letters, and she is farther from the +window than you are," said Rebecca. + +"Are you trying to save kerosene or are you lazy, Rebecca Glynn?" +cried Mrs. Brigham. "I can go and get the light myself, but I have +this work all in my lap." + +Caroline's pen stopped scratching. + +"Rebecca, we must have the light," said she. + +"Had we better have it in here?" asked Rebecca weakly. + +"Of course! Why not?" cried Caroline sternly. + +"I am sure I don't want to take my sewing into the other room, when +it is all cleaned up for to-morrow," said Mrs. Brigham. + +"Why, I never heard such a to-do about lighting a lamp." + +Rebecca rose and left the room. Presently she entered with a lamp-- +a large one with a white porcelain shade. She set it on a table, +an old-fashioned card-table which was placed against the opposite +wall from the window. That wall was clear of bookcases and books, +which were only on three sides of the room. That opposite wall was +taken up with three doors, the one small space being occupied by +the table. Above the table on the old-fashioned paper, of a white +satin gloss, traversed by an indeterminate green scroll, hung quite +high a small gilt and black-framed ivory miniature taken in her +girlhood of the mother of the family. When the lamp was set on the +table beneath it, the tiny pretty face painted on the ivory seemed +to gleam out with a look of intelligence. + +"What have you put that lamp over there for?" asked Mrs. Brigham, +with more of impatience than her voice usually revealed. "Why +didn't you set it in the hall and have done with it. Neither +Caroline nor I can see if it is on that table." + +"I thought perhaps you would move," replied Rebecca hoarsely. + +"If I do move, we can't both sit at that table. Caroline has her +paper all spread around. Why don't you set the lamp on the study +table in the middle of the room, then we can both see?" + +Rebecca hesitated. Her face was very pale. She looked with an +appeal that was fairly agonizing at her sister Caroline. + +"Why don't you put the lamp on this table, as she says?" asked +Caroline, almost fiercely. "Why do you act so, Rebecca?" + +"I should think you WOULD ask her that," said Mrs. Brigham. "She +doesn't act like herself at all." + +Rebecca took the lamp and set it on the table in the middle of the +room without another word. Then she turned her back upon it +quickly and seated herself on the sofa, and placed a hand over her +eyes as if to shade them, and remained so. + +"Does the light hurt your eyes, and is that the reason why you +didn't want the lamp?" asked Mrs. Brigham kindly. + +"I always like to sit in the dark," replied Rebecca chokingly. Then +she snatched her handkerchief hastily from her pocket and began to +weep. Caroline continued to write, Mrs. Brigham to sew. + +Suddenly Mrs. Brigham as she sewed glanced at the opposite wall. +The glance became a steady stare. She looked intently, her work +suspended in her hands. Then she looked away again and took a few +more stitches, then she looked again, and again turned to her task. +At last she laid her work in her lap and stared concentratedly. She +looked from the wall around the room, taking note of the various +objects; she looked at the wall long and intently. Then she turned +to her sisters. + +"What IS that?" said she. + +"What?" asked Caroline harshly; her pen scratched loudly across the +paper. + +Rebecca gave one of her convulsive gasps. + +"That strange shadow on the wall," replied Mrs. Brigham. + +Rebecca sat with her face hidden: Caroline dipped her pen in the +inkstand. + +"Why don't you turn around and look?" asked Mrs. Brigham in a +wondering and somewhat aggrieved way. + +"I am in a hurry to finish this letter, if Mrs. Wilson Ebbit is +going to get word in time to come to the funeral," replied Caroline +shortly. + +Mrs. Brigham rose, her work slipping to the floor, and she began +walking around the room, moving various articles of furniture, with +her eyes on the shadow. + +Then suddenly she shrieked out: + +"Look at this awful shadow! What is it? Caroline, look, look! +Rebecca, look! WHAT IS IT?" + +All Mrs. Brigham's triumphant placidity was gone. Her handsome +face was livid with horror. She stood stiffly pointing at the +shadow. + +"Look!" said she, pointing her finger at it. "Look! What is it?" + +Then Rebecca burst out in a wild wail after a shuddering glance at +the wall: + +"Oh, Caroline, there it is again! There it is again!" + +"Caroline Glynn, you look!" said Mrs. Brigham. "Look! What is +that dreadful shadow?" + +Caroline rose, turned, and stood confronting the wall. + +"How should I know?" she said. + +"It has been there every night since he died," cried Rebecca. + +"Every night?" + +"Yes. He died Thursday and this is Saturday; that makes three +nights," said Caroline rigidly. She stood as if holding herself +calm with a vise of concentrated will. + +"It--it looks like--like--" stammered Mrs. Brigham in a tone of +intense horror. + +"I know what it looks like well enough," said Caroline. "I've got +eyes in my head." + +"It looks like Edward," burst out Rebecca in a sort of frenzy of +fear. "Only--" + +"Yes, it does," assented Mrs. Brigham, whose horror-stricken tone +matched her sister's, "only-- Oh, it is awful! What is it, +Caroline?" + +"I ask you again, how should I know?" replied Caroline. "I see it +there like you. How should I know any more than you?" + +"It MUST be something in the room," said Mrs. Brigham, staring +wildly around. + +"We moved everything in the room the first night it came," said +Rebecca; "it is not anything in the room." + +Caroline turned upon her with a sort of fury. "Of course it is +something in the room," said she. "How you act! What do you mean +by talking so? Of course it is something in the room." + +"Of course, it is," agreed Mrs. Brigham, looking at Caroline +suspiciously. "Of course it must be. It is only a coincidence. It +just happens so. Perhaps it is that fold of the window curtain +that makes it. It must be something in the room." + +"It is not anything in the room," repeated Rebecca with obstinate +horror. + +The door opened suddenly and Henry Glynn entered. He began to +speak, then his eyes followed the direction of the others'. He +stood stock still staring at the shadow on the wall. It was life +size and stretched across the white parallelogram of a door, half +across the wall space on which the picture hung. + +"What is that?" he demanded in a strange voice. + +"It must be due to something in the room, Mrs. Brigham said +faintly. + +"It is not due to anything in the room," said Rebecca again with +the shrill insistency of terror. + +"How you act, Rebecca Glynn," said Caroline. + +Henry Glynn stood and stared a moment longer. His face showed a +gamut of emotions--horror, conviction, then furious incredulity. +Suddenly he began hastening hither and thither about the room. He +moved the furniture with fierce jerks, turning ever to see the +effect upon the shadow on the wall. Not a line of its terrible +outlines wavered. + +"It must be something in the room!" he declared in a voice which +seemed to snap like a lash. + +His face changed. The inmost secrecy of his nature seemed evident +until one almost lost sight of his lineaments. Rebecca stood close +to her sofa, regarding him with woeful, fascinated eyes. Mrs. +Brigham clutched Caroline's hand. They both stood in a corner out +of his way. For a few moments he raged about the room like a caged +wild animal. He moved every piece of furniture; when the moving of +a piece did not affect the shadow, he flung it to the floor, his +sisters watching. + +Then suddenly he desisted. He laughed and began straightening the +furniture which he had flung down. + +"What an absurdity," he said easily. "Such a to-do about a +shadow." + +"That's so," assented Mrs. Brigham, in a scared voice which she +tried to make natural. As she spoke she lifted a chair near her. + +"I think you have broken the chair that Edward was so fond of," +said Caroline. + +Terror and wrath were struggling for expression on her face. Her +mouth was set, her eyes shrinking. Henry lifted the chair with a +show of anxiety. + +"Just as good as ever," he said pleasantly. He laughed again, +looking at his sisters. "Did I scare you?" he said. "I should +think you might be used to me by this time. You know my way of +wanting to leap to the bottom of a mystery, and that shadow does +look--queer, like--and I thought if there was any way of accounting +for it I would like to without any delay." + +"You don't seem to have succeeded," remarked Caroline dryly, with a +slight glance at the wall. + +Henry's eyes followed hers and he quivered perceptibly. + +"Oh, there is no accounting for shadows," he said, and he laughed +again. "A man is a fool to try to account for shadows." + +Then the supper bell rang, and they all left the room, but Henry +kept his back to the wall, as did, indeed, the others. + +Mrs. Brigham pressed close to Caroline as she crossed the hall. "He +looked like a demon!" she breathed in her ear. + +Henry led the way with an alert motion like a boy; Rebecca brought +up the rear; she could scarcely walk, her knees trembled so. + +"I can't sit in that room again this evening," she whispered to +Caroline after supper. + +"Very well, we will sit in the south room," replied Caroline. "I +think we will sit in the south parlor," she said aloud; "it isn't +as damp as the study, and I have a cold." + +So they all sat in the south room with their sewing. Henry read +the newspaper, his chair drawn close to the lamp on the table. +About nine o'clock he rose abruptly and crossed the hall to the +study. The three sisters looked at one another. Mrs. Brigham +rose, folded her rustling skirts compactly around her, and began +tiptoeing toward the door. + +"What are you going to do?" inquired Rebecca agitatedly. + +"I am going to see what he is about," replied Mrs. Brigham +cautiously. + +She pointed as she spoke to the study door across the hall; it was +ajar. Henry had striven to pull it together behind him, but it had +somehow swollen beyond the limit with curious speed. It was still +ajar and a streak of light showed from top to bottom. The hall +lamp was not lit. + +"You had better stay where you are," said Caroline with guarded +sharpness. + +"I am going to see," repeated Mrs. Brigham firmly. + +Then she folded her skirts so tightly that her bulk with its +swelling curves was revealed in a black silk sheath, and she went +with a slow toddle across the hall to the study door. She stood +there, her eye at the crack. + +In the south room Rebecca stopped sewing and sat watching with +dilated eyes. Caroline sewed steadily. What Mrs. Brigham, +standing at the crack in the study door, saw was this: + +Henry Glynn, evidently reasoning that the source of the strange +shadow must be between the table on which the lamp stood and the +wall, was making systematic passes and thrusts all over and through +the intervening space with an old sword which had belonged to his +father. Not an inch was left unpierced. He seemed to have divided +the space into mathematical sections. He brandished the sword with +a sort of cold fury and calculation; the blade gave out flashes of +light, the shadow remained unmoved. Mrs. Brigham, watching, felt +herself cold with horror. + +Finally Henry ceased and stood with the sword in hand and raised as +if to strike, surveying the shadow on the wall threateningly. Mrs. +Brigham toddled back across the hall and shut the south room door +behind her before she related what she had seen. + +"He looked like a demon!" she said again. "Have you got any of +that old wine in the house, Caroline? I don't feel as if I could +stand much more." + +Indeed, she looked overcome. Her handsome placid face was worn and +strained and pale. + +"Yes, there's plenty," said Caroline; "you can have some when you +go to bed." + +"I think we had all better take some," said Mrs. Brigham. "Oh, my +God, Caroline, what--" + +"Don't ask and don't speak," said Caroline. + +"No, I am not going to," replied Mrs. Brigham; "but--" + +Rebecca moaned aloud. + +"What are you doing that for?" asked Caroline harshly. + +"Poor Edward," returned Rebecca. + +"That is all you have to groan for," said Caroline. "There is +nothing else." + +"I am going to bed," said Mrs. Brigham. "I sha'n't be able to be +at the funeral if I don't." + +Soon the three sisters went to their chambers and the south parlor +was deserted. Caroline called to Henry in the study to put out the +light before he came upstairs. They had been gone about an hour +when he came into the room bringing the lamp which had stood in the +study. He set it on the table and waited a few minutes, pacing up +and down. His face was terrible, his fair complexion showed livid; +his blue eyes seemed dark blanks of awful reflections. + +Then he took the lamp up and returned to the library. He set the +lamp on the centre table, and the shadow sprang out on the wall. +Again he studied the furniture and moved it about, but +deliberately, with none of his former frenzy. Nothing affected the +shadow. Then he returned to the south room with the lamp and again +waited. Again he returned to the study and placed the lamp on the +table, and the shadow sprang out upon the wall. It was midnight +before he went upstairs. Mrs. Brigham and the other sisters, who +could not sleep, heard him. + +The next day was the funeral. That evening the family sat in the +south room. Some relatives were with them. Nobody entered the +study until Henry carried a lamp in there after the others had +retired for the night. He saw again the shadow on the wall leap to +an awful life before the light. + +The next morning at breakfast Henry Glynn announced that he had to +go to the city for three days. The sisters looked at him with +surprise. He very seldom left home, and just now his practice had +been neglected on account of Edward's death. He was a physician. + +"How can you leave your patients now?" asked Mrs. Brigham +wonderingly. + +"I don't know how to, but there is no other way," replied Henry +easily. "I have had a telegram from Doctor Mitford." + +"Consultation?" inquired Mrs. Brigham. + +"I have business," replied Henry. + +Doctor Mitford was an old classmate of his who lived in a +neighboring city and who occasionally called upon him in the case +of a consultation. + +After he had gone Mrs. Brigham said to Caroline that after all +Henry had not said that he was going to consult with Doctor +Mitford, and she thought it very strange. + +"Everything is very strange," said Rebecca with a shudder. + +"What do you mean?" inquired Caroline sharply. + +"Nothing," replied Rebecca. + +Nobody entered the library that day, nor the next, nor the next. +The third day Henry was expected home, but he did not arrive and +the last train from the city had come. + +"I call it pretty queer work," said Mrs. Brigham. "The idea of a +doctor leaving his patients for three days anyhow, at such a time +as this, and I know he has some very sick ones; he said so. And +the idea of a consultation lasting three days! There is no sense +in it, and NOW he has not come. I don't understand it, for my +part." + +"I don't either," said Rebecca. + +They were all in the south parlor. There was no light in the study +opposite, and the door was ajar. + +Presently Mrs. Brigham rose--she could not have told why; something +seemed to impel her, some will outside her own. She went out of +the room, again wrapping her rustling skirts around that she might +pass noiselessly, and began pushing at the swollen door of the +study. + +"She has not got any lamp," said Rebecca in a shaking voice. + +Caroline, who was writing letters, rose again, took a lamp (there +were two in the room) and followed her sister. Rebecca had risen, +but she stood trembling, not venturing to follow. + +The doorbell rang, but the others did not hear it; it was on the +south door on the other side of the house from the study. Rebecca, +after hesitating until the bell rang the second time, went to the +door; she remembered that the servant was out. + +Caroline and her sister Emma entered the study. Caroline set the +lamp on the table. They looked at the wall. "Oh, my God," gasped +Mrs. Brigham, "there are--there are TWO--shadows." The sisters +stood clutching each other, staring at the awful things on the +wall. Then Rebecca came in, staggering, with a telegram in her +hand. "Here is--a telegram," she gasped. "Henry is--dead." + + +From "The Wind in the Rosebush," by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. +Copyright, 1903, by Doubleday, Page & Company. + + + +Melville Davisson Post + + +Introduction to The Corpus Delicti + +The high ground of the field of crime has not been explored; it has +not even been entered. The book stalls have been filled to +weariness with tales based upon plans whereby the DETECTIVE, or +FERRETING power of the State might be baffled. But, prodigious +marvel! no writer has attempted to construct tales based upon plans +whereby the PUNISHING power of the State might be baffled. + +The distinction, if one pauses for a moment to consider it, is +striking. It is possible, even easy, deliberately to plan crimes +so that the criminal agent and the criminal agency cannot be +detected. Is it possible to plan and execute wrongs in such a +manner that they will have all the effect and all the resulting +profit of desperate crimes and yet not be crimes before the law? + +We are prone to forget that the law is no perfect structure, that +it is simply the result of human labor and human genius, and that +whatever laws human ingenuity can create for the protection of men, +those same laws human ingenuity can evade. The Spirit of Evil is +no dwarf; he has developed equally with the Spirit of Good. + +All wrongs are not crimes. Indeed only those wrongs are crimes in +which certain technical elements are present. The law provides a +Procrustean standard for all crimes. Thus a wrong, to become +criminal, must fit exactly into the measure laid down by the law, +else it is no crime; if it varies never so little from the legal +measure, the law must, and will, refuse to regard it as criminal, +no matter how injurious a wrong it may be. There is no measure of +morality, or equity, or common right that can be applied to the +individual case. The gauge of the law is iron-bound. The wrong +measured by this gauge is either a crime or it is not. There is no +middle ground. + +Hence is it, that if one knows well the technicalities of the law, +one may commit horrible wrongs that will yield all the gain and all +the resulting effect of the highest crimes, and yet the wrongs +perpetrated will constitute no one of the crimes described by the +law. Thus the highest crimes, even murder, may be committed in +such manner that although the criminal is known and the law holds +him in custody, yet it cannot punish him. So it happens that in +this year of our Lord of the nineteenth century, the skillful +attorney marvels at the stupidity of the rogue who, committing +crimes by the ordinary methods, subjects himself to unnecessary +peril, when the result which he seeks can easily be attained by +other methods, equally expeditious and without danger of liability +in any criminal tribunal. This is the field into which the author +has ventured, and he believes it to be new and full of interest. + +It may be objected that the writer has prepared here a text-book +for the shrewd knave. To this it is answered that, if he instructs +the enemies, he also warns the friends of law and order; and that +Evil has never yet been stronger because the sun shone on it. + + +[See Lord Hale's Rule, Russell on Crimes. For the law in New York +see 18th N. Y. Reports, 179; also N. Y. Reports, 49, page 137. The +doctrine there laid down obtains in almost every State, with the +possible exception of a few Western States, where the decisions are +muddy.] + + + +The Corpus Delicti + + +I + + +"That man Mason," said Samuel Walcott, "is the mysterious member of +this club. He is more than that; he is the mysterious man of New +York." + +"I was much surprised to see him," answered his companion, Marshall +St. Clair, of the great law firm of Seward, St. Clair & De Muth. +"I had lost track of him since he went to Paris as counsel for the +American stockholders of the Canal Company. When did he come back +to the States?" + +"He turned up suddenly in his ancient haunts about four months +ago," said Walcott, "as grand, gloomy, and peculiar as Napoleon +ever was in his palmiest days. The younger members of the club +call him 'Zanona Redivivus.' He wanders through the house usually +late at night, apparently without noticing anything or anybody. +His mind seems to be deeply and busily at work, leaving his bodily +self to wander as it may happen. Naturally, strange stories are +told of him; indeed, his individuality and his habit of doing some +unexpected thing, and doing it in such a marvelously original +manner that men who are experts at it look on in wonder, cannot +fail to make him an object of interest. + +"He has never been known to play at any game whatever, and yet one +night he sat down to the chess table with old Admiral Du Brey. You +know the Admiral is the great champion since he beat the French and +English officers in the tournament last winter. Well, you also +know that the conventional openings at chess are scientifically and +accurately determined. To the utter disgust of Du Brey, Mason +opened the game with an unheard-of attack from the extremes of the +board. The old Admiral stopped and, in a kindly patronizing way, +pointed out the weak and absurd folly of his move and asked him to +begin again with some one of the safe openings. Mason smiled and +answered that if one had a head that he could trust he should use +it; if not, then it was the part of wisdom to follow blindly the +dead forms of some man who had a head. Du Brey was naturally angry +and set himself to demolish Mason as quickly as possible. The game +was rapid for a few moments. Mason lost piece after piece. His +opening was broken and destroyed and its utter folly apparent to +the lookers-on. The Admiral smiled and the game seemed all one- +sided, when, suddenly, to his utter horror, Du Brey found that his +king was in a trap. The foolish opening had been only a piece of +shrewd strategy. The old Admiral fought and cursed and sacrificed +his pieces, but it was of no use. He was gone. Mason checkmated +him in two moves and arose wearily. + +"'Where in Heaven's name, man,' said the old Admiral, +thunderstruck, 'did you learn that masterpiece?' + +"'Just here,' replied Mason. 'To play chess, one should know his +opponent. How could the dead masters lay down rules by which you +could be beaten, sir? They had never seen you'; and thereupon he +turned and left the room. Of course, St. Clair, such a strange man +would soon become an object of all kinds of mysterious rumors. +Some are true and some are not. At any rate, I know that Mason is +an unusual man with a gigantic intellect. Of late he seems to have +taken a strange fancy to me. In fact, I seem to be the only member +of the club that he will talk with, and I confess that he startles +and fascinates me. He is an original genius, St. Clair, of an +unusual order." + +"I recall vividly," said the younger man, "that before Mason went +to Paris he was considered one of the greatest lawyers of this city +and he was feared and hated by the bar at large. He came here, I +believe, from Virginia and began with the high-grade criminal +practice. He soon became famous for his powerful and ingenious +defenses. He found holes in the law through which his clients +escaped, holes that by the profession at large were not suspected +to exist, and that frequently astonished the judges. His ability +caught the attention of the great corporations. They tested him +and found in him learning and unlimited resources. He pointed out +methods by which they could evade obnoxious statutes, by which they +could comply with the apparent letter of the law and yet violate +its spirit, and advised them well in that most important of all +things, just how far they could bend the law without breaking it. +At the time he left for Paris he had a vast clientage and was in +the midst of a brilliant career. The day he took passage from New +York, the bar lost sight of him. No matter how great a man may be, +the wave soon closes over him in a city like this. In a few years +Mason was forgotten. Now only the older practitioners would recall +him, and they would do so with hatred and bitterness. He was a +tireless, savage, uncompromising fighter, always a recluse." + +"Well," said Walcott, "he reminds me of a great world-weary cynic, +transplanted from some ancient mysterious empire. When I come into +the man's presence I feel instinctively the grip of his intellect. +I tell you, St. Clair, Randolph Mason is the mysterious man of New +York." + +At this moment a messenger boy came into the room and handed Mr. +Walcott a telegram. "St. Clair," said that gentleman, rising, "the +directors of the Elevated are in session, and we must hurry." The +two men put on their coats and left the house. + +Samuel Walcott was not a club man after the manner of the Smart +Set, and yet he was in fact a club man. He was a bachelor in the +latter thirties, and resided in a great silent house on the avenue. +On the street he was a man of substance, shrewd and progressive, +backed by great wealth. He had various corporate interests in the +larger syndicates, but the basis and foundation of his fortune was +real estate. His houses on the avenue were the best possible +property, and his elevator row in the importers' quarter was indeed +a literal gold mine. It was known that, many years before, his +grandfather had died and left him the property, which, at that +time, was of no great value. Young Walcott had gone out into the +gold-fields and had been lost sight of and forgotten. Ten years +afterwards he had turned up suddenly in New York and taken +possession of his property, then vastly increased in value. His +speculations were almost phenomenally successful, and, backed by +the now enormous value of his real property, he was soon on a level +with the merchant princes. His judgment was considered sound, and +he had the full confidence of his business associates for safety +and caution. Fortune heaped up riches around him with a lavish +hand. He was unmarried and the halo of his wealth caught the keen +eye of the matron with marriageable daughters. He was invited out, +caught by the whirl of society, and tossed into its maelstrom. In +a measure he reciprocated. He kept horses and a yacht. His +dinners at Delmonico's and the club were above reproach. But with +all he was a silent man with a shadow deep in his eyes, and seemed +to court the society of his fellows, not because he loved them, but +because he either hated or feared solitude. For years the strategy +of the match-maker had gone gracefully afield, but Fate is +relentless. If she shields the victim from the traps of men, it is +not because she wishes him to escape, but because she is pleased to +reserve him for her own trap. So it happened that, when Virginia +St. Clair assisted Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant at her midwinter +reception, this same Samuel Walcott fell deeply and hopelessly and +utterly in love, and it was so apparent to the beaten generals +present, that Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant applauded herself, so to +speak, with encore after encore. It was good to see this +courteous, silent man literally at the feet of the young debutante. +He was there of right. Even the mothers of marriageable daughters +admitted that. The young girl was brown-haired, brown-eyed, and +tall enough, said the experts, and of the blue blood royal, with +all the grace, courtesy, and inbred genius of such princely +heritage. + +Perhaps it was objected by the censors of the Smart Set that Miss +St. Clair's frankness and honesty were a trifle old-fashioned, and +that she was a shadowy bit of a Puritan; and perhaps it was of +these same qualities that Samuel Walcott received his hurt. At any +rate the hurt was there and deep, and the new actor stepped up into +the old time-worn, semi-tragic drama, and began his role with a +tireless, utter sincerity that was deadly dangerous if he lost. + + +II + + +Perhaps a week after the conversation between St. Clair and +Walcott, Randolph Mason stood in the private waiting-room of the +club with his hands behind his back. + +He was a man apparently in the middle forties; tall and reasonably +broad across the shoulders; muscular without being either stout or +lean. His hair was thin and of a brown color, with erratic streaks +of gray. His forehead was broad and high and of a faint reddish +color. His eyes were restless inky black, and not over-large. The +nose was big and muscular and bowed. The eyebrows were black and +heavy, almost bushy. There were heavy furrows, running from the +nose downward and outward to the corners of the mouth. The mouth +was straight and the jaw was heavy, and square. + +Looking at the face of Randolph Mason from above, the expression in +repose was crafty and cynical; viewed from below upward, it was +savage and vindictive, almost brutal; while from the front, if +looked squarely in the face, the stranger was fascinated by the +animation of the man and at once concluded that his expression was +fearless and sneering. He was evidently of Southern extraction and +a man of unusual power. + +A fire smoldered on the hearth. It was a crisp evening in the +early fall, and with that far-off touch of melancholy which ever +heralds the coming winter, even in the midst of a city. The man's +face looked tired and ugly. His long white hands were clasped +tight together. His entire figure and face wore every mark of +weakness and physical exhaustion; but his eyes contradicted. They +were red and restless. + +In the private dining-room the dinner party was in the best of +spirits. Samuel Walcott was happy. Across the table from him was +Miss Virginia St. Clair, radiant, a tinge of color in her cheeks. +On either side, Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant and Marshall St. Clair were +brilliant and lighthearted. Walcott looked at the young girl and +the measure of his worship was full. He wondered for the +thousandth time how she could possibly love him and by what earthly +miracle she had come to accept him, and how it would be always to +have her across the table from him, his own table in his own house. + +They were about to rise from the table when one of the waiters +entered the room and handed Walcott an envelope. He thrust it +quickly into his pocket. In the confusion of rising the others did +not notice him, but his face was ash white and his hands trembled +violently as he placed the wraps around the bewitching shoulders of +Miss St. Clair. + +"Marshall," he said, and despite the powerful effort his voice was +hollow, "you will see the ladies safely cared for, I am called to +attend a grave matter." + +"All right, Walcott," answered the young man, with cheery good +nature, "you are too serious, old man, trot along." + +"The poor dear," murmured Mrs. Steuvisant, after Walcott had helped +them to the carriage and turned to go up the steps of the club,-- +"The poor dear is hard hit, and men are such funny creatures when +they are hard hit." + +Samuel Walcott, as his fate would, went direct to the private +writing-room and opened the door. The lights were not turned on +and in the dark he did not see Mason motionless by the mantel- +shelf. He went quickly across the room to the writing-table, +turned on one of the lights, and, taking the envelope from his +pocket, tore it open. Then he bent down by the light to read the +contents. As his eyes ran over the paper, his jaw fell. The skin +drew away from his cheekbones and his face seemed literally to sink +in. His knees gave way under him and he would have gone down in a +heap had it not been for Mason's long arms that closed around him +and held him up. The human economy is ever mysterious. The moment +the new danger threatened, the latent power of the man as an +animal, hidden away in the centers of intelligence, asserted +itself. His hand clutched the paper and, with a half slide, he +turned in Mason's arms. For a moment he stared up at the ugly man +whose thin arms felt like wire ropes. + +"You are under the dead-fall, aye," said Mason. "The cunning of my +enemy is sublime." + +"Your enemy?" gasped Walcott. "When did you come into it? How in +God's name did you know it? How your enemy?" + +Mason looked down at the wide bulging eyes of the man. + +"Who should know better than I?" he said. "Haven't I broken +through all the traps and plots that she could set?" + +"She? She trap you?" The man's voice was full of horror. + +"The old schemer," muttered Mason. "The cowardly old schemer, to +strike in the back; but we can beat her. She did not count on my +helping you--I, who know her so well." + +Mason's face was red, and his eyes burned. In the midst of it all +he dropped his hands and went over to the fire. Samuel Walcott +arose, panting, and stood looking at Mason, with his hands behind +him on the table. The naturally strong nature and the rigid school +in which the man had been trained presently began to tell. His +composure in part returned and he thought rapidly. What did this +strange man know? Was he simply making shrewd guesses, or had he +some mysterious knowledge of this matter? Walcott could not know +that Mason meant only Fate, that he believed her to be his great +enemy. Walcott had never before doubted his own ability to meet +any emergency. This mighty jerk had carried him off his feet. He +was unstrung and panic-stricken. At any rate this man had promised +help. He would take it. He put the paper and envelope carefully +into his pocket, smoothed out his rumpled coat, and going over to +Mason touched him on the shoulder. + +"Come," he said, "if you are to help me we must go." + +The man turned and followed him without a word. In the hall Mason +put on his hat and overcoat, and the two went out into the street. +Walcott hailed a cab, and the two were driven to his house on the +avenue. Walcott took out his latchkey, opened the door, and led +the way into the library. He turned on the light and motioned +Mason to seat himself at the table. Then he went into another room +and presently returned with a bundle of papers and a decanter of +brandy. He poured out a glass of the liquor and offered it to +Mason. The man shook his head. Walcott poured the contents of the +glass down his own throat. Then he set the decanter down and drew +up a chair on the side of the table opposite Mason. + +"Sir," said Walcott, in a voice deliberate, indeed, but as hollow +as a sepulcher, "I am done for. God has finally gathered up the +ends of the net, and it is knotted tight." + +"Am I not here to help you?" said Mason, turning savagely. "I can +beat Fate. Give me the details of her trap." + +He bent forward and rested his arms on the table. His streaked +gray hair was rumpled and on end, and his face was ugly. For a +moment Walcott did not answer. He moved a little into the shadow; +then he spread the bundle of old yellow papers out before him. + +"To begin with," he said, "I am a living lie, a gilded crime-made +sham, every bit of me. There is not an honest piece anywhere. It +is all lie. I am a liar and a thief before men. The property +which I possess is not mine, but stolen from a dead man. The very +name which I bear is not my own, but is the bastard child of a +crime. I am more than all that--I am a murderer; a murderer before +the law; a murderer before God; and worse than a murderer before +the pure woman whom I love more than anything that God could make." + +He paused for a moment and wiped the perspiration from his face. + +"Sir," said Mason, "this is all drivel, infantile drivel. What you +are is of no importance. How to get out is the problem, how to get +out." + +Samuel Walcott leaned forward, poured out a glass of brandy and +swallowed it. + +"Well," he said, speaking slowly, "my right name is Richard Warren. +In the spring of 1879 I came to New York and fell in with the real +Samuel Walcott, a young man with a little money and some property +which his grandfather had left him. We became friends, and +concluded to go to the far west together. Accordingly we scraped +together what money we could lay our hands on, and landed in the +gold-mining regions of California. We were young and +inexperienced, and our money went rapidly. One April morning we +drifted into a little shack camp, away up in the Sierra Nevadas, +called Hell's Elbow. Here we struggled and starved for perhaps a +year. Finally, in utter desperation, Walcott married the daughter +of a Mexican gambler, who ran an eating house and a poker joint. +With them we lived from hand to mouth in a wild God-forsaken way +for several years. After a time the woman began to take a strange +fancy to me. Walcott finally noticed it, and grew jealous. + +"One night, in a drunken brawl, we quarreled, and I killed him. It +was late at night, and, beside the woman, there were four of us in +the poker room,--the Mexican gambler, a half-breed devil called +Cherubim Pete, Walcott, and myself. When Walcott fell, the half- +breed whipped out his weapon, and fired at me across the table; but +the woman, Nina San Croix, struck his arm, and, instead of killing +me, as he intended, the bullet mortally wounded her father, the +Mexican gambler. I shot the half-breed through the forehead, and +turned round, expecting the woman to attack me. On the contrary, +she pointed to the window, and bade me wait for her on the cross +trail below. + +"It was fully three hours later before the woman joined me at the +place indicated. She had a bag of gold dust, a few jewels that +belonged to her father, and a package of papers. I asked her why +she had stayed behind so long, and she replied that the men were +not killed outright, and that she had brought a priest to them and +waited until they had died. This was the truth, but not all the +truth. Moved by superstition or foresight, the woman had induced +the priest to take down the sworn statements of the two dying men, +seal it, and give it to her. This paper she brought with her. All +this I learned afterwards. At the time I knew nothing of this +damning evidence. + +"We struck out together for the Pacific coast. The country was +lawless. The privations we endured were almost past belief. At +times the woman exhibited cunning and ability that were almost +genius; and through it all, often in the very fingers of death, her +devotion to me never wavered. It was doglike, and seemed to be her +only object on earth. When we reached San Francisco, the woman put +these papers into my hands." Walcott took up the yellow package, +and pushed it across the table to Mason. + +"She proposed that I assume Walcott's name, and that we come boldly +to New York and claim the property. I examined the papers, found a +copy of the will by which Walcott inherited the property, a bundle +of correspondence, and sufficient documentary evidence to establish +his identity beyond the shadow of a doubt. Desperate gambler as I +now was, I quailed before the daring plan of Nina San Croix. I +urged that I, Richard Warren, would be known, that the attempted +fraud would be detected and would result in investigation, and +perhaps unearth the whole horrible matter. + +"The woman pointed out how much I resembled Walcott, what vast +changes ten years of such life as we had led would naturally be +expected to make in men, how utterly impossible it would be to +trace back the fraud to Walcott's murder at Hell's Elbow, in the +wild passes of the Sierra Nevadas. She bade me remember that we +were both outcasts, both crime-branded, both enemies of man's law +and God's; that we had nothing to lose; we were both sunk to the +bottom. Then she laughed, and said that she had not found me a +coward until now, but that if I had turned chicken-hearted, that +was the end of it, of course. The result was, we sold the gold +dust and jewels in San Francisco, took on such evidences of +civilization as possible, and purchased passage to New York on the +best steamer we could find. + +"I was growing to depend on the bold gambler spirit of this woman, +Nina San Croix; I felt the need of her strong, profligate nature. +She was of a queer breed and a queerer school. Her mother was the +daughter of a Spanish engineer, and had been stolen by the Mexican, +her father. She herself had been raised and educated as best might +be in one of the monasteries along the Rio Grande, and had there +grown to womanhood before her father, fleeing into the mountains of +California, carried her with him. + +"When we landed in New York I offered to announce her as my wife, +but she refused, saying that her presence would excite comment and +perhaps attract the attention of Walcott's relatives. We therefore +arranged that I should go alone into the city, claim the property, +and announce myself as Samuel Walcott, and that she should remain +under cover until such time as we would feel the ground safe under +us. + +"Every detail of the plan was fatally successful. I established my +identity without difficulty and secured the property. It had +increased vastly in value, and I, as Samuel Walcott, soon found +myself a rich man. I went to Nina San Croix in hiding and gave her +a large sum of money, with which she purchased a residence in a +retired part of the city, far up in the northern suburb. Here she +lived secluded and unknown while I remained in the city, living +here as a wealthy bachelor. + +"I did not attempt to abandon the woman, but went to her from time +to time in disguise and under cover of the greatest secrecy. For a +time everything ran smooth, the woman was still devoted to me above +everything else, and thought always of my welfare first and seemed +content to wait so long as I thought best. My business expanded. +I was sought after and consulted and drawn into the higher life of +New York, and more and more felt that the woman was an albatross on +my neck. I put her off with one excuse after another. Finally she +began to suspect me and demanded that I should recognize her as my +wife. I attempted to point out the difficulties. She met them all +by saying that we should both go to Spain, there I could marry her +and we could return to America and drop into my place in society +without causing more than a passing comment. + +"I concluded to meet the matter squarely once for all. I said that +I would convert half of the property into money and give it to her, +but that I would not marry her. She did not fly into a storming +rage as I had expected, but went quietly out of the room and +presently returned with two papers, which she read. One was the +certificate of her marriage to Walcott duly authenticated; the +other was the dying statement of her father, the Mexican gambler, +and of Samuel Walcott, charging me with murder. It was in proper +form and certified by the Jesuit priest. + +"'Now,' she said, sweetly, when she had finished, 'which do you +prefer, to recognize your wife, or to turn all the property over to +Samuel Walcott's widow and hang for his murder?' + +"I was dumfounded and horrified. I saw the trap that I was in and +I consented to do anything she should say if she would only destroy +the papers. This she refused to do. I pleaded with her and +implored her to destroy them. Finally she gave them to me with a +great show of returning confidence, and I tore them into bits and +threw them into the fire. + +"That was three months ago. We arranged to go to Spain and do as +she said. She was to sail this morning and I was to follow. Of +course I never intended to go. I congratulated myself on the fact +that all trace of evidence against me was destroyed and that her +grip was now broken. My plan was to induce her to sail, believing +that I would follow. When she was gone I would marry Miss St. +Clair, and if Nina San Croix should return I would defy her and +lock her up as a lunatic. But I was reckoning like an infernal +ass, to imagine for a moment that I could thus hoodwink such a +woman as Nina San Croix. + +"To-night I received this." Walcott took the envelope from his +pocket and gave it to Mason. "You saw the effect of it; read it +and you will understand why. I felt the death hand when I saw her +writing on the envelope." + +Mason took the paper from the envelope. It was written in Spanish, +and ran: + + +"Greeting to RICHARD WARREN. + +"The great Senor does his little Nina injustice to think she would +go away to Spain and leave him to the beautiful American. She is +not so thoughtless. Before she goes, she shall be, Oh so very +rich! and the dear Senor shall be, Oh so very safe! The Archbishop +and the kind Church hate murderers. + +"NINA SAN CROIX. + +"Of course, fool, the papers you destroyed were copies. + +"N. SAN C." + + +To this was pinned a line in a delicate aristocratic hand saying +that the Archbishop would willingly listen to Madam San Croix's +statement if she would come to him on Friday morning at eleven. + +"You see," said Walcott, desperately, "there is no possible way +out. I know the woman--when she decides to do a thing that is the +end of it. She has decided to do this." + +Mason turned around from the table, stretched out his long legs, +and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. Walcott sat with his +head down, watching Mason hopelessly, almost indifferently, his +face blank and sunken. The ticking of the bronze clock on the +mantel shelf was loud, painfully loud. Suddenly Mason drew his +knees in and bent over, put both his bony hands on the table, and +looked at Walcott. + +"Sir," he said, "this matter is in such shape that there is only +one thing to do. This growth must be cut out at the roots, and cut +out quickly. This is the first fact to be determined, and a fool +would know it. The second fact is that you must do it yourself. +Hired killers are like the grave and the daughters of the horse +leech,--they cry always, 'Give, Give.' They are only palliatives, +not cures. By using them you swap perils. You simply take a stay +of execution at best. The common criminal would know this. These +are the facts of your problem. The master plotters of crime would +see here but two difficulties to meet: + +"A practical method for accomplishing the body of the crime. + +"A cover for the criminal agent. + +"They would see no farther, and attempt to guard no farther. After +they had provided a plan for the killing, and a means by which the +killer could cover his trail and escape from the theater of the +homicide, they would believe all the requirements of the problems +met, and would stop. The greatest, the very giants among them, +have stopped here and have been in great error. + +"In every crime, especially in the great ones, there exists a third +element, preeminently vital. This third element the master +plotters have either overlooked or else have not had the genius to +construct. They plan with rare cunning to baffle the victim. They +plan with vast wisdom, almost genius, to baffle the trailer. But +they fail utterly to provide any plan for baffling the punisher. +Ergo, their plots are fatally defective and often result in ruin. +Hence the vital necessity for providing the third element--the +escape ipso jure." + +Mason arose, walked around the table, and put his hand firmly on +Samuel Walcott's shoulder. "This must be done to-morrow night," he +continued; "you must arrange your business matters to-morrow and +announce that you are going on a yacht cruise, by order of your +physician, and may not return for some weeks. You must prepare +your yacht for a voyage, instruct your men to touch at a certain +point on Staten Island, and wait until six o'clock day after +tomorrow morning. If you do not come aboard by that time, they are +to go to one of the South American ports and remain until further +orders. By this means your absence for an indefinite period will +be explained. You will go to Nina San Croix in the disguise which +you have always used, and from her to the yacht, and by this means +step out of your real status and back into it without leaving +traces. I will come here to-morrow evening and furnish you with +everything that you shall need and give you full and exact +instructions in every particular. These details you must execute +with the greatest care, as they will be vitally essential to the +success of my plan." + +Through it all Walcott had been silent and motionless. Now he +arose, and in his face there must have been some premonition of +protest, for Mason stepped back and put out his hand. "Sir," he +said, with brutal emphasis, "not a word. Remember that you are +only the hand, and the hand does not think." Then he turned around +abruptly and went out of the house. + + +III + + +The place which Samuel Walcott had selected for the residence of +Nina San Croix was far up in the northern suburb of New York. The +place was very old. The lawn was large and ill kept; the house, a +square old-fashioned brick, was set far back from the street, and +partly hidden by trees. Around it all was a rusty iron fence. The +place had the air of genteel ruin, such as one finds in the +Virginias. + +On a Thursday of November, about three o'clock in the afternoon, a +little man, driving a dray, stopped in the alley at the rear of the +house. As he opened the back gate an old negro woman came down the +steps from the kitchen and demanded to know what he wanted. The +drayman asked if the lady of the house was in. The old negro +answered that she was asleep at this hour and could not be seen. + +"That is good," said the little man, "now there won't be any row. +I brought up some cases of wine which she ordered from our house +last week and which the Boss told me to deliver at once, but I +forgot it until to-day. Just let me put it in the cellar now, +Auntie, and don't say a word to the lady about it and she won't +ever know that it was not brought up on time." + +The drayman stopped, fished a silver dollar out of his pocket, and +gave it to the old negro. "There now, Auntie," he said, "my job +depends upon the lady not knowing about this wine; keep it mum." + +"Dat's all right, honey," said the old servant, beaming like a May +morning. "De cellar door is open, carry it all in and put it in de +back part and nobody ain't never going to know how long it has been +in dar." + +The old negro went back into the kitchen and the little man began +to unload the dray. He carried in five wine cases and stowed them +away in the back part of the cellar as the old woman had directed. +Then, after having satisfied himself that no one was watching, he +took from the dray two heavy paper sacks, presumably filled with +flour, and a little bundle wrapped in an old newspaper; these he +carefully hid behind the wine cases in the cellar. After awhile he +closed the door, climbed on his dray, and drove off down the alley. + +About eight o'clock in the evening of the same day, a Mexican +sailor dodged in the front gate and slipped down to the side of the +house. He stopped by the window and tapped on it with his finger. +In a moment a woman opened the door. She was tall, lithe, and +splendidly proportioned, with a dark Spanish face and straight +hair. The man stepped inside. The woman bolted the door and +turned round. + +"Ah," she said, smiling, "it is you, Senor? How good of you!" + +The man started. "Whom else did you expect?" he said quickly. + +"Oh!" laughed the woman, "perhaps the Archbishop." + +"Nina!" said the man, in a broken voice that expressed love, +humility, and reproach. His face was white under the black +sunburn. + +For a moment the woman wavered. A shadow flitted over her eyes, +then she stepped back. "No," she said, "not yet." + +The man walked across to the fire, sank down in a chair, and +covered his face with his hands. The woman stepped up noiselessly +behind him and leaned over the chair. The man was either in great +agony or else he was a superb actor, for the muscles of his neck +twitched violently and his shoulders trembled. + +"Oh," he muttered, as though echoing his thoughts, "I can't do it, +I can't!" + +The woman caught the words and leaped up as though some one had +struck her in the face. She threw back her head. Her nostrils +dilated and her eyes flashed. + +"You can't do it!" she cried. "Then you do love her! You shall do +it! Do you hear me? You shall do it! You killed him! You got +rid of him! but you shall not get rid of me. I have the evidence, +all of it. The Archbishop will have it to-morrow. They shall hang +you! Do you hear me? They shall hang you!" + +The woman's voice rose, it was loud and shrill. The man turned +slowly round without looking up, and stretched out his arms toward +the woman. She stopped and looked down at him. The fire glittered +for a moment and then died out of her eyes, her bosom heaved and +her lips began to tremble. With a cry she flung herself into his +arms, caught him around the neck, and pressed his face up close +against her cheek. + +"Oh! Dick, Dick," she sobbed, "I do love you so! I can't live +without you! Not another hour, Dick! I do want you so much, so +much, Dick!" + +The man shifted his right arm quickly, slipped a great Mexican +knife out of his sleeve, and passed his fingers slowly up the +woman's side until he felt the heart beat under his hand, then he +raised the knife, gripped the handle tight, and drove the keen +blade into the woman's bosom. The hot blood gushed out over his +arm, and down on his leg. The body, warm and limp, slipped down in +his arms. The man got up, pulled out the knife, and thrust it into +a sheath at his belt, unbuttoned the dress, and slipped it off of +the body. As he did this a bundle of papers dropped upon the +floor; these he glanced at hastily and put into his pocket. Then +he took the dead woman up in his arms, went out into the hall, and +started to go up the stairway. The body was relaxed and heavy, and +for that reason difficult to carry. He doubled it up into an awful +heap, with the knees against the chin, and walked slowly and +heavily up the stairs and out into the bathroom. There he laid the +corpse down on the tiled floor. Then he opened the window, closed +the shutters, and lighted the gas. The bathroom was small and +contained an ordinary steel tub, porcelain lined, standing near the +window and raised about six inches above the floor. The sailor +went over to the tub, pried up the metal rim of the outlet with his +knife, removed it, and fitted into its place a porcelain disk which +he took from his pocket; to this disk was attached a long platinum +wire, the end of which he fastened on the outside of the tub. +After he had done this he went back to the body, stripped off its +clothing, put it down in the tub and began to dismember it with the +great Mexican knife. The blade was strong and sharp as a razor. +The man worked rapidly and with the greatest care. + +When he had finally cut the body into as small pieces as possible, +he replaced the knife in its sheath, washed his hands, and went out +of the bathroom and downstairs to the lower hall. The sailor +seemed perfectly familiar with the house. By a side door he passed +into the cellar. There he lighted the gas, opened one of the wine +cases, and, taking up all the bottles that he could conveniently +carry, returned to the bathroom. There he poured the contents into +the tub on the dismembered body, and then returned to the cellar +with the empty bottles, which he replaced in the wine cases. This +he continued to do until all the cases but one were emptied and the +bath tub was more than half full of liquid. This liquid was +sulphuric acid. + +When the sailor returned to the cellar with the last empty wine +bottles, he opened the fifth case, which really contained wine, +took some of it out, and poured a little into each of the empty +bottles in order to remove any possible odor of the sulphuric acid. +Then he turned out the gas and brought up to the bathroom with him +the two paper flour sacks and the little heavy bundle. These sacks +were filled with nitrate of soda. He set them down by the door, +opened the little bundle, and took out two long rubber tubes, each +attached to a heavy gas burner, not unlike the ordinary burners of +a small gas stove. He fastened the tubes to two of the gas jets, +put the burners under the tub, turned the gas on full, and lighted +it. Then he threw into the tub the woman's clothing and the papers +which he had found on her body, after which he took up the two +heavy sacks of nitrate of soda and dropped them carefully into the +sulphuric acid. When he had done this he went quickly out of the +bathroom and closed the door. + +The deadly acids at once attacked the body and began to destroy it; +as the heat increased, the acids boiled and the destructive process +was rapid and awful. From time to time the sailor opened the door +of the bathroom cautiously, and, holding a wet towel over his mouth +and nose, looked in at his horrible work. At the end of a few +hours there was only a swimming mass in the tub. When the man +looked at four o'clock, it was all a thick murky liquid. He turned +off the gas quickly and stepped back out of the room. For perhaps +half an hour he waited in the hall; finally, when the acids had +cooled so that they no longer gave off fumes, he opened the door +and went in, took hold of the platinum wire and, pulling the +porcelain disk from the stopcock, allowed the awful contents of the +tub to run out. Then he turned on the hot water, rinsed the tub +clean, and replaced the metal outlet. Removing the rubber tubes, +he cut them into pieces, broke the porcelain disk, and, rolling up +the platinum wire, washed it all down the sewer pipe. + +The fumes had escaped through the open window; this he now closed +and set himself to putting the bathroom in order, and effectually +removing every trace of his night's work. The sailor moved around +with the very greatest degree of care. Finally, when he had +arranged everything to his complete satisfaction, he picked up the +two burners, turned out the gas, and left the bathroom, closing the +door after him. From the bathroom he went directly to the attic, +concealed the two rusty burners under a heap of rubbish, and then +walked carefully and noiselessly down the stairs and through the +lower hall. As he opened the door and stepped into the room where +he had killed the woman, two police officers sprang out and seized +him. The man screamed like a wild beast taken in a trap and sank +down. + +"Oh! oh!" he cried, "it was no use! it was no use to do it!" Then +he recovered himself in a manner and was silent. The officers +handcuffed him, summoned the patrol, and took him at once to the +station house. There he said he was a Mexican sailor and that his +name was Victor Ancona; but he would say nothing further. The +following morning he sent for Randolph Mason and the two were long +together. + + +IV + + +The obscure defendant charged with murder has little reason to +complain of the law's delays. The morning following the arrest of +Victor Ancona, the newspapers published long sensational articles, +denounced him as a fiend, and convicted him. The grand jury, as it +happened, was in session. The preliminaries were soon arranged and +the case was railroaded into trial. The indictment contained a +great many counts, and charged the prisoner with the murder of Nina +San Croix by striking, stabbing, choking, poisoning, and so forth. + +The trial had continued for three days and had appeared so +overwhelmingly one-sided that the spectators who were crowded in +the court room had grown to be violent and bitter partisans, to +such an extent that the police watched them closely. The attorneys +for the People were dramatic and denunciatory, and forced their +case with arrogant confidence. Mason, as counsel for the prisoner, +was indifferent and listless. Throughout the entire trial he had +sat almost motionless at the table, his gaunt form bent over, his +long legs drawn up under his chair, and his weary, heavy-muscled +face, with its restless eyes, fixed and staring out over the heads +of the jury, was like a tragic mask. The bar, and even the judge, +believed that the prisoner's counsel had abandoned his case. + +The evidence was all in and the People rested. It had been shown +that Nina San Croix had resided for many years in the house in +which the prisoner was arrested; that she had lived by herself, +with no other companion than an old negro servant; that her past +was unknown, and that she received no visitors, save the Mexican +sailor, who came to her house at long intervals. Nothing whatever +was shown tending to explain who the prisoner was or whence he had +come. It was shown that on Tuesday preceding the killing the +Archbishop had received a communication from Nina San Croix, in +which she said she desired to make a statement of the greatest +import, and asking for an audience. To this the Archbishop replied +that he would willingly grant her a hearing if she would come to +him at eleven o'clock on Friday morning. Two policemen testified +that about eight o'clock on the night of Thursday they had noticed +the prisoner slip into the gate of Nina San Croix's residence and +go down to the side of the house, where he was admitted; that his +appearance and seeming haste had attracted their attention; that +they had concluded that it was some clandestine amour, and out of +curiosity had both slipped down to the house and endeavored to find +a position from which they could see into the room, but were unable +to do so, and were about to go back to the street when they heard a +woman's voice cry out in, great anger: "I know that you love her +and that you want to get rid of me, but you shall not do it! You +murdered him, but you shall not murder me! I have all the evidence +to convict you of murdering him! The Archbishop will have it to- +morrow! They shall hang you! Do you hear me? They shall hang you +for this murder!" that thereupon one of the policemen proposed that +they should break into the house and see what was wrong, but the +other had urged that it was only the usual lovers' quarrel and if +they should interfere they would find nothing upon which a charge +could be based and would only be laughed at by the chief; that they +had waited and listened for a time, but hearing nothing further had +gone back to the street and contented themselves with keeping a +strict watch on the house. + +The People proved further, that on Thursday evening Nina San Croix +had given the old negro domestic a sum of money and dismissed her, +with the instruction that she was not to return until sent for. +The old woman testified that she had gone directly to the house of +her son, and later had discovered that she had forgotten some +articles of clothing which she needed; that thereupon she had +returned to the house and had gone up the back way to her room,-- +this was about eight o'clock; that while there she had heard Nina +San Croix's voice in great passion and remembered that she had used +the words stated by the policemen; that these sudden, violent cries +had frightened her greatly and she had bolted the door and been +afraid to leave the room; shortly thereafter, she had heard heavy +footsteps ascending the stairs, slowly and with great difficulty, +as though some one were carrying a heavy burden; that therefore her +fear had increased and that she had put out the light and hidden +under the bed. She remembered hearing the footsteps moving about +upstairs for many hours, how long she could not tell. Finally, +about half-past four in the morning, she crept out, opened the +door, slipped downstairs, and ran out into the street. There she +had found the policemen and requested them to search the house. + +The two officers had gone to the house with the woman. She had +opened the door and they had had just time to step back into the +shadow when the prisoner entered. When arrested, Victor Ancona had +screamed with terror, and cried out, "It was no use! it was no use +to do it!" + +The Chief of Police had come to the house and instituted a careful +search. In the room below, from which the cries had come, he found +a dress which was identified as belonging to Nina San Croix and +which she was wearing when last seen by the domestic, about six +o'clock that evening. This dress was covered with blood, and had a +slit about two inches long in the left side of the bosom, into +which the Mexican knife, found on the prisoner, fitted perfectly. +These articles were introduced in evidence, and it was shown that +the slit would be exactly over the heart of the wearer, and that +such a wound would certainly result in death. There was much blood +on one of the chairs and on the floor. There was also blood on the +prisoner's coat and the leg of his trousers, and the heavy Mexican +knife was also bloody. The blood was shown by the experts to be +human blood. + +The body of the woman was not found, and the most rigid and +tireless search failed to develop the slightest trace of the +corpse, or the manner of its disposal. The body of the woman had +disappeared as completely as though it had vanished into the air. + +When counsel announced that he had closed for the People, the judge +turned and looked gravely down at Mason. "Sir," he said, "the +evidence for the defense may now be introduced." + +Randolph Mason arose slowly and faced the judge. + +"If your Honor please," he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, +"the defendant has no evidence to offer." He paused while a murmur +of astonishment ran over the court room. "But, if your Honor +please," he continued, "I move that the jury be directed to find +the prisoner not guilty." + +The crowd stirred. The counsel for the People smiled. The judge +looked sharply at the speaker over his glasses. "On what ground?" +he said curtly. + +"On the ground," replied Mason, "that the corpus delicti has not +been proven." + +"Ah!" said the judge, for once losing his judicial gravity. Mason +sat down abruptly. The senior counsel for the prosecution was on +his feet in a moment. + +"What!" he said, "the gentleman bases his motion on a failure to +establish the corpus delicti? Does he jest, or has he forgotten +the evidence? The term 'corpus delicti' is technical, and means +the body of the crime, or the substantial fact that a crime has +been committed. Does anyone doubt it in this case? It is true +that no one actually saw the prisoner kill the decedent, and that +he has so successfully hidden the body that it has not been found, +but the powerful chain of circumstances, clear and close-linked, +proving motive, the criminal agency, and the criminal act, is +overwhelming. + +"The victim in this case is on the eve of making a statement that +would prove fatal to the prisoner. The night before the statement +is to be made he goes to her residence. They quarrel. Her voice +is heard, raised high in the greatest passion, denouncing him, and +charging that he is a murderer, that she has the evidence and will +reveal it, that he shall be hanged, and that he shall not be rid of +her. Here is the motive for the crime, clear as light. Are not +the bloody knife, the bloody dress, the bloody clothes of the +prisoner, unimpeachable witnesses to the criminal act? The +criminal agency of the prisoner has not the shadow of a possibility +to obscure it. His motive is gigantic. The blood on him, and his +despair when arrested, cry 'Murder! murder!' with a thousand +tongues. + +"Men may lie, but circumstances cannot. The thousand hopes and +fears and passions of men may delude, or bias the witness. Yet it +is beyond the human mind to conceive that a clear, complete chain +of concatenated circumstances can be in error. Hence it is that +the greatest jurists have declared that such evidence, being rarely +liable to delusion or fraud, is safest and most powerful. The +machinery of human justice cannot guard against the remote and +improbable doubt. The inference is persistent in the affairs of +men. It is the only means by which the human mind reaches the +truth. If you forbid the jury to exercise it, you bid them work +after first striking off their hands. Rule out the irresistible +inference, and the end of justice is come in this land; and you may +as well leave the spider to weave his web through the abandoned +court room." + +The attorney stopped, looked down at Mason with a pompous sneer, +and retired to his place at the table. The judge sat thoughtful +and motionless. The jurymen leaned forward in their seats. + +"If your Honor please," said Mason, rising, "this is a matter of +law, plain, clear, and so well settled in the State of New York +that even counsel for the People should know it. The question +before your Honor is simple. If the corpus delicti, the body of +the crime, has been proven, as required by the laws of the +commonwealth, then this case should go to the jury. If not, then +it is the duty of this Court to direct the jury to find the +prisoner not guilty. There is here no room for judicial +discretion. Your Honor has but to recall and apply the rigid rule +announced by our courts prescribing distinctly how the corpus +delicti in murder must be proven. + +"The prisoner here stands charged with the highest crime. The law +demands, first, that the crime, as a fact, be established. The +fact that the victim is indeed dead must first be made certain +before anyone can be convicted for her killing, because, so long as +there remains the remotest doubt as to the death, there can be no +certainty as to the criminal agent, although the circumstantial +evidence indicating the guilt of the accused may be positive, +complete, and utterly irresistible. In murder, the corpus delicti, +or body of the crime, is composed of two elements: + +"Death, as a result. + +"The criminal agency of another as the means. + +It is the fixed and immutable law of this State, laid down in the +leading case of Ruloff v. The People, and binding upon this Court, +that both components of the corpus delicti shall not be established +by circumstantial evidence. There must be direct proof of one or +the other of these two component elements of the corpus delicti. +If one is proven by direct evidence, the other may be presumed; but +both shall not be presumed from circumstances, no matter how +powerful, how cogent, or how completely overwhelming the +circumstances may be. In other words, no man can be convicted of +murder in the State of New York, unless the body of the victim be +found and identified, or there be direct proof that the prisoner +did some act adequate to produce death, and did it in such a manner +as to account for the disappearance of the body." + +The face of the judge cleared and grew hard. The members of the +bar were attentive and alert; they were beginning to see the legal +escape open up. The audience were puzzled; they did not yet +understand. Mason turned to the counsel for the People. His ugly +face was bitter with contempt. + +"For three days," he said," I have been tortured by this useless +and expensive farce. If counsel for the People had been other than +play-actors, they would have known in the beginning that Victor +Ancona could not be convicted for murder, unless he were confronted +in this court room with a living witness, who had looked into the +dead face of Nina San Croix; or, if not that, a living witness who +had seen him drive the dagger into her bosom. + +"I care not if the circumstantial evidence in this case were so +strong and irresistible as to be overpowering; if the judge on the +bench, if the jury, if every man within sound of my voice, were +convinced of the guilt of the prisoner to the degree of certainty +that is absolute; if the circumstantial evidence left in the mind +no shadow of the remotest improbable doubt; yet, in the absence of +the eyewitness, this prisoner cannot be punished, and this Court +must compel the jury to acquit him." + +The audience now understood, and they were dumfounded. Surely this +was not the law. They had been taught that the law was common +sense, and this,--this was anything else. + +Mason saw it all, and grinned. "In its tenderness," he sneered, +"the law shields the innocent. The good law of New York reaches +out its hand and lifts the prisoner out of the clutches of the +fierce jury that would hang him." + +Mason sat down. The room was silent. The jurymen looked at each +other in amazement. The counsel for the People arose. His face +was white with anger, and incredulous. + +"Your Honor," he said, "this doctrine is monstrous. Can it be said +that, in order to evade punishment, the murderer has only to hide +or destroy the body of the victim, or sink it into the sea? Then, +if he is not seen to kill, the law is powerless and the murderer +can snap his finger in the face of retributive justice. If this is +the law, then the law for the highest crime is a dead letter. The +great commonwealth winks at murder and invites every man to kill +his enemy, provided he kill him in secret and hide him. I repeat, +your Honor,"--the man's voice was now loud and angry and rang +through the court room--"that this doctrine is monstrous!" + +"So said Best, and Story, and many another," muttered Mason, "and +the law remained." + +"The Court," said the judge, abruptly, "desires no further +argument." + +The counsel for the People resumed his seat. His face lighted up +with triumph. The Court was going to sustain him. + +The judge turned and looked down at the jury. He was grave, and +spoke with deliberate emphasis. + +"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "the rule of Lord Hale obtains in +this State and is binding upon me. It is the law as stated by +counsel for the prisoner: that to warrant conviction of murder +there must be direct proof either of the death, as of the finding +and identification of the corpse, or of criminal violence adequate +to produce death, and exerted in such a manner as to account for +the disappearance of the body; and it is only when there is direct +proof of the one that the other can be established by +circumstantial evidence. This is the law, and cannot now be +departed from. I do not presume to explain its wisdom. Chief- +Justice Johnson has observed, in the leading case, that it may have +its probable foundation in the idea that where direct proof is +absent as to both the fact of the death and of criminal violence +capable of producing death, no evidence can rise to the degree of +moral certainty that the individual is dead by criminal +intervention, or even lead by direct inference to this result; and +that, where the fact of death is not certainly ascertained, all +inculpatory circumstantial evidence wants the key necessary for its +satisfactory interpretation, and cannot be depended on to furnish +more than probable results. It may be, also, that such a rule has +some reference to the dangerous possibility that a general +preconception of guilt, or a general excitement of popular feeling, +may creep in to supply the place of evidence, if, upon other than +direct proof of death or a cause of death, a jury are permitted to +pronounce a prisoner guilty. + +"In this case the body has not been found and there is no direct +proof of criminal agency on the part of the prisoner, although the +chain of circumstantial evidence is complete and irresistible in +the highest degree. Nevertheless, it is all circumstantial +evidence, and under the laws of New York the prisoner cannot be +punished. I have no right of discretion. The law does not permit +a conviction in this case, although every one of us may be morally +certain of the prisoner's guilt. I am, therefore, gentlemen of the +jury, compelled to direct you to find the prisoner not guilty." + +"Judge," interrupted the foreman, jumping up in the box, "we cannot +find that verdict under our oath; we know that this man is guilty." + +"Sir," said the judge, "this is a matter of law in which the wishes +of the jury cannot be considered. The clerk will write a verdict +of not guilty, which you, as foreman, will sign." + +The spectators broke out into a threatening murmur that began to +grow and gather volume. The judge rapped on his desk and ordered +the bailiffs promptly to suppress any demonstration on the part of +the audience. Then he directed the foreman to sign the verdict +prepared by the clerk. When this was done he turned to Victor +Ancona; his face was hard and there was a cold glitter in his eyes. + +"Prisoner at the bar," he said, "you have been put to trial before +this tribunal on a charge of cold-blooded and atrocious murder. +The evidence produced against you was of such powerful and +overwhelming character that it seems to have left no doubt in the +minds of the jury, nor indeed in the mind of any person present in +this court room. + +"Had the question of your guilt been submitted to these twelve +arbiters, a conviction would certainly have resulted and the death +penalty would have been imposed. But the law, rigid, passionless, +even-eyed, has thrust in between you and the wrath of your fellows +and saved you from it. I do not cry out against the impotency of +the law; it is perhaps as wise as imperfect humanity could make it. +I deplore, rather, the genius of evil men who, by cunning design, +are enabled to slip through the fingers of this law. I have no +word of censure or admonition for you, Victor Ancona. The law of +New York compels me to acquit you. I am only its mouthpiece, with +my individual wishes throttled. I speak only those things which +the law directs I shall speak. + +"You are now at liberty to leave this court room, not guiltless of +the crime of murder, perhaps, but at least rid of its punishment. +The eyes of men may see Cain's mark on your brow, but the eyes of +the Law are blind to it." + +When the audience fully realized what the judge had said they were +amazed and silent. They knew as well as men could know, that +Victor Ancona was guilty of murder, and yet he was now going out of +the court room free. Could it happen that the law protected only +against the blundering rogue? They had heard always of the boasted +completeness of the law which magistrates from time immemorial had +labored to perfect, and now when the skillful villain sought to +evade it, they saw how weak a thing it was. + + +V + + +The wedding march of Lohengrin floated out from the Episcopal +Church of St. Mark, clear and sweet, and perhaps heavy with its +paradox of warning. The theater of this coming contract before +high heaven was a wilderness of roses worth the taxes of a county. +The high caste of Manhattan, by the grace of the check book, were +present, clothed in Parisian purple and fine linen, cunningly and +marvelously wrought. + +Over in her private pew, ablaze with jewels, and decked with +fabrics from the deft hand of many a weaver, sat Mrs. Miriam +Steuvisant as imperious and self-complacent as a queen. To her it +was all a kind of triumphal procession, proclaiming her ability as +a general. With her were a choice few of the genus homo, which +obtains at the five-o'clock teas, instituted, say the sages, for +the purpose of sprinkling the holy water of Lethe. + +"Czarina," whispered Reggie Du Puyster, leaning forward, "I salute +you. The ceremony sub jugum is superb." + +"Walcott is an excellent fellow," answered Mrs. Steuvisant; "not a +vice, you know, Reggie." + +"Aye, Empress," put in the others, "a purist taken in the net. The +clean-skirted one has come to the altar. Vive la vertu!" + +Samuel Walcott, still sunburned from his cruise, stood before the +chancel with the only daughter of the blue blooded St. Clairs. His +face was clear and honest and his voice firm. This was life and +not romance. The lid of the sepulcher had closed and he had +slipped from under it. And now, and ever after, the hand red with +murder was clean as any. + +The minister raised his voice, proclaiming the holy union before +God, and this twain, half pure, half foul, now by divine ordinance +one flesh, bowed down before it. No blood cried from the ground. +The sunlight of high noon streamed down through the window panes +like a benediction. + +Back in the pew of Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant, Reggie Du Puyster turned +down his thumb. "Habet!" he said. + + +From "The Strange Schemes of Randolph Mason," by Melville Davisson +Post. Copyright, 1896, by G. P. Putnam's Sons. + + + +Ambrose Bierce + +An Heiress from Redhorse + + +CORONADO, June 20th. + +I find myself more and more interested in him. It is not, I am +sure, his--do you know any noun corresponding to the adjective +"handsome"? One does not like to say "beauty" when speaking of a +man. He is handsome enough, heaven knows; I should not even care +to trust you with him--faithful of all possible wives that you are-- +when he looks his best, as he always does. Nor do I think the +fascination of his manner has much to do with it. You recollect +that the charm of art inheres in that which is undefinable, and to +you and me, my dear Irene, I fancy there is rather less of that in +the branch of art under consideration than to girls in their first +season. I fancy I know how my fine gentleman produces many of his +effects, and could, perhaps, give him a pointer on heightening +them. Nevertheless, his manner is something truly delightful. I +suppose what interests me chiefly is the man's brains. His +conversation is the best I have ever heard, and altogether unlike +anyone's else. He seems to know everything, as, indeed, he ought, +for he has been everywhere, read everything, seen all there is to +see--sometimes I think rather more than is good for him--and had +acquaintance with the QUEEREST people. And then his voice--Irene, +when I hear it I actually feel as if I ought to have PAID AT THE +DOOR, though, of course, it is my own door. + + +July 3d. + +I fear my remarks about Dr. Barritz must have been, being +thoughtless, very silly, or you would not have written of him with +such levity, not to say disrespect. Believe me, dearest, he has +more dignity and seriousness (of the kind, I mean, which is not +inconsistent with a manner sometimes playful and always charming) +than any of the men that you and I ever met. And young Raynor--you +knew Raynor at Monterey--tells me that the men all like him, and +that he is treated with something like deference everywhere. There +is a mystery, too--something about his connection with the +Blavatsky people in Northern India. Raynor either would not or +could not tell me the particulars. I infer that Dr. Barritz is +thought--don't you dare to laugh at me--a magician! Could anything +be finer than that? An ordinary mystery is not, of course, as good +as a scandal, but when it relates to dark and dreadful practices-- +to the exercise of unearthly powers--could anything be more +piquant? It explains, too, the singular influence the man has upon +me. It is the undefinable in his art--black art. Seriously, dear, +I quite tremble when he looks me full in the eyes with those +unfathomable orbs of his, which I have already vainly attempted to +describe to you. How dreadful if we have the power to make one +fall in love! Do you know if the Blavatsky crowd have that power-- +outside of Sepoy? + + +July 1 + +The strangest thing! Last evening while Auntie was attending one +of the hotel hops (I hate them) Dr. Barritz called. It was +scandalously late--I actually believe he had talked with Auntie in +the ballroom, and learned from her that I was alone. I had been +all the evening contriving how to worm out of him the truth about +his connection with the Thugs in Sepoy, and all of that black +business, but the moment he fixed his eyes on me (for I admitted +him, I'm ashamed to say) I was helpless, I trembled, I blushed, I-- +O Irene, Irene, I love the man beyond expression, and you know how +it is yourself! + +Fancy! I, an ugly duckling from Redhorse--daughter (they say) of +old Calamity Jim--certainly his heiress, with no living relation +but an absurd old aunt, who spoils me a thousand and fifty ways-- +absolutely destitute of everything but a million dollars and a hope +in Paris--I daring to love a god like him! My dear, if I had you +here, I could tear your hair out with mortification. + +I am convinced that he is aware of my feeling, for he stayed but a +few moments, said nothing but what another man might have said half +as well, and pretending that he had an engagement went away. I +learned to-day (a little bird told me--the bell bird) that he went +straight to bed. How does that strike you as evidence of exemplary +habits? + + +July 17th. + +That little wretch, Raynor, called yesterday, and his babble set me +almost wild. He never runs down--that is to say, when he +exterminates a score of reputations, more or less, he does not +pause between one reputation and the next. (By the way, he +inquired about you, and his manifestations of interest in you had, +I confess, a good deal of vraisemblance.) + +Mr. Raynor observes no game laws; like Death (which he would +inflict if slander were fatal) he has all seasons for his own. But +I like him, for we knew one another at Redhorse when we were young +and true-hearted and barefooted. He was known in those far fair +days as "Giggles," and I--O Irene, can you ever forgive me?--I was +called "Gunny." God knows why; perhaps in allusion to the material +of my pinafores; perhaps because the name is in alliteration with +"Giggles," for Gig and I were inseparable playmates, and the miners +may have thought it a delicate compliment to recognize some kind of +relationship between us. + +Later, we took in a third--another of Adversity's brood, who, like +Garrick between Tragedy and Comedy, had a chronic inability to +adjudicate the rival claims (to himself) of Frost and Famine. +Between him and the grave there was seldom anything more than a +single suspender and the hope of a meal which would at the same +time support life and make it insupportable. He literally picked +up a precarious living for himself and an aged mother by +"chloriding the dumps," that is to say, the miners permitted him to +search the heaps of waste rock for such pieces of "pay ore" as had +been overlooked; and these he sacked up and sold at the Syndicate +Mill. He became a member of our firm--"Gunny, Giggles, and Dumps," +thenceforth--through my favor; for I could not then, nor can I now, +be indifferent to his courage and prowess in defending against +Giggles the immemorial right of his sex to insult a strange and +unprotected female--myself. After old Jim struck it in the +Calamity, and I began to wear shoes and go to school, and in +emulation Giggles took to washing his face, and became Jack Raynor, +of Wells, Fargo & Co., and old Mrs. Barts was herself chlorided to +her fathers, Dumps drifted over to San Juan Smith and turned stage +driver, and was killed by road agents, and so forth. + +Why do I tell you all this, dear? Because it is heavy on my heart. +Because I walk the Valley of Humility. Because I am subduing +myself to permanent consciousness of my unworthiness to unloose the +latchet of Dr. Barritz's shoe. Because-oh, dear, oh, dear--there's +a cousin of Dumps at this hotel! I haven't spoken to him. I never +had any acquaintance with him, but--do you suppose he has +recognized me? Do, please, give me in your next your candid, sure- +enough opinion about it, and say you don't think so. Do you think +He knows about me already and that is why He left me last evening +when He saw that I blushed and trembled like a fool under His eyes? +You know I can't bribe ALL the newspapers, and I can't go back on +anybody who was good to Gunny at Redhorse--not if I'm pitched out +of society into the sea. So the skeleton sometimes rattles behind +the door. I never cared much before, as you know, but now--NOW it +is not the same. Jack Raynor I am sure of--he will not tell him. +He seems, indeed, to hold him in such respect as hardly to dare +speak to him at all, and I'm a good deal that way myself. Dear, +dear! I wish I had something besides a million dollars! If Jack +were three inches taller I'd marry him alive and go back to +Redhorse and wear sackcloth again to the end of my miserable days. + + +July 25th. + +We had a perfectly splendid sunset last evening, and I must tell +you all about it. I ran away from Auntie and everybody, and was +walking alone on the beach. I expect you to believe, you infidel! +that I had not looked out of my window on the seaward side of the +hotel and seen him walking alone on the beach. If you are not lost +to every feeling of womanly delicacy you will accept my statement +without question. I soon established myself under my sunshade and +had for some time been gazing out dreamily over the sea, when he +approached, walking close to the edge of the water--it was ebb +tide. I assure you the wet sand actually brightened about his +feet! As he approached me, he lifted his hat, saying: "Miss +Dement, may I sit with you?--or will you walk with me?" + +The possibility that neither might be agreeable seems not to have +occurred to him. Did you ever know such assurance? Assurance? My +dear, it was gall, downright GALL! Well, I didn't find it +wormwood, and replied, with my untutored Redhorse heart in my +throat: "I--I shall be pleased to do ANYTHING." Could words have +been more stupid? There are depths of fatuity in me, friend o' my +soul, which are simply bottomless! + +He extended his hand, smiling, and I delivered mine into it without +a moment's hesitation, and when his fingers closed about it to +assist me to my feet, the consciousness that it trembled made me +blush worse than the red west. I got up, however, and after a +while, observing that he had not let go my hand, I pulled on it a +little, but unsuccessfully. He simply held on, saying nothing, but +looking down into my face with some kind of a smile--I didn't know-- +how could I?--whether it was affectionate, derisive, or what, for +I did not look at him. How beautiful he was!--with the red fires +of the sunset burning in the depths of his eyes. Do you know, +dear, if the Thugs and Experts of the Blavatsky region have any +special kind of eyes? Ah, you should have seen his superb +attitude, the godlike inclination of his head as he stood over me +after I had got upon my feet! It was a noble picture, but I soon +destroyed it, for I began at once to sink again to the earth. +There was only one thing for him to do, and he did it; he supported +me with an arm about my waist. + +"Miss Dement, are you ill?" he said. + +It was not an exclamation; there was neither alarm nor solicitude +in it. If he had added: "I suppose that is about what I am +expected to say," he would hardly have expressed his sense of the +situation more clearly. His manner filled me with shame and +indignation, for I was suffering acutely. I wrenched my hand out +of his, grasped the arm supporting me, and, pushing myself free, +fell plump into the sand and sat helpless. My hat had fallen off +in the struggle, and my hair tumbled about my face and shoulders in +the most mortifying way. + +"Go away from me," I cried, half choking. "Oh, PLEASE go away, +you--you Thug! How dare you think THAT when my leg is asleep?" + +I actually said those identical words! And then I broke down and +sobbed. Irene, I BLUBBERED! + +His manner altered in an instant--I could see that much through my +fingers and hair. He dropped on one knee beside me, parted the +tangle of hair, and said, in the tenderest way: My poor girl, God +knows I have not intended to pain you. How should I?--I who love +you--I who have loved you for--for years and years!" + +He had pulled my wet hands away from my face and was covering them +with kisses. My cheeks were like two coals, my whole face was +flaming and, I think, steaming. What could I do? I hid it on his +shoulder--there was no other place. And, oh, my dear friend, how +my leg tingled and thrilled, and how I wanted to kick! + +We sat so for a long time. He had released one of my hands to pass +his arm about me again, and I possessed myself of my handkerchief +and was drying my eyes and my nose. I would not look up until that +was done; he tried in vain to push me a little away and gaze into +my eyes. Presently, when it was all right, and it had grown a bit +dark, I lifted my head, looked him straight in the eyes, and smiled +my best--my level best, dear. + +"What do you mean," I said, "by 'years and years'?" + +"Dearest," he replied, very gravely, very earnestly, "in the +absence of the sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, the lank hair, the +slouching gait, the rags, dirt, and youth, can you not--will you +not understand? Gunny, I'm Dumps!" + +In a moment I was upon my feet and he upon his. I seized him by +the lapels of his coat and peered into his handsome face in the +deepening darkness. I was breathless with excitement. + +"And you are not dead?" I asked, hardly knowing what I said. + +"Only dead in love, dear. I recovered from the road agent's +bullet, but this, I fear, is fatal." + +"But about Jack--Mr. Raynor? Don't you know--" + +"I am ashamed to say, darling, that it was through that unworthy +person's invitation that I came here from Vienna." + +Irene, they have played it upon your affectionate friend, + +MARY JANE DEMENT. + + +P.S.--The worst of it is that there is no mystery. That was an +invention of Jack to arouse my curiosity and interest. James is +not a Thug. He solemnly assures me that in all his wanderings he +has never set foot in Sepoy. + + + +The Man and the Snake + + +I + + +It is of veritabyll report, and attested of so many that there be +nowe of wyse and learned none to gaynsaye it, that ye serpente hys +eye hath a magnetick propertie that whosoe falleth into its svasion +is drawn forwards in despyte of his wille, and perisheth miserabyll +by ye creature hys byte. + + +Stretched at ease upon a sofa, in gown and slippers, Harker Brayton +smiled as he read the foregoing sentence in old Morryster's +"Marvells of Science." "The only marvel in the matter," he said to +himself, "is that the wise and learned in Morryster's day should +have believed such nonsense as is rejected by most of even the +ignorant in ours." + +A train of reflections followed--for Brayton was a man of thought-- +and he unconsciously lowered his book without altering the +direction of his eyes. As soon as the volume had gone below the +line of sight, something in an obscure corner of the room recalled +his attention to his surroundings. What he saw, in the shadow +under his bed, were two small points of light, apparently about an +inch apart. They might have been reflections of the gas jet above +him, in metal nail heads; he gave them but little thought and +resumed his reading. A moment later something--some impulse which +it did not occur to him to analyze--impelled him to lower the book +again and seek for what he saw before. The points of light were +still there. They seemed to have become brighter than before, +shining with a greenish luster which he had not at first observed. +He thought, too, that they might have moved a trifle--were somewhat +nearer. They were still too much in the shadow, however, to reveal +their nature and origin to an indolent attention, and he resumed +his reading. Suddenly something in the text suggested a thought +which made him start and drop the book for the third time to the +side of the sofa, whence, escaping from his hand, it fell sprawling +to the floor, back upward. Brayton, half-risen, was staring +intently into the obscurity beneath the bed, where the points of +light shone with, it seemed to him, an added fire. His attention +was now fully aroused, his gaze eager and imperative. It +disclosed, almost directly beneath the foot rail of the bed, the +coils of a large serpent--the points of light were its eyes! Its +horrible head, thrust flatly forth from the innermost coil and +resting upon the outermost, was directed straight toward him, the +definition of the wide, brutal jaw and the idiotlike forehead +serving to show the direction of its malevolent gaze. The eyes +were no longer merely luminous points; they looked into his own +with a meaning, a malign significance. + + +II + + +A snake in a bedroom of a modern city dwelling of the better sort +is, happily, not so common a phenomenon as to make explanation +altogether needless. Harker Brayton, a bachelor of thirty-five, a +scholar, idler, and something of an athlete, rich, popular, and of +sound health, had returned to San Francisco from all manner of +remote and unfamiliar countries. His tastes, always a trifle +luxurious, had taken on an added exuberance from long privation; +and the resources of even the Castle Hotel being inadequate for +their perfect gratification, he had gladly accepted the hospitality +of his friend, Dr. Druring, the distinguished scientist. Dr. +Druring's house, a large, old-fashioned one in what was now an +obscure quarter of the city, had an outer and visible aspect of +reserve. It plainly would not associate with the contiguous +elements of its altered environment, and appeared to have developed +some of the eccentricities which come of isolation. One of these +was a "wing," conspicuously irrelevant in point of architecture, +and no less rebellious in the matter of purpose; for it was a +combination of laboratory, menagerie, and museum. It was here that +the doctor indulged the scientific side of his nature in the study +of such forms of animal life as engaged his interest and comforted +his taste--which, it must be confessed, ran rather to the lower +forms. For one of the higher types nimbly and sweetly to recommend +itself unto his gentle senses, it had at least to retain certain +rudimentary characteristics allying it to such "dragons of the +prime" as toads and snakes. His scientific sympathies were +distinctly reptilian; he loved nature's vulgarians and described +himself as the Zola of zoology. His wife and daughters, not having +the advantage to share his enlightened curiosity regarding the +works and ways of our ill-starred fellow-creatures, were, with +needless austerity, excluded from what he called the Snakery, and +doomed to companionship with their own kind; though, to soften the +rigors of their lot, he had permitted them, out of his great +wealth, to outdo the reptiles in the gorgeousness of their +surroundings and to shine with a superior splendor. + +Architecturally, and in point of "furnishing," the Snakery had a +severe simplicity befitting the humble circumstances of its +occupants, many of whom, indeed, could not safely have been +intrusted with the liberty which is necessary to the full enjoyment +of luxury, for they had the troublesome peculiarity of being alive. +In their own apartments, however, they were under as little +personal restraint as was compatible with their protection from the +baneful habit of swallowing one another; and, as Brayton had +thoughtfully been apprised, it was more than a tradition that some +of them had at divers times been found in parts of the premises +where it would have embarrassed them to explain their presence. +Despite the Snakery and its uncanny associations--to which, indeed, +he gave little attention--Brayton found life at the Druring mansion +very much to his mind. + + +III + + +Beyond a smart shock of surprise and a shudder of mere loathing, +Mr. Brayton was not greatly affected. His first thought was to +ring the call bell and bring a servant; but, although the bell cord +dangled within easy reach, he made no movement toward it; it had +occurred to his mind that the act might subject him to the +suspicion of fear, which he certainly did not feel. He was more +keenly conscious of the incongruous nature of the situation than +affected by its perils; it was revolting, but absurd. + +The reptile was of a species with which Brayton was unfamiliar. +Its length he could only conjecture; the body at the largest +visible part seemed about as thick as his forearm. In what way was +it dangerous, if in any way? Was it venomous? Was it a +constrictor? His knowledge of nature's danger signals did not +enable him to say; he had never deciphered the code. + +If not dangerous, the creature was at least offensive. It was de +trop--"matter out of place"--an impertinence. The gem was unworthy +of the setting. Even the barbarous taste of our time and country, +which had loaded the walls of the room with pictures, the floor +with furniture, and the furniture with bric-a-brac, had not quite +fitted the place for this bit of the savage life of the jungle. +Besides--insupportable thought!--the exhalations of its breath +mingled with the atmosphere which he himself was breathing! + +These thoughts shaped themselves with greater or less definition in +Brayton's mind, and begot action. The process is what we call +consideration and decision. It is thus that we are wise and +unwise. It is thus that the withered leaf in an autumn breeze +shows greater or less intelligence than its fellows, falling upon +the land or upon the lake. The secret of human action is an open +one--something contracts our muscles. Does it matter if we give to +the preparatory molecular changes the name of will? + +Brayton rose to his feet and prepared to back softly away from the +snake, without disturbing it, if possible, and through the door. +People retire so from the presence of the great, for greatness is +power, and power is a menace. He knew that he could walk backward +without obstruction, and find the door without error. Should the +monster follow, the taste which had plastered the walls with +paintings had consistently supplied a rack of murderous Oriental +weapons from which he could snatch one to suit the occasion. In +the meantime the snake's eyes burned with a more pitiless +malevolence than ever. + +Brayton lifted his right foot free of the floor to step backward. +That moment he felt a strong aversion to doing so. + +"I am accounted brave," he murmured; "is bravery, then, no more +than pride? Because there are none to witness the shame shall I +retreat?" + +He was steadying himself with his right hand upon the back of a +chair, his foot suspended. + +"Nonsense!" he said aloud; "I am not so great a coward as to fear +to seem to myself afraid." + +He lifted the foot a little higher by slightly bending the knee, +and thrust it sharply to the floor--an inch in front of the other! +He could not think how that occurred. A trial with the left foot +had the same result; it was again in advance of the right. The +hand upon the chair back was grasping it; the arm was straight, +reaching somewhat backward. One might have seen that he was +reluctant to lose his hold. The snake's malignant head was still +thrust forth from the inner coil as before, the neck level. It had +not moved, but its eyes were now electric sparks, radiating an +infinity of luminous needles. + +The man had an ashy pallor. Again he took a step forward, and +another, partly dragging the chair, which, when finally released, +fell upon the floor with a crash. The man groaned; the snake made +neither sound nor motion, but its eyes were two dazzling suns. The +reptile itself was wholly concealed by them. They gave off +enlarging rings of rich and vivid colors, which at their greatest +expansion successively vanished like soap bubbles; they seemed to +approach his very face, and anon were an immeasurable distance +away. He heard, somewhere, the continual throbbing of a great +drum, with desultory bursts of far music, inconceivably sweet, like +the tones of an aeolian harp. He knew it for the sunrise melody of +Memnon's statue, and thought he stood in the Nileside reeds, +hearing, with exalted sense, that immortal anthem through the +silence of the centuries. + +The music ceased; rather, it became by insensible degrees the +distant roll of a retreating thunderstorm. A landscape, glittering +with sun and rain, stretched before him, arched with a vivid +rainbow, framing in its giant curve a hundred visible cities. In +the middle distance a vast serpent, wearing a crown, reared its +head out of its voluminous convolutions and looked at him with his +dead mother's eyes. Suddenly this enchanting landscape seemed to +rise swiftly upward, like the drop scene at a theater, and vanished +in a blank. Something struck him a hard blow upon the face and +breast. He had fallen to the floor; the blood ran from his broken +nose and his bruised lips. For a moment he was dazed and stunned, +and lay with closed eyes, his face against the door. In a few +moments he had recovered, and then realized that his fall, by +withdrawing his eyes, had broken the spell which held him. He felt +that now, by keeping his gaze averted, he would be able to retreat. +But the thought of the serpent within a few feet of his head, yet +unseen--perhaps in the very act of springing upon him and throwing +its coils about his throat--was too horrible. He lifted his head, +stared again into those baleful eyes, and was again in bondage. + +The snake had not moved, and appeared somewhat to have lost its +power upon the imagination; the gorgeous illusions of a few moments +before were not repeated. Beneath that flat and brainless brow its +black, beady eyes simply glittered, as at first, with an expression +unspeakably malignant. It was as if the creature, knowing its +triumph assured, had determined to practice no more alluring wiles. + +Now ensued a fearful scene. The man, prone upon the floor, within +a yard of his enemy, raised the upper part of his body upon his +elbows, his head thrown back, his legs extended to their full +length. His face was white between its gouts of blood; his eyes +were strained open to their uttermost expansion. There was froth +upon his lips; it dropped off in flakes. Strong convulsions ran +through his body, making almost serpentine undulations. He bent +himself at the waist, shifting his legs from side to side. And +every movement left him a little nearer to the snake. He thrust +his hands forward to brace himself back, yet constantly advanced +upon his elbows. + + +IV + + +Dr. Druring and his wife sat in the library. The scientist was in +rare good humor. + +"I have just obtained, by exchange with another collector," he +said, "a splendid specimen of the Ophiophagus." + +"And what may that be?" the lady inquired with a somewhat languid +interest. + +"Why, bless my soul, what profound ignorance! My dear, a man who +ascertains after marriage that his wife does not know Greek, is +entitled to a divorce. The Ophiophagus is a snake which eats other +snakes." + +"I hope it will eat all yours," she said, absently shifting the +lamp. "But how does it get the other snakes? By charming them, I +suppose." + +"That is just like you, dear," said the doctor, with an affectation +of petulance. "You know how irritating to me is any allusion to +that vulgar superstition about the snake's power of fascination." + +The conversation was interrupted by a mighty cry which rang through +the silent house like the voice of a demon shouting in a tomb. +Again and yet again it sounded, with terrible distinctness. They +sprang to their feet, the man confused, the lady pale and +speechless with fright. Almost before the echoes of the last cry +had died away the doctor was out of the room, springing up the +staircase two steps at a time. In the corridor, in front of +Brayton's chamber, he met some servants who had come from the upper +floor. Together they rushed at the door without knocking. It was +unfastened, and gave way. Brayton lay upon his stomach on the +floor, dead. His head and arms were partly concealed under the +foot rail of the bed. They pulled the body away, turning it upon +the back. The face was daubed with blood and froth, the eyes were +wide open, staring--a dreadful sight! + +"Died in a fit," said the scientist, bending his knee and placing +his hand upon the heart. While in that position he happened to +glance under the bed. "Good God!" he added; "how did this thing +get in here?" + +He reached under the bed, pulled out the snake, and flung it, still +coiled, to the center of the room, whence, with a harsh, shuffling +sound, it slid across the polished floor till stopped by the wall, +where it lay without motion. It was a stuffed snake; its eyes were +two shoe buttons. + + +From "Tales of Soldiers and Civilians," by Ambrose Bierce. +Copyright, 1891, by E. L. G. Steele. + + + +Edgar Allan Poe + +The Oblong Box + + +Some years ago, I engaged passage from Charleston, S. C, to the +city of New York, in the fine packet-ship "Independence," Captain +Hardy. We were to sail on the fifteenth of the month (June), +weather permitting; and on the fourteenth, I went on board to +arrange some matters in my stateroom. + +I found that we were to have a great many passengers, including a +more than usual number of ladies. On the list were several of my +acquaintances, and among other names, I was rejoiced to see that of +Mr. Cornelius Wyatt, a young artist, for whom I entertained +feelings of warm friendship. He had been with me a fellow-student +at C---- University, where we were very much together. He had the +ordinary temperament of genius, and was a compound of misanthropy, +sensibility, and enthusiasm. To these qualities he united the +warmest and truest heart which ever beat in a human bosom. + +I observed that his name was carded upon THREE state-rooms; and, +upon again referring to the list of passengers, I found that he had +engaged passage for himself, wife, and two sisters--his own. The +state-rooms were sufficiently roomy, and each had two berths, one +above the other. These berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly +narrow as to be insufficient for more than one person; still, I +could not comprehend why there were THREE staterooms for these four +persons. I was, just at that epoch, in one of those moody frames +of mind which make a man abnormally inquisitive about trifles: and +I confess, with shame, that I busied myself in a variety of ill- +bred and preposterous conjectures about this matter of the +supernumerary stateroom. It was no business of mine, to be sure, +but with none the less pertinacity did I occupy myself in attempts +to resolve the enigma. At last I reached a conclusion which +wrought in me great wonder why I had not arrived at it before. "It +is a servant of course," I said; "what a fool I am, not sooner to +have thought of so obvious a solution!" And then I again repaired +to the list--but here I saw distinctly that NO servant was to come +with the party, although, in fact, it had been the original design +to bring one--for the words "and servant" had been first written +and then over-scored. "Oh, extra baggage, to be sure," I now said +to myself--"something he wishes not to be put in the hold-- +something to be kept under his own eye--ah, I have it--a painting +or so--and this is what he has been bargaining about with Nicolino, +the Italian Jew." This idea satisfied me, and I dismissed my +curiosity for the nonce. + +Wyatt's two sisters I knew very well, and most amiable and clever +girls they were. His wife he had newly married, and I had never +yet seen her. He had often talked about her in my presence, +however, and in his usual style of enthusiasm. He described her as +of surpassing beauty, wit, and accomplishment. I was, therefore, +quite anxious to make her acquaintance. + +On the day in which I visited the ship (the fourteenth), Wyatt and +party were also to visit it--so the captain informed me--and I +waited on board an hour longer than I had designed, in hope of +being presented to the bride, but then an apology came. "Mrs. W. +was a little indisposed, and would decline coming on board until +to-morrow, at the hour of sailing." + +The morrow having arrived, I was going from my hotel to the wharf, +when Captain Hardy met me and said that, "owing to circumstances" +(a stupid but convenient phrase), "he rather thought the +'Independence' would not sail for a day or two, and that when all +was ready, he would send up and let me know." This I thought +strange, for there was a stiff southerly breeze; but as "the +circumstances" were not forthcoming, although I pumped for them +with much perseverance, I had nothing to do but to return home and +digest my impatience at leisure. + +I did not receive the expected message from the captain for nearly +a week. It came at length, however, and I immediately went on +board. The ship was crowded with passengers, and every thing was +in the bustle attendant upon making sail. Wyatt's party arrived in +about ten minutes after myself. There were the two sisters, the +bride, and the artist--the latter in one of his customary fits of +moody misanthropy. I was too well used to these, however, to pay +them any special attention. He did not even introduce me to his +wife;--this courtesy devolving, per force, upon his sister Marian-- +a very sweet and intelligent girl, who, in a few hurried words, +made us acquainted. + +Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled; and when she raised her veil, +in acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very profoundly +astonished. I should have been much more so, however, had not long +experience advised me not to trust, with too implicit a reliance, +the enthusiastic descriptions of my friend, the artist, when +indulging in comments upon the loveliness of woman. When beauty +was the theme, I well knew with what facility he soared into the +regions of the purely ideal. + +The truth is, I could not help regarding Mrs. Wyatt as a decidedly +plain-looking woman. If not positively ugly, she was not, I think, +very far from it. She was dressed, however, in exquisite taste-- +and then I had no doubt that she had captivated my friend's heart +by the more enduring graces of the intellect and soul. She said +very few words, and passed at once into her state-room with Mr. W. + +My old inquisitiveness now returned. There was NO servant--THAT +was a settled point. I looked, therefore, for the extra baggage. +After some delay, a cart arrived at the wharf, with an oblong pine +box, which was every thing that seemed to be expected. Immediately +upon its arrival we made sail, and in a short time were safely over +the bar and standing out to sea. + +The box in question was, as I say, oblong. It was about six feet +in length by two and a half in breadth; I observed it attentively, +and like to be precise. Now this shape was PECULIAR; and no sooner +had I seen it, than I took credit to myself for the accuracy of my +guessing. I had reached the conclusion, it will be remembered, +that the extra baggage of my friend, the artist, would prove to be +pictures, or at least a picture; for I knew he had been for several +weeks in conference with Nicolino:--and now here was a box, which, +from its shape, COULD possibly contain nothing in the world but a +copy of Leonardo's "Last Supper;" and a copy of this very "Last +Supper," done by Rubini the younger, at Florence, I had known, for +some time, to be in the possession of Nicolino. This point, +therefore, I considered as sufficiently settled. I chuckled +excessively when I thought of my acumen. It was the first time I +had ever known Wyatt to keep from me any of his artistical secrets; +but here he evidently intended to steal a march upon me, and +smuggle a fine picture to New York, under my very nose; expecting +me to know nothing of the matter. I resolved to quiz him WELL, now +and hereafter. + +One thing, however, annoyed me not a little. The box did NOT go +into the extra stateroom. It was deposited in Wyatt's own; and +there, too, it remained, occupying very nearly the whole of the +floor--no doubt to the exceeding discomfort of the artist and his +wife;--this the more especially as the tar or paint with which it +was lettered in sprawling capitals, emitted a strong, disagreeable, +and, to my fancy, a peculiarly disgusting odor. On the lid were +painted the words--"Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, Albany, New York. Charge +of Cornelius Wyatt, Esq. This side up. To be handled with care." + +Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of Albany, was the +artist's wife's mother,--but then I looked upon the whole address +as a mystification, intended especially for myself. I made up my +mind, of course, that the box and contents would never get farther +north than the studio of my misanthropic friend, in Chambers +Street, New York. + +For the first three or four days we had fine weather, although the +wind was dead ahead; having chopped round to the northward, +immediately upon our losing sight of the coast. The passengers +were, consequently, in high spirits and disposed to be social. I +MUST except, however, Wyatt and his sisters, who behaved stiffly, +and, I could not help thinking, uncourteously to the rest of the +party. Wyatt's conduct I did not so much regard. He was gloomy, +even beyond his usual habit--in fact he was MOROSE--but in him I +was prepared for eccentricity. For the sisters, however, I could +make no excuse. They secluded themselves in their staterooms +during the greater part of the passage, and absolutely refused, +although I repeatedly urged them, to hold communication with any +person on board. + +Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable. That is to say, she was +CHATTY; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea. She +became EXCESSIVELY intimate with most of the ladies; and, to my +profound astonishment, evinced no equivocal disposition to coquet +with the men. She amused us all very much. I say "amused"--and +scarcely know how to explain myself. The truth is, I soon found +that Mrs. W. was far oftener laughed AT than WITH. The gentlemen +said little about her; but the ladies, in a little while, +pronounced her "a good-hearted thing, rather indifferent looking, +totally uneducated, and decidedly vulgar." The great wonder was, +how Wyatt had been entrapped into such a match. Wealth was the +general solution--but this I knew to be no solution at all; for +Wyatt had told me that she neither brought him a dollar nor had any +expectations from any source whatever. "He had married," he said, +"for love, and for love only; and his bride was far more than +worthy of his love." When I thought of these expressions, on the +part of my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled. +Could it be possible that he was taking leave of his senses? What +else could I think? HE, so refined, so intellectual, so +fastidious, with so exquisite a perception of the faulty, and so +keen an appreciation of the beautiful! To be sure, the lady seemed +especially fond of HIM--particularly so in his absence--when she +made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of what had been +said by her "beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt." The word "husband" +seemed forever--to use one of her own delicate expressions--forever +"on the tip of her tongue." In the meantime, it was observed by +all on board, that he avoided HER in the most pointed manner, and, +for the most part, shut himself up alone in his state-room, where, +in fact, he might have been said to live altogether, leaving his +wife at full liberty to amuse herself as she thought best, in the +public society of the main cabin. + +My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, was, that, the artist, by +some unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in some fit of +enthusiastic and fanciful passion, had been induced to unite +himself with a person altogether beneath him, and that the natural +result, entire and speedy disgust, had ensued. I pitied him from +the bottom of my heart--but could not, for that reason, quite +forgive his incommunicativeness in the matter of the "Last Supper." +For this I resolved to have my revenge. + +One day he came upon deck, and, taking his arm as had been my wont, +I sauntered with him backward and forward. His gloom, however +(which I considered quite natural under the circumstances), seemed +entirely unabated. He said little, and that moodily, and with +evident effort. I ventured a jest or two, and he made a sickening +attempt at a smile. Poor fellow!--as I thought of HIS WIFE, I +wondered that he could have heart to put on even the semblance of +mirth. At last I ventured a home thrust. I determined to commence +a series of covert insinuations, or innuendoes, about the oblong +box--just to let him perceive, gradually, that I was NOT altogether +the butt, or victim, of his little bit of pleasant mystification. +My first observation was by way of opening a masked battery. I +said something about the "peculiar shape of THAT box--,"and, as I +spoke the words, I smiled knowingly, winked, and touched him gently +with my forefinger in the ribs. + +The manner in which Wyatt received this harmless pleasantry +convinced me, at once, that he was mad. At first he stared at me +as if he found it impossible to comprehend the witticism of my +remark; but as its point seemed slowly to make its way into his +brain, his eyes, in the same proportion, seemed protruding from +their sockets. Then he grew very red--then hideously pale--then, +as if highly amused with what I had insinuated, he began a loud and +boisterous laugh, which, to my astonishment, he kept up, with +gradually increasing vigor, for ten minutes or more. In +conclusion, he fell flat and heavily upon the deck. When I ran to +uplift him, to all appearance he was DEAD. + +I called assistance, and, with much difficulty, we brought him to +himself. Upon reviving he spoke incoherently for some time. At +length we bled him and put him to bed. The next morning he was +quite recovered, so far as regarded his mere bodily health. Of his +mind I say nothing, of course. I avoided him during the rest of +the passage, by advice of the captain, who seemed to coincide with +me altogether in my views of his insanity, but cautioned me to say +nothing on this head to any person on board. + +Several circumstances occurred immediately after this fit of Wyatt +which contributed to heighten the curiosity with which I was +already possessed. Among other things, this: I had been nervous-- +drank too much strong green tea, and slept ill at night--in fact, +for two nights I could not be properly said to sleep at all. Now, +my state-room opened into the main cabin, or dining-room, as did +those of all the single men on board. Wyatt's three rooms were in +the after-cabin, which was separated from the main one by a slight +sliding door, never locked even at night. As we were almost +constantly on a wind, and the breeze was not a little stiff, the +ship heeled to leeward very considerably; and whenever her +starboard side was to leeward, the sliding door between the cabins +slid open, and so remained, nobody taking the trouble to get up and +shut it. But my berth was in such a position, that when my own +state-room door was open, as well as the sliding door in question +(and my own door was ALWAYS open on account of the heat,) I could +see into the after-cabin quite distinctly, and just at that portion +of it, too, where were situated the state-rooms of Mr. Wyatt. +Well, during two nights (NOT consecutive) while I lay awake, I +clearly saw Mrs. W., about eleven o'clock upon each night, steal +cautiously from the state-room of Mr. W., and enter the extra room, +where she remained until daybreak, when she was called by her +husband and went back. That they were virtually separated was +clear. They had separate apartments--no doubt in contemplation of +a more permanent divorce; and here, after all I thought was the +mystery of the extra stateroom. + +There was another circumstance, too, which interested me much. +During the two wakeful nights in question, and immediately after +the disappearance of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra stateroom, I was +attracted by certain singular cautious, subdued noises in that of +her husband. After listening to them for some time, with +thoughtful attention, I at length succeeded perfectly in +translating their import. They were sounds occasioned by the +artist in prying open the oblong box, by means of a chisel and +mallet--the latter being apparently muffled, or deadened, by some +soft woollen or cotton substance in which its head was enveloped. + +In this manner I fancied I could distinguish the precise moment +when he fairly disengaged the lid--also, that I could determine +when he removed it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the +lower berth in his room; this latter point I knew, for example, by +certain slight taps which the lid made in striking against the +wooden edges of the berth, as he endeavored to lay it down VERY +gently--there being no room for it on the floor. After this there +was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing more, upon either +occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I may mention a +low sobbing, or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be +nearly inaudible--if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise were +not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed to +RESEMBLE sobbing or sighing--but, of course, it could not have been +either. I rather think it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr. +Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely giving the rein to +one of his hobbies--indulging in one of his fits of artistic +enthusiasm. He had opened his oblong box, in order to feast his +eyes on the pictorial treasure within. There was nothing in this, +however, to make him SOB. I repeat, therefore, that it must have +been simply a freak of my own fancy, distempered by good Captain +Hardy's green tea. just before dawn, on each of the two nights of +which I speak, I distinctly heard Mr. Wyatt replace the lid upon +the oblong box, and force the nails into their old places by means +of the muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued from his state- +room, fully dressed, and proceeded to call Mrs. W. from hers. + +We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape Hatteras, when +there came a tremendously heavy blow from the southwest. We were, +in a measure, prepared for it, however, as the weather had been +holding out threats for some time. Every thing was made snug, alow +and aloft; and as the wind steadily freshened, we lay to, at +length, under spanker and foretopsail, both double-reefed. + +In this trim we rode safely enough for forty-eight hours--the ship +proving herself an excellent sea-boat in many respects, and +shipping no water of any consequence. At the end of this period, +however, the gale had freshened into a hurricane, and our after-- +sail split into ribbons, bringing us so much in the trough of the +water that we shipped several prodigious seas, one immediately +after the other. By this accident we lost three men overboard with +the caboose, and nearly the whole of the larboard bulwarks. +Scarcely had we recovered our senses, before the foretopsail went +into shreds, when we got up a storm staysail and with this did +pretty well for some hours, the ship heading the sea much more +steadily than before. + +The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs of its +abating. The rigging was found to be ill-fitted, and greatly +strained; and on the third day of the blow, about five in the +afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in a heavy lurch to windward, went by +the board. For an hour or more, we tried in vain to get rid of it, +on account of the prodigious rolling of the ship; and, before we +had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and announced four feet of +water in the hold. To add to our dilemma, we found the pumps +choked and nearly useless. + +All was now confusion and despair--but an effort was made to +lighten the ship by throwing overboard as much of her cargo as +could be reached, and by cutting away the two masts that remained. +This we at last accomplished--but we were still unable to do any +thing at the pumps; and, in the meantime, the leak gained on us +very fast. + +At sundown, the gale had sensibly diminished in violence, and as +the sea went down with it, we still entertained faint hopes of +saving ourselves in the boats. At eight P. M., the clouds broke +away to windward, and we had the advantage of a full moon--a piece +of good fortune which served wonderfully to cheer our drooping +spirits. + +After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in getting the +longboat over the side without material accident, and into this we +crowded the whole of the crew and most of the passengers. This +party made off immediately, and, after undergoing much suffering, +finally arrived, in safety, at Ocracoke Inlet, on the third day +after the wreck. + +Fourteen passengers, with the captain, remained on board, resolving +to trust their fortunes to the jolly-boat at the stern. We lowered +it without difficulty, although it was only by a miracle that we +prevented it from swamping as it touched the water. It contained, +when afloat, the captain and his wife, Mr. Wyatt and party, a +Mexican officer, wife, four children, and myself, with a negro +valet. + +We had no room, of course, for any thing except a few positively +necessary instruments, some provisions, and the clothes upon our +backs. No one had thought of even attempting to save any thing +more. What must have been the astonishment of all, then, when +having proceeded a few fathoms from the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up in +the stern-sheets, and coolly demanded of Captain Hardy that the +boat should be put back for the purpose of taking in his oblong +box! + +"Sit down, Mr. Wyatt," replied the captain, somewhat sternly, "you +will capsize us if you do not sit quite still. Our gunwhale is +almost in the water now." + +"The box!" vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing--"the box, I say! +Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight will +be but a trifle--it is nothing--mere nothing. By the mother who +bore you--for the love of Heaven--by your hope of salvation, I +implore you to put back for the box!" + +The captain, for a moment, seemed touched by the earnest appeal of +the artist, but he regained his stern composure, and merely said: + +"Mr. Wyatt, you are mad. I cannot listen to you. Sit down, I say, +or you will swamp the boat. Stay--hold him--seize him!--he is +about to spring overboard! There--I knew it--he is over!" + +As the captain said this, Mr. Wyatt, in fact, sprang from the boat, +and, as we were yet in the lee of the wreck, succeeded, by almost +superhuman exertion, in getting hold of a rope which hung from the +fore-chains. In another moment he was on board, and rushing +frantically down into the cabin. + +In the meantime, we had been swept astern of the ship, and being +quite out of her lee, were at the mercy of the tremendous sea which +was still running. We made a determined effort to put back, but +our little boat was like a feather in the breath of the tempest. +We saw at a glance that the doom of the unfortunate artist was +sealed. + +As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the madman (for +as such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the +companion--way, up which by dint of strength that appeared +gigantic, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in +the extremity of astonishment, he passed, rapidly, several turns of +a three-inch rope, first around the box and then around his body. +In another instant both body and box were in the sea--disappearing +suddenly, at once and forever. + +We lingered awhile sadly upon our oars, with our eyes riveted upon +the spot. At length we pulled away. The silence remained unbroken +for an hour. Finally, I hazarded a remark. + +"Did you observe, captain, how suddenly they sank? Was not that an +exceedingly singular thing? I confess that I entertained some +feeble hope of his final deliverance, when I saw him lash himself +to the box, and commit himself to the sea." + +"They sank as a matter of course," replied the captain, "and that +like a shot. They will soon rise again, however--BUT NOT TILL THE +SALT MELTS." + +"The salt!" I ejaculated. + +"Hush!" said the captain, pointing to the wife and sisters of the +deceased. "We must talk of these things at some more appropriate +time." + + +We suffered much, and made a narrow escape, but fortune befriended +us, as well as our mates in the long-boat. We landed, in fine, +more dead than alive, after four days of intense distress, upon the +beach opposite Roanoke Island. We remained here a week, were not +ill-treated by the wreckers, and at length obtained a passage to +New York. + +About a month after the loss of the "Independence," I happened to +meet Captain Hardy in Broadway. Our conversation turned, +naturally, upon the disaster, and especially upon the sad fate of +poor Wyatt. I thus learned the following particulars. + +The artist had engaged passage for himself, wife, two sisters and a +servant. His wife was, indeed, as she had been represented, a most +lovely, and most accomplished woman. On the morning of the +fourteenth of June (the day in which I first visited the ship), the +lady suddenly sickened and died. The young husband was frantic +with grief--but circumstances imperatively forbade the deferring +his voyage to New York. It was necessary to take to her mother the +corpse of his adored wife, and, on the other hand, the universal +prejudice which would prevent his doing so openly was well known. +Nine-tenths of the passengers would have abandoned the ship rather +than take passage with a dead body. + +In this dilemma, Captain Hardy arranged that the corpse, being +first partially embalmed, and packed, with a large quantity of +salt, in a box of suitable dimensions, should be conveyed on board +as merchandise. Nothing was to be said of the lady's decease; and, +as it was well understood that Mr. Wyatt had engaged passage for +his wife, it became necessary that some person should personate her +during the voyage. This the deceased lady's-maid was easily +prevailed on to do. The extra state-room, originally engaged for +this girl during her mistress' life, was now merely retained. In +this state-room the pseudo-wife, slept, of course, every night. In +the daytime she performed, to the best of her ability, the part of +her mistress--whose person, it had been carefully ascertained, was +unknown to any of the passengers on board. + +My own mistake arose, naturally enough, through too careless, too +inquisitive, and too impulsive a temperament. But of late, it is a +rare thing that I sleep soundly at night. There is a countenance +which haunts me, turn as I will. There is an hysterical laugh +which will forever ring within my ears. + + + +The Gold-Bug + + +What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad! +He hath been bitten by the Tarantula. + --All in the Wrong. + + +Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William +Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been +wealthy: but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To +avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New +Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at +Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. + +This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else +than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at +no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the +mainland by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a +wilderness of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh hen. +The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least +dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the +western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some +miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the +fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, the +bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this +western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the seacoast, is +covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle so much prized +by the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains +the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost +impenetrable coppice, burdening the air with its fragrance. + +In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or +more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small +hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his +acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship--for there was +much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him +well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with +misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm +and melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely employed +them. His chief amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering +along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of shells or +entomological specimens--his collection of the latter might have +been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually +accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had been +manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who could be +induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what he +considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young +"Massa Will." It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand, +conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived +to instill this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the +supervision and guardianship of the wanderer. + +The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very +severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when +a fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18--, +there occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just +before sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut +of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks--my +residence being, at that time, in Charleston, a distance of nine +miles from the island, while the facilities of passage and +repassage were very far behind those of the present day. Upon +reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and getting no reply, +sought for the key where I knew it was secreted, unlocked the door, +and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the hearth. It was a +novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw off an +overcoat, took an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited +patiently the arrival of my hosts. + +Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome. +Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some +marsh hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits--how else +shall I term them?--of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown +bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted +down and secured, with Jupiter's assistance, a scarabaeus which he +believed to be totally new, but in respect to which he wished to +have my opinion on the morrow. + +"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, +and wishing the whole tribe of scarabaei at the devil. + +"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's so +long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me +a visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met +Lieutenant G----, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him +the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the +morning. Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at +sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!" + +"What?--sunrise?" + +"Nonsense! no!--the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color--about +the size of a large hickory nut--with two jet black spots near one +extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. +The antennae are--" + +"Dey ain't NO tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin' on you," +here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit +of him, inside and all, sep him wing--neber feel half so hebby a +bug in my life." + +"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more +earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded; "is that any +reason for your letting the birds burn? The color"--here he turned +to me--"is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You +never saw a more brilliant metallic luster than the scales emit-- +but of this you cannot judge till to-morrow. In the meantime I can +give you some idea of the shape." Saying this, he seated himself +at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no paper. He +looked for some in a drawer, but found none. + +"Never mind," he said at length, "this will answer;" and he drew +from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty +foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he +did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. +When the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising. +As I received it, a loud growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching +at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, +belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, and +loaded me with caresses; for I had shown him much attention during +previous visits. When his gambols were over, I looked at the +paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little puzzled +at what my friend had depicted. + +"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this IS a +strange scarabaeus, I must confess; new to me; never saw anything +like it before--unless it was a skull, or a death's head, which it +more nearly resembles than anything else that has come under MY +observation." + +"A death's head!" echoed Legrand. "Oh--yes--well, it has something +of that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots +look like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth-- +and then the shape of the whole is oval." + +"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I +must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea +of its personal appearance." + +"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw tolerably-- +SHOULD do it at least--have had good masters, and flatter myself +that I am not quite a blockhead." + +"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I, "this is a very +passable SKULL--indeed, I may say that it is a very EXCELLENT +skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of +physiology--and your scarabaeus must be the queerest scarabaeus in +the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling +bit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the +bug Scarabaeus caput hominis, or something of that kind--there are +many similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the +antennae you spoke of?" + +"The antennae!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting +unaccountably warm upon the subject; "I am sure you must see the +antennae. I made them as distinct as they are in the original +insect, and I presume that is sufficient." + +"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have--still I don't see them;" +and I handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing +to ruffle his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn affairs +had taken; his ill humor puzzled me--and, as for the drawing of the +beetle, there were positively NO antennae visible, and the whole +DID bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death's +head. + +He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it, +apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the +design seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his +face grew violently red--in another excessively pale. For some +minutes he continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he +sat. At length he arose, took a candle from the table, and +proceeded to seat himself upon a sea chest in the farthest corner +of the room. Here again he made an anxious examination of the +paper, turning it in all directions. He said nothing, however, and +his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I thought it prudent not to +exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any comment. +Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the paper +carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing desk, which he +locked. He now grew more composed in his demeanor; but his +original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed +not so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore away he +became more and more absorbed in reverie, from which no sallies of +mine could arouse him. It had been my intention to pass the night +at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but, seeing my host in +this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press me +to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with even more than +his usual cordiality. + +It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seen +nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from +his man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so +dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my +friend. + +"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now?--how is your master?" + +"Why, to speak the troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought +be." + +"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain +of?" + +"Dar! dot's it!--him neber 'plain of notin'--but him berry sick for +all dat." + +"VERY sick, Jupiter!--why didn't you say so at once? Is he +confined to bed?" + +"No, dat he aint!--he aint 'fin'd nowhar--dat's just whar de shoe +pinch--my mind is got to be berry hebby 'bout poor Massa Will." + +"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking +about. You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails +him?" + +"Why, massa, 'taint worf while for to git mad about de matter-- +Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him--but den what +make him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he +soldiers up, and as white as a goose? And den he keep a syphon all +de time--" + +"Keeps a what, Jupiter?" + +"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate--de queerest figgurs I +ebber did see. Ise gittin' to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to +keep mighty tight eye 'pon him 'noovers. Todder day he gib me slip +'fore de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a +big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did +come--but Ise sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all--he +looked so berry poorly." + +"Eh?--what?--ah yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be +too severe with the poor fellow--don't flog him, Jupiter--he can't +very well stand it--but can you form no idea of what has occasioned +this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything +unpleasant happened since I saw you?" + +"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant SINCE den--'twas 'FORE +den I'm feared--'twas de berry day you was dare." + +"How? what do you mean." + +"Why, massa, I mean de bug--dare now." + +"The what?" + +"De bug--I'm berry sartin dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere 'bout de +head by dat goole-bug." + +"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?" + +"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff, too. I nebber did see sich a +deuced bug--he kick and he bite eberyting what cum near him. Massa +Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go 'gin mighty quick, I +tell you--den was de time he must ha' got de bite. I didn't like +de look ob de bug mouff, myself, nohow, so I wouldn't take hold oh +him wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece oh paper dat I +found. I rap him up in de paper and stuff a piece of it in he +mouff--dat was de way." + +"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the +beetle, and that the bite made him sick?" + +"I don't think noffin about it--I nose it. What make him dream +'bout de goole so much, if 'taint cause he bit by the goole-bug? +Ise heered 'bout dem goole-bugs 'fore dis." + +"But how do you know he dreams about gold?" + +"How I know? why, 'cause he talk about it in he sleep--dat's how I +nose." + +"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate +circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to- +day?" + +"What de matter, massa?" + +"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?" + +"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;" and here Jupiter handed me a +note which ran thus: + + +"MY DEAR ---- + +"Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you have not +been so foolish as to take offense at any little brusquerie of +mine; but no, that is improbable. + +"Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety. I have +something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether +I should tell it at all. + +"I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup +annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions. +Would you believe it?--he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, +with which to chastise me for giving him the slip, and spending the +day, solus, among the hills on the mainland. I verily believe that +my ill looks alone saved me a flogging. + +"I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met. "If you can, +in any way, make it convenient, come over with Jupiter. DO come. +I wish to see you TO-NIGHT, upon business of importance. I assure +you that it is of the HIGHEST importance. + +"Ever yours, + +"WILLIAM LEGRAND." + + +There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great +uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially from that of +Legrand. What could he be dreaming of? What new crotchet +possessed his excitable brain? What "business of the highest +importance" could HE possibly have to transact? Jupiter's account +of him boded no good. I dreaded lest the continued pressure of +misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled the reason of my +friend. Without a moment's hesitation, therefore, I prepared to +accompany the negro. + +Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all +apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were to +embark. + +"What is the meaning of all this, Jup?" I inquired. + +"Him syfe, massa, and spade." + +"Very true; but what are they doing here?" + +"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis 'pon my buying for +him in de town, and de debbil's own lot of money I had to gib for +em." + +"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your 'Massa +Will' going to do with scythes and spades?" + +"Dat's more dan I know, and debbil take me if I don't b'lieve 'tis +more dan he know too. But it's all cum ob de bug." + +Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose +whole intellect seemed to be absorbed by "de bug," I now stepped +into the boat, and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we +soon ran into the little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, +and a walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about +three in the afternoon when we arrived. Legrand had been awaiting +us in eager expectation. He grasped my hand with a nervous +empressement which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions +already entertained. His countenance was pale even to ghastliness, +and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural luster. After some +inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not knowing what +better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarabaeus from +Lieutenant G----. + +"Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, "I got it from him the +next morning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that +scarabaeus. Do you know that Jupiter is quite right about it?" + +"In what way?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart. + +"In supposing it to be a bug of REAL GOLD." He said this with an +air of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked. + +"This bug is to make my fortune," he continued, with a triumphant +smile; "to reinstate me in my family possessions. Is it any +wonder, then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to +bestow it upon me, I have only to use it properly, and I shall +arrive at the gold of which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me +that scarabaeus!" + +"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug; you +mus' git him for your own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a +grave and stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case +in which it was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabaeus, and, at +that time, unknown to naturalists--of course a great prize in a +scientific point of view. There were two round black spots near +one extremity of the back, and a long one near the other. The +scales were exceedingly hard and glossy, with all the appearance of +burnished gold. The weight of the insect was very remarkable, and, +taking all things into consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter +for his opinion respecting it; but what to make of Legrand's +concordance with that opinion, I could not, for the life of me, +tell. + +"I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had +completed my examination of the beetle, "I sent for you that I +might have your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of +Fate and of the bug--" + +"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainly +unwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go +to bed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get over +this. You are feverish and--" + +"Feel my pulse," said he. + +I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest +indication of fever. + +"But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to +prescribe for you. In the first place go to bed. In the next--" + +"You are mistaken," he interposed, "I am as well as I can expect to +be under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me +well, you will relieve this excitement." + +"And how is this to be done?" + +"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into +the hills, upon the mainland, and, in this expedition, we shall +need the aid of some person in whom we can confide. You are the +only one we can trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement +which you now perceive in me will be equally allayed." + +"I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied; "but do you +mean to say that this infernal beetle has any connection with your +expedition into the hills?" + +"It has." + +"Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd proceeding." + +"I am sorry--very sorry--for we shall have to try it by ourselves." + +"Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad!--but stay!--how long +do you propose to be absent?" + +"Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at +all events, by sunrise." + +"And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of +yours is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to your +satisfaction, you will then return home and follow my advice +implicitly, as that of your physician?" + +"Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to +lose." + +With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four +o'clock--Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with +him the scythe and spades--the whole of which he insisted upon +carrying--more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of +the implements within reach of his master, than from any excess of +industry or complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, +and "dat deuced bug" were the sole words which escaped his lips +during the journey. For my own part, I had charge of a couple of +dark lanterns, while Legrand contented himself with the scarabaeus, +which he carried attached to the end of a bit of whipcord; twirling +it to and fro, with the air of a conjurer, as he went. When I +observed this last, plain evidence of my friend's aberration of +mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I thought it best, +however, to humor his fancy, at least for the present, or until I +could adopt some more energetic measures with a chance of success. +In the meantime I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound him in +regard to the object of the expedition. Having succeeded in +inducing me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold +conversation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my +questions vouchsafed no other reply than "we shall see!" + +We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff, +and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of the mainland, +proceeded in a northwesterly direction, through a tract of country +excessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human footstep +was to be seen. Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only +for an instant, here and there, to consult what appeared to be +certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former occasion. + +In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was +just setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than +any yet seen. It was a species of table-land, near the summit of +an almost inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, +and interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon +the soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating +themselves into the valleys below, merely by the support of the +trees against which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various +directions, gave an air of still sterner solemnity to the scene. + +The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly +overgrown with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it +would have been impossible to force our way but for the scythe; and +Jupiter, by direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us a +path to the foot of an enormously tall tulip tree, which stood, +with some eight or ten oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them +all, and all other trees which I had then ever seen, in the beauty +of its foliage and form, in the wide spread of its branches, and in +the general majesty of its appearance. When we reached this tree, +Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked him if he thought he could +climb it. The old man seemed a little staggered by the question, +and for some moments made no reply. At length he approached the +huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined it with minute +attention. When he had completed his scrutiny, he merely said: + +"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life." + +"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too dark +to see what we are about." + +"How far mus' go up, massa?" inquired Jupiter. + +"Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way to +go--and here--stop! take this beetle with you." + +"De bug, Massa Will!--de goole-bug!" cried the negro, drawing back +in dismay--"what for mus' tote de bug way up de tree?--d--n if I +do!" + +"If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold +of a harmless little dead beetle, why you can carry it up by this +string--but, if you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall +be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel." + +"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently shamed into +compliance; "always want for to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was +only funnin anyhow. ME feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?" +Here he took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and, +maintaining the insect as far from his person as circumstances +would permit, prepared to ascend the tree. + +In youth, the tulip tree, or Liriodendron tulipiferum, the most +magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, +and often rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, in +its riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many +short limbs make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty +of ascension, in the present case, lay more in semblance than in +reality. Embracing the huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with +his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and +resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one or two +narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled himself into the +first great fork, and seemed to consider the whole business as +virtually accomplished. The RISK of the achievement was, in fact, +now over, although the climber was some sixty or seventy feet from +the ground. + +"Which way mus' go now, Massa Will?" he asked. + +"Keep up the largest branch--the one on this side," said Legrand. +The negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little +trouble; ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat +figure could be obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped +it. Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo. + +"How much fudder is got to go?" + +"How high up are you?" asked Legrand. + +"Ebber so fur," replied the negro; "can see de sky fru de top oh de +tree." + +"Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk +and count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have +you passed?" + +"One, two, tree, four, fibe--I done pass fibe big limb, massa, 'pon +dis side." + +"Then go one limb higher." + +In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the +seventh limb was attained. + +"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited, "I want you to +work your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see +anything strange let me know." + +By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor +friend's insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative +but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously +anxious about getting him home. While I was pondering upon what +was best to be done, Jupiter's voice was again heard. + +"Mos feered for to ventur pon dis limb berry far--'tis dead limb +putty much all de way." + +"Did you say it was a DEAD limb, Jupiter?" cried Legrand in a +quavering voice. + +"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail--done up for sartin--done +departed dis here life." + +"What in the name of heaven shall I do?" asked Legrand, seemingly +in the greatest distress. + +"Do!" said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, "why come +home and go to bed. Come now!--that's a fine fellow. It's getting +late, and, besides, you remember your promise." + +"Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least, "do you hear +me?" + +"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain." + +"Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it +VERY rotten." + +"Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in a few moments, +"but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought venture out leetle +way pon de limb by myself, dat's true." + +"By yourself!--what do you mean?" + +"Why, I mean de bug. 'Tis BERRY hebby bug. Spose I drop him down +fuss, an den de limb won't break wid just de weight of one nigger." + +"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, +"what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as +you drop that beetle I'll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do +you hear me?" + +"Yes, massa, needn't hollo at poor nigger dat style." + +"Well! now listen!--if you will venture out on the limb as far as +you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present +of a silver dollar as soon as you get down." + +"I'm gwine, Massa Will--deed I is," replied the negro very +promptly--"mos out to the eend now." + +"OUT TO THE END!" here fairly screamed Legrand; "do you say you are +out to the end of that limb?" + +"Soon be to de eend, massa--o-o-o-o-oh! Lor-gol-a-marcy! what IS +dis here pon de tree?" + +"Well!" cried Legrand, highly delighted, "what is it?" + +"Why 'taint noffin but a skull--somebody bin lef him head up de +tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off." + +"A skull, you say!--very well,--how is it fastened to the limb?-- +what holds it on?" + +"Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why dis berry curious sarcumstance, +pon my word--dare's a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob +it on to de tree." + +"Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you--do you hear?" + +"Yes, massa." + +"Pay attention, then--find the left eye of the skull." + +"Hum! hoo! dat's good! why dey ain't no eye lef at all." + +"Curse your stupidity! do you know your right hand from your left?" + +"Yes, I knows dat--knows all about dat--'tis my lef hand what I +chops de wood wid." + +"To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left eye is on the same +side as your left hand. Now, I suppose, you can find the left eye +of the skull, or the place where the left eye has been. Have you +found it?" + +Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked: + +"Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef hand of de +skull too?--cause de skull aint got not a bit oh a hand at all-- +nebber mind! I got de lef eye now--here de lef eye! what mus do +wid it?" + +Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string will reach-- +but be careful and not let go your hold of the string." + +"All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru +de hole--look out for him dare below!" + +During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person could be seen; +but the beetle, which he had suffered to descend, was now visible +at the end of the string, and glistened, like a globe of burnished +gold, in the last rays of the setting sun, some of which still +faintly illumined the eminence upon which we stood. The scarabaeus +hung quite clear of any branches, and, if allowed to fall, would +have fallen at our feet. Legrand immediately took the scythe, and +cleared with it a circular space, three or four yards in diameter, +just beneath the insect, and, having accomplished this, ordered +Jupiter to let go the string and come down from the tree. + +Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at the precise +spot where the beetle fell, my friend now produced from his pocket +a tape measure. Fastening one end of this at that point of the +trunk of the tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it +reached the peg and thence further unrolled it, in the direction +already established by the two points of the tree and the peg, for +the distance of fifty feet--Jupiter clearing away the brambles with +the scythe. At the spot thus attained a second peg was driven, and +about this, as a center, a rude circle, about four feet in +diameter, described. Taking now a spade himself, and giving one to +Jupiter and one to me, Legrand begged us to set about digging as +quickly as possible. + +To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such amusement at +any time, and, at that particular moment, would willingly have +declined it; for the night was coming on, and I felt much fatigued +with the exercise already taken; but I saw no mode of escape, and +was fearful of disturbing my poor friend's equanimity by a refusal. +Could I have depended, indeed, upon Jupiter's aid, I would have had +no hesitation in attempting to get the lunatic home by force; but I +was too well assured of the old negro's disposition, to hope that +he would assist me, under any circumstances, in a personal contest +with his master. I made no doubt that the latter had been infected +with some of the innumerable Southern superstitions about money +buried, and that his fantasy had received confirmation by the +finding of the scarabaeus, or, perhaps, by Jupiter's obstinacy in +maintaining it to be "a bug of real gold." A mind disposed to +lunacy would readily be led away by such suggestions--especially if +chiming in with favorite preconceived ideas--and then I called to +mind the poor fellow's speech about the beetle's being "the index +of his fortune." Upon the whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, +but, at length, I concluded to make a virtue of necessity--to dig +with a good will, and thus the sooner to convince the visionary, by +ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of the opinion he entertained. + +The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with a zeal +worthy a more rational cause; and, as the glare fell upon our +persons and implements, I could not help thinking how picturesque a +group we composed, and how strange and suspicious our labors must +have appeared to any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled +upon our whereabouts. + +We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said; and our chief +embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the dog, who took exceeding +interest in our proceedings. He, at length, became so obstreperous +that we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in +the vicinity,--or, rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand;-- +for myself, I should have rejoiced at any interruption which might +have enabled me to get the wanderer home. The noise was, at +length, very effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of +the hole with a dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth +up with one of his suspenders, and then returned, with a grave +chuckle, to his task. + +When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached a depth of five +feet, and yet no signs of any treasure became manifest. A general +pause ensued, and I began to hope that the farce was at an end. +Legrand, however, although evidently much disconcerted, wiped his +brow thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the entire +circle of four feet diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the +limit, and went to the farther depth of two feet. Still nothing +appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length +clambered from the pit, with the bitterest disappointment imprinted +upon every feature, and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put +on his coat, which he had thrown off at the beginning of his labor. +In the meantime I made no remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his +master, began to gather up his tools. This done, and the dog +having been unmuzzled, we turned in profound silence toward home. + +We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction, when, with +a loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter, and seized him by the +collar. The astonished negro opened his eyes and mouth to the +fullest extent, let fall the spades, and fell upon his knees. + +"You scoundrel!" said Legrand, hissing out the syllables from +between his clenched teeth--"you infernal black villain!--speak, I +tell you!--answer me this instant, without prevarication!--which-- +which is your left eye?" + +"Oh, my golly, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef eye for sartain?" +roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand upon his RIGHT organ +of vision, and holding it there with a desperate pertinacity, as if +in immediate, dread of his master's attempt at a gouge. + +"I thought so!--I knew it! hurrah!" vociferated Legrand, letting +the negro go and executing a series of curvets and caracols, much +to the astonishment of his valet, who, arising from his knees, +looked, mutely, from his master to myself, and then from myself to +his master. + +"Come! we must go back," said the latter, "the game's not up yet;" +and he again led the way to the tulip tree. + +"Jupiter," said he, when we reached its foot, "come here! was the +skull nailed to the limb with the face outward, or with the face to +the limb?" + +"De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at de eyes good, +widout any trouble." + +"Well, then, was it this eye or that through which you dropped the +beetle?" here Legrand touched each of Jupiter's eyes. + +"'Twas dis eye, massa--de lef eye--jis as you tell me," and here it +was his right eye that the negro indicated. + +"That will do--we must try it again." + +Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or fancied that I +saw, certain indications of method, removed the peg which marked +the spot where the beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to the +westward of its former position. Taking, now, the tape measure +from the nearest point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and +continuing the extension in a straight line to the distance of +fifty feet, a spot was indicated, removed, by several yards, from +the point at which we had been digging. + +Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than in the +former instance, was now described, and we again set to work with +the spade. I was dreadfully weary, but, scarcely understanding +what had occasioned the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer any +great aversion from the labor imposed. I had become most +unaccountably interested--nay, even excited. Perhaps there was +something, amid all the extravagant demeanor of Legrand--some air +of forethought, or of deliberation, which impressed me. I dug +eagerly, and now and then caught myself actually looking, with +something that very much resembled expectation, for the fancied +treasure, the vision of which had demented my unfortunate +companion. At a period when such vagaries of thought most fully +possessed me, and when we had been at work perhaps an hour and a +half, we were again interrupted by the violent howlings of the dog. +His uneasiness, in the first instance, had been, evidently, but the +result of playfulness or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter and +serious tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting to muzzle him, he +made furious resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up the +mold frantically with his claws. In a few seconds he had uncovered +a mass of human bones, forming two complete skeletons, intermingled +with several buttons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust of +decayed woolen. One or two strokes of a spade upturned the blade +of a large Spanish knife, and, as we dug farther, three or four +loose pieces of gold and silver coin came to light. + +At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be restrained, +but the countenance of his master wore an air of extreme +disappointment. He urged us, however, to continue our exertions, +and the words were hardly uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, +having caught the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay +half buried in the loose earth. + +We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of more +intense excitement. During this interval we had fairly unearthed +an oblong chest of wood, which, from its perfect preservation and +wonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some mineralizing +process--perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury. This box was +three feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and a half +feet deep. It was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, +riveted, and forming a kind of open trelliswork over the whole. On +each side of the chest, near the top, were three rings of iron--six +in all--by means of which a firm hold could be obtained by six +persons. Our utmost united endeavors served only to disturb the +coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impossibility +of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole fastenings of the +lid consisted of two sliding bolts. These we drew back--trembling +and panting with anxiety. In an instant, a treasure of +incalculable value lay gleaming before us. As the rays of the +lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upward a glow and a +glare, from a confused heap of gold and of jewels, that absolutely +dazzled our eyes. + +I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which I gazed. +Amazement was, of course, predominant. Legrand appeared exhausted +with excitement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter's countenance +wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in +the nature of things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed +stupefied--thunderstricken. Presently he fell upon his knees in +the pit, and burying his naked arms up to the elbows in gold, let +them there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. At length, +with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy: + +"And dis all cum of de goole-bug! de putty goole-bug! de poor +little goole-bug, what I boosed in that sabage kind oh style! +Ain't you shamed oh yourself, nigger?--answer me dat!" + +It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both master and +valet to the expediency of removing the treasure. It was growing +late, and it behooved us to make exertion, that we might get +everything housed before daylight. It was difficult to say what +should he done, and much time was spent in deliberation--so +confused were the ideas of all. We, finally, lightened the box by +removing two thirds of its contents, when we were enabled, with +some trouble, to raise it from the hole. The articles taken out +were deposited among the brambles, and the dog left to guard them, +with strict orders from Jupiter neither, upon any pretense, to stir +from the spot, nor to open his mouth until our return. We then +hurriedly made for home with the chest; reaching the hut in safety, +but after excessive toil, at one o'clock in the morning. Worn out +as we were, it was not in human nature to do more immediately. We +rested until two, and had supper; starting for the hills +immediately afterwards, armed with three stout sacks, which, by +good luck, were upon the premises. A little before four we arrived +at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as equally as might +be, among us, and, leaving the holes unfilled, again set out for +the hut, at which, for the second time, we deposited our golden +burdens, just as the first faint streaks of the dawn gleamed from +over the treetops in the east. + +We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of +the time denied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three +or four hours' duration, we arose, as if by preconcert, to make +examination of our treasure. + +The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day, +and the greater part of the next night, in a scrutiny of its +contents. There had been nothing like order or arrangement. +Everything had been heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all +with care, we found ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than +we had at first supposed. In coin there was rather more than four +hundred and fifty thousand dollars--estimating the value of the +pieces, as accurately as we could, by the tables of the period. +There was not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique date +and of great variety--French, Spanish, and German money, with a few +English guineas, and some counters, of which we had never seen +specimens before. There were several very large and heavy coins, +so worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions. There +was no American money. The value of the jewels we found more +difficulty in estimating. There were diamonds--some of them +exceedingly large and fine--a hundred and ten in all, and not one +of them small; eighteen rubies of remarkable brilliancy;--three +hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful; and twenty-one +sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken from +their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings +themselves, which we picked out from among the other gold, appeared +to have been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent +identification. Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of +solid gold ornaments; nearly two hundred massive finger and ears +rings; rich chains--thirty of these, if I remember; eighty-three +very large and heavy crucifixes; five gold censers of great value; +a prodigious golden punch bowl, ornamented with richly chased vine +leaves and Bacchanalian figures; with two sword handles exquisitely +embossed, and many other smaller articles which I cannot recollect. +The weight of these valuables exceeded three hundred and fifty +pounds avoirdupois; and in this estimate I have not included one +hundred and ninety-seven superb gold watches; three of the number +being worth each five hundred dollars, if one. Many of them were +very old, and as timekeepers valueless; the works having suffered, +more or less, from corrosion--but all were richly jeweled and in +cases of great worth. We estimated the entire contents of the +chest, that night, at a million and a half of dollars; and upon the +subsequent disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few being +retained for our own use), it was found that we had greatly +undervalued the treasure. + +When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the intense +excitement of the time had, in some measure, subsided, Legrand, who +saw that I was dying with impatience for a solution of this most +extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all the +circumstances connected with it. + +"You remember," said he, "the night when I handed you the rough +sketch I had made of the scarabaeus. You recollect, also, that I +became quite vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled a +death's head. When you first made this assertion I thought you +were jesting; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots on +the back of the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark had +some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic +powers irritated me--for I am considered a good artist--and, +therefore, when you handed me the scrap of parchment, I was about +to crumple it up and throw it angrily into the fire." + +"The scrap of paper, you mean," said I. + +"No; it had much of the appearance of paper, and at first I +supposed it to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I +discovered it at once to be a piece of very thin parchment. It was +quite dirty, you remember. Well, as I was in the very act of +crumpling it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which you had +been looking, and you may imagine my astonishment when I perceived, +in fact, the figure of a death's head just where, it seemed to me, +I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment I was too much +amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my design was very +different in detail from this--although there was a certain +similarity in general outline. Presently I took a candle, and +seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded to +scrutinize the parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw +my own sketch upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first +idea, now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similarity of +outline--at the singular coincidence involved in the fact that, +unknown to me, there should have been a skull upon the other side +of the parchment, immediately beneath my figure of the scarabaeus, +and that this skull, not only in outline, but in size, should so +closely resemble my drawing. I say the singularity of this +coincidence absolutely stupefied me for a time. This is the usual +effect of such coincidences. The mind struggles to establish a +connection--a sequence of cause and effect--and, being unable to do +so, suffers a species of temporary paralysis. But, when I +recovered from this stupor, there dawned upon me gradually a +conviction which startled me even far more than the coincidence. I +began distinctly, positively, to remember that there had been NO +drawing upon the parchment, when I made my sketch of the +scarabaeus. I became perfectly certain of this; for I recollected +turning up first one side and then the other, in search of the +cleanest spot. Had the skull been then there, of course I could +not have failed to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I +felt it impossible to explain; but, even at that early moment, +there seemed to glimmer, faintly, within the most remote and secret +chambers of my intellect, a glow-wormlike conception of that truth +which last night's adventure brought to so magnificent a +demonstration. I arose at once, and putting the parchment securely +away, dismissed all further reflection until I should be alone. + +"When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook +myself to a more methodical investigation of the affair. In the +first place I considered the manner in which the parchment had come +into my possession. The spot where we discovered the scarabaeus +was on the coast of the mainland, about a mile eastward of the +island, and but a short distance above high-water mark. Upon my +taking hold of it, it gave me a sharp bite, which caused me to let +it drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution, before seizing the +insect, which had flown toward him, looked about him for a leaf, or +something of that nature, by which to take hold of it. It was at +this moment that his eyes, and mine also, fell upon the scrap of +parchment, which I then supposed to be paper. It was lying half +buried in the sand, a corner sticking up. Near the spot where we +found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of what appeared to +have been a ship's longboat. The wreck seemed to have been there +for a very great while, for the resemblance to boat timbers could +scarcely be traced. + +"Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, +and gave it to me. Soon afterwards we turned to go home, and on +the way met Lieutenant G----. I showed him the insect, and he +begged me to let him take it to the fort. Upon my consenting, he +thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat pocket, without the +parchment in which it had been wrapped, and which I had continued +to hold in my hand during his inspection. Perhaps he dreaded my +changing my mind, and thought it best to make sure of the prize at +once--you know how enthusiastic he is on all subjects connected +with Natural History. At the same time, without being conscious of +it, I must have deposited the parchment in my own pocket. + +"You remember that when I went to the table, for the purpose of +making a sketch of the beetle, I found no paper where it was +usually kept. I looked in the drawer, and found none there. I +searched my pockets, hoping to find an old letter, when my hand +fell upon the parchment. I thus detail the precise mode in which +it came into my possession, for the circumstances impressed me with +peculiar force. + +"No doubt you will think me fanciful--but I had already established +a kind of CONNECTION. I had put together two links of a great +chain. There was a boat lying upon a seacoast, and not far from +the boat was a parchment--NOT A PAPER--with a skull depicted upon +it. You will, of course, ask 'where is the connection?' I reply +that the skull, or death's head, is the well-known emblem of the +pirate. The flag of the death's head is hoisted in all +engagements. + +"I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not paper. +Parchment is durable--almost imperishable. Matters of little +moment are rarely consigned to parchment; since, for the mere +ordinary purposes of drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well +adapted as paper. This reflection suggested some meaning--some +relevancy--in the death's head. I did not fail to observe, also, +the FORM of the parchment. Although one of its corners had been, +by some accident, destroyed, it could be seen that the original +form was oblong. It was just such a slip, indeed, as might have +been chosen for a memorandum--for a record of something to be long +remembered, and carefully preserved." + +"But," I interposed, "you say that the skull was NOT upon the +parchment when you made the drawing of the beetle. How then do you +trace any connection between the boat and the skull--since this +latter, according to your own admission, must have been designed +(God only knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your +sketching the scarabaeus?" + +"Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the secret, at this +point, I had comparatively little difficulty in solving. My steps +were sure, and could afford but a single result. I reasoned, for +example, thus: When I drew the scarabaeus, there was no skull +apparent upon the parchment. When I had completed the drawing I +gave it to you, and observed you narrowly until you returned it. +YOU, therefore, did not design the skull, and no one else was +present to do it. Then it was not done by human agency. And +nevertheless it was done. + +"At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remember, and DID +remember, with entire distinctness, every incident which occurred +about the period in question. The weather was chilly (oh, rare and +happy accident!), and a fire was blazing upon the hearth. I was +heated with exercise and sat near the table. You, however, had +drawn a chair close to the chimney. Just as I placed the parchment +in your hand, and as you were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, +the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With +your left hand you caressed him and kept him off, while your right, +holding the parchment, was permitted to fall listlessly between +your knees, and in close proximity to the fire. At one moment I +thought the blaze had caught it, and was about to caution you, but, +before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were engaged in its +examination. When I considered all these particulars, I doubted +not for a moment that HEAT had been the agent in bringing to light, +upon the parchment, the skull which I saw designed upon it. You +are well aware that chemical preparations exist, and have existed +time out of mind, by means of which it is possible to write upon +either paper or vellum, so that the characters shall become visible +only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested in +aqua regia, and diluted with four times its weight of water, is +sometimes employed; a green tint results. The regulus of cobalt, +dissolved in spirit of niter, gives a red. These colors disappear +at longer or shorter intervals after the material written upon +cools, but again become apparent upon the reapplication of heat. + +"I now scrutinized the death's head with care. Its outer edges-- +the edges of the drawing nearest the edge of the vellum--were far +more DISTINCT than the others. It was clear that the action of the +caloric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a +fire, and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing +heat. At first, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint +lines in the skull; but, upon persevering in the experiment, there +became visible, at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to +the spot in which the death's head was delineated, the figure of +what I at first supposed to be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, +satisfied me that it was intended for a kid." + +"Ha! ha!" said I, "to be sure I have no right to laugh at you--a +million and a half of money is too serious a matter for mirth--but +you are not about to establish a third link in your chain--you will +not find any especial connection between your pirates and a goat-- +pirates, you know, have nothing to do with goats; they appertain to +the farming interest." + +"But I have just said that the figure was NOT that of a goat." + +"Well, a kid then--pretty much the same thing." + +"Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand. "You may have +heard of one CAPTAIN Kidd. I at once looked upon the figure of the +animal as a kind of punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say +signature; because its position upon the vellum suggested this +idea. The death's head at the corner diagonally opposite, had, in +the same manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put +out by the absence of all else--of the body to my imagined +instrument--of the text for my context." + +"I presume you expected to find a letter between the stamp and the +signature." + +"Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly +impressed with a presentiment of some vast good fortune impending. +I can scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire +than an actual belief;--but do you know that Jupiter's silly words, +about the bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect upon my +fancy? And then the series of accidents and coincidents--these +were so VERY extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it +was that these events should have occurred upon the SOLE day of all +the year in which it has been, or may be sufficiently cool for +fire, and that without the fire, or without the intervention of the +dog at the precise moment in which he appeared, I should never have +become aware of the death's head, and so never the possessor of the +treasure?" + +"But proceed--I am all impatience." + +"Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current--the +thousand vague rumors afloat about money buried, somewhere upon the +Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his associates. These rumors must have +had some foundation in fact. And that the rumors have existed so +long and so continuous, could have resulted, it appeared to me, +only from the circumstance of the buried treasures still REMAINING +entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder for a time, and +afterwards reclaimed it, the rumors would scarcely have reached us +in their present unvarying form. You will observe that the stories +told are all about money-seekers, not about money-finders. Had the +pirate recovered his money, there the affair would have dropped. +It seemed to me that some accident--say the loss of a memorandum +indicating its locality--had deprived him of the means of +recovering it, and that this accident had become known to his +followers, who otherwise might never have heard that the treasure +had been concealed at all, and who, busying themselves in vain, +because unguided, attempts to regain it, had given first birth, and +then universal currency, to the reports which are now so common. +Have you ever heard of any important treasure being unearthed along +the coast?" + +"Never." + +"But that Kidd's accumulations were immense, is well known. I took +it for granted, therefore, that the earth still held them; and you +will scarcely be surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope, +nearly amounting to certainty, that the parchment so strangely +found involved a lost record of the place of deposit." + +"But how did you proceed?" + +"I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat, +but nothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating +of dirt might have something to do with the failure: so I carefully +rinsed the parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, having +done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downward, and +put the pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, +the pan having become thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and, +to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in several places, with +what appeared to be figures arranged in lines. Again I placed it +in the pan, and suffered it to remain another minute. Upon taking +it off, the whole was just as you see it now." + +Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, submitted it to my +inspection. The following characters were rudely traced, in a red +tint, between the death's head and the goat: + + +"53++!305))6*;4826)4+)4+).;806*;48!8]60))85;1+8*:+(;:+*8!83(88)5*!; +46(;88*96*?;8)*+(;485);5*!2:*+(;4956*2(5*-4)8]8*;4069285);)6!8)4++; +1(+9;48081;8:8+1;48!85;4)485!528806*81(+9;48;(88;4(+?34;48)4+;161;: +188;+?;" + + +"But," said I, returning him the slip, "I am as much in the dark as +ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting me upon my solution +of this enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable to earn +them." + +"And yet," said Legrand, "the solution is by no means so difficult +as you might be led to imagine from the first hasty inspection of +the characters. These characters, as anyone might readily guess, +form a cipher--that is to say, they convey a meaning; but then from +what is known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of +constructing any of the more abstruse cryptographs. I made up my +mind, at once, that this was of a simple species--such, however, as +would appear, to the crude intellect of the sailor, absolutely +insoluble without the key." + +"And you really solved it?" + +"Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand +times greater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led +me to take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted +whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which +human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, +having once established connected and legible characters, I +scarcely gave a thought to the mere difficulty of developing their +import. + +"In the present case--indeed in all cases of secret writing--the +first question regards the LANGUAGE of the cipher; for the +principles of solution, so far, especially, as the more simple +ciphers are concerned, depend upon, and are varied by, the genius +of the particular idiom. In general, there is no alternative but +experiment (directed by probabilities) of every tongue known to him +who attempts the solution, until the true one be attained. But, +with the cipher now before us, all difficulty was removed by the +signature. The pun upon the word 'Kidd' is appreciable in no other +language than the English. But for this consideration I should +have begun my attempts with the Spanish and French, as the tongues +in which a secret of this kind would most naturally have been +written by a pirate of the Spanish main. As it was, I assumed the +cryptograph to be English. + +"You observe there are no divisions between the words. Had there +been divisions the task would have been comparatively easy. In +such cases I should have commenced with a collation and analysis of +the shorter words, and, had a word of a single letter occurred, as +is most likely, (a or I, for example,) I should have considered the +solution as assured. But, there being no division, my first step +was to ascertain the predominant letters, as well as the least +frequent. Counting all, I constructed a table thus: + + +Of the character 8 there are 33. + ; " 26. + 4 " 19. + +) " 16. + * " 13. + 5 " 12. + 6 " 11. + !1 " 8. + 0 " 6. + 92 " 5. + :3 " 4. + ? " 3. + ] " 2. + -. " 1. + + +"Now, in English, the letter which most frequently occurs is e. +Afterwards, the succession runs thus: a o i d h n r s t u y c f g l +m w b k p q x z. E predominates so remarkably, that an individual +sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is not the +prevailing character. + +"Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the groundwork for +something more than a mere guess. The general use which may be +made of the table is obvious--but, in this particular cipher, we +shall only very partially require its aid. As our predominant +character is 8, we will commence by assuming it as the e of the +natural alphabet. To verify the supposition, let us observe if the +8 be seen often in couples--for e is doubled with great frequency +in English--in such words, for example, as 'meet,' 'fleet,' +'speed,' 'seen,' 'been,' 'agree,' etc. In the present instance we +see it doubled no less than five times, although the cryptograph is +brief. + +"Let us assume 8, then, as e. Now, of all WORDS in the language, +'the' is most usual; let us see, therefore, whether there are not +repetitions of any three characters, in the same order of +collocation, the last of them being 8. If we discover repetitions +of such letters, so arranged, they will most probably represent the +word 'the.' Upon inspection, we find no less than seven such +arrangements, the characters being ;48. We may, therefore, assume +that ; represents t, 4 represents h, and 8 represents e--the last +being now well confirmed. Thus a great step has been taken. + +"But, having established a single word, we are enabled to establish +a vastly important point; that is to say, several commencements and +terminations of other words. Let us refer, for example, to the +last instance but one, in which the combination ;48 occurs--not far +from the end of the cipher. We know that the ; immediately ensuing +is the commencement of a word, and, of the six characters +succeeding this 'the,' we are cognizant of no less than five. Let +us set these characters down, thus, by the letters we know them to +represent, leaving a space for the unknown-- + + +t eeth. + + +"Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the 'th,' as forming no +portion of the word commencing with the first t; since, by +experiment of the entire alphabet for a letter adapted to the +vacancy, we perceive that no word can be formed of which this th +can be a part. We are thus narrowed into + + +t ee, + + +and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before, we arrive +at the word 'tree,' as the sole possible reading. We thus gain +another letter, r, represented by (, with the words 'the tree' in +juxtaposition. + +"Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we again see the +combination ;48, and employ it by way of TERMINATION to what +immediately precedes. We have thus this arrangement: + + +the tree ;4(4+?34 the, + + +or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads thus: + + +the tree thr+?3h the. + + +"Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we leave blank +spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus: + + +the tree thr...h the, + + +when the word 'through' makes itself evident at once. But this +discovery gives us three new letters, o, u, and g, represented by ++, ?, and 3. + +"Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combinations of +known characters, we find, not very far from the beginning, this +arrangement, + + +83(88, or egree, + + +which plainly, is the conclusion of the word 'degree,' and gives us +another letter, d, represented by !. + +"Four letters beyond the word 'degree,' we perceive the combination + + +;46(;88. + + +"Translating the known characters, and representing the unknown by +dots, as before, we read thus: + + +th.rtee, + + +an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word thirteen,' and +again furnishing us with two new characters, i and n, represented +by 6 and *. + +"Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph, we find the +combination, + + +53++!. + + +"Translating as before, we obtain + + +.good, + + +which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the first two +words are 'A good.' + +"It is now time that we arrange our key, as far as discovered, in a +tabular form, to avoid confusion. It will stand thus: + + +5 represents a +! " d +8 " e +3 " g +4 " h +6 " i +* " n ++ " o +( " r +; " t +? " u + + +"We have, therefore, no less than eleven of the most important +letters represented, and it will be unnecessary to proceed with the +details of the solution. I have said enough to convince you that +ciphers of this nature are readily soluble, and to give you some +insight into the rationale of their development. But be assured +that the specimen before us appertains to the very simplest species +of cryptograph. It now only remains to give you the full +translation of the characters upon the parchment, as unriddled. +Here it is: + + +"'A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat forty-one +degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by north main branch +seventh limb east side shoot from the left eye of the death's head +a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out.'" + + +"But," said I, "the enigma seems still in as bad a condition as +ever. How is it possible to extort a meaning from all this jargon +about 'devil's seats,' 'death's heads,' and 'bishop's hostels'?" + +"I confess," replied Legrand, "that the matter still wears a +serious aspect, when regarded with a casual glance. My first +endeavor was to divide the sentence into the natural division +intended by the cryptographist." + +"You mean, to punctuate it?" + +"Something of that kind." + +"But how was it possible to effect this?" + +"I reflected that it had been a POINT with the writer to run his +words together without division, so as to increase the difficulty +of solution. Now, a not overacute man, in pursuing such an object, +would be nearly certain to overdo the matter. When, in the course +of his composition, he arrived at a break in his subject which +would naturally require a pause, or a point, he would be +exceedingly apt to run his characters, at this place, more than +usually close together. If you will observe the MS., in the +present instance, you will easily detect five such cases of unusual +crowding. Acting upon this hint I made the division thus: + + +"'A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat--forty- +one degrees and thirteen minutes--northeast and by north--main +branch seventh limb east side--shoot from the left eye of the +death's head--a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet +out.'" + + +"Even this division," said I, "leaves me still in the dark." + +"It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, "for a few days; +during which I made diligent inquiry in the neighborhood of +Sullivan's Island, for any building which went by name of the +'Bishop's Hotel'; for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word +'hostel.' Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the +point of extending my sphere of search, and proceeding in a more +systematic manner, when, one morning, it entered into my head, +quite suddenly, that this 'Bishop's Hostel' might have some +reference to an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, time out +of mind, had held possession of an ancient manor house, about four +miles to the northward of the island. I accordingly went over to +the plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries among the older +negroes of the place. At length one of the most aged of the women +said that she had heard of such a place as Bessop's Castle, and +thought that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a +castle, nor a tavern, but a high rock. + +"I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some demur, +she consented to accompany me to the spot. We found it without +much difficulty, when, dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the +place. The 'castle' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs +and rocks--one of the latter being quite remarkable for its height +as well as for its insulated and artificial appearance. I +clambered to its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what +should be next done. + +"While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon a narrow ledge +in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit +upon which I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, +and was not more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just +above it gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed +chairs used by our ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the +'devil's seat' alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the +full secret of the riddle. + +"The 'good glass,' I knew, could have reference to nothing but a +telescope; for the word 'glass' is rarely employed in any other +sense by seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a telescope to be +used, and a definite point of view, ADMITTING NO VARIATION, from +which to use it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, +'forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes,' and 'northeast and by +north,' were intended as directions for the leveling of the glass. +Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried home, procured a +telescope, and returned to the rock. + +"I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was impossible +to retain a seat upon it except in one particular position. This +fact confirmed my preconceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. +Of course, the 'forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes' could +allude to nothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since +the horizontal direction was clearly indicated by the words, +'northeast and by north.' This latter direction I at once +established by means of a pocket compass; then, pointing the glass +as nearly at an angle of forty-one degrees of elevation as I could +do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my +attention was arrested by a circular rift or opening in the foliage +of a large tree that overtopped its fellows in the distance. In +the center of this rift I perceived a white spot, but could not, at +first, distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the +telescope, I again looked, and now made it out to be a human skull. + +"Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the enigma +solved; for the phrase 'main branch, seventh limb, east side,' +could refer only to the position of the skull upon the tree, while +'shoot from the left eye of the death's head' admitted, also, of +but one interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. +I perceived that the design was to drop a bullet from the left eye +of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other words, a straight +line, drawn from the nearest point of the trunk 'through the shot' +(or the spot where the bullet fell), and thence extended to a +distance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point--and +beneath this point I thought it at least POSSIBLE that a deposit of +value lay concealed." + +"All this," I said, "is exceedingly clear, and, although ingenious, +still simple and explicit. When you left the Bishop's Hotel, what +then?" + +"Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turned +homeward. The instant that I left 'the devil's seat,' however, the +circular rift vanished; nor could I get a glimpse of it afterwards, +turn as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this +whole business, is the fact (for repeated experiment has convinced +me it IS a fact) that the circular opening in question is visible +from no other attainable point of view than that afforded by the +narrow ledge upon the face of the rock. + +"In this expedition to the 'Bishop's Hotel' I had been attended by +Jupiter, who had, no doubt, observed, for some weeks past, the +abstraction of my demeanor, and took especial care not to leave me +alone. But, on the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to +give him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. +After much toil I found it. When I came home at night my valet +proposed to give me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I +believe you are as well acquainted as myself." + +"I suppose," said I, "you missed the spot, in the first attempt at +digging, through Jupiter's stupidity in letting the bug fall +through the right instead of through the left eye of the skull." + +"Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about two inches and +a half in the 'shot'--that is to say, in the position of the peg +nearest the tree; and had the treasure been BENEATH the 'shot,' the +error would have been of little moment; but 'the shot,' together +with the nearest point of the tree, were merely two points for the +establishment of a line of direction; of course the error, however +trivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded with the line, +and by the time we had gone fifty feet threw us quite off the +scent. But for my deep-seated impressions that treasure was here +somewhere actually buried, we might have had all our labor in +vain." + +"But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swinging the beetle-- +how excessively odd! I was sure you were mad. And why did you +insist upon letting fall the bug, instead of a bullet, from the +skull?" + +"Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your evident +suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to punish you +quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober mystification. +For this reason I swung the beetle, and for this reason I let it +fall from the tree. An observation of yours about its great weight +suggested the latter idea." + +"Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzles me. +What are we to make of the skeletons found in the hole?" + +"That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. +There seems, however, only one plausible way of accounting for +them--and yet it is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my +suggestion would imply. It is clear that Kidd--if Kidd indeed +secreted this treasure, which I doubt not--it is clear that he must +have had assistance in the labor. But this labor concluded, he may +have thought it expedient to remove all participants in his secret. +Perhaps a couple of blows with a mattock were sufficient, while his +coadjutors were busy in the pit; perhaps it required a dozen--who +shall tell?" + + + +Washington Irving + +Wolfert Webber, or Golden Dreams + + +In the year of grace one thousand seven hundred and--blank--for I +do not remember the precise date; however, it was somewhere in the +early part of the last century,--there lived in the ancient city of +the Manhattoes a worthy burgher, Wolfert Webber by name. He was +descended from old Cobus Webber of the Brill[1] in Holland, one of +the original settlers, famous for introducing the cultivation of +cabbages, and who came over to the province during the +protectorship of Oloffe Van Kortlandt, otherwise called "the +Dreamer." + + +[1] The Brill is a fortified seaport of Holland, on the Meuse +River, near Rotterdam. + + +The field in which Cobus Webber first planted himself and his +cabbages had remained ever since in the family, who continued in +the same line of husbandry with that praiseworthy perseverance for +which our Dutch burghers are noted. The whole family genius, +during several generations, was devoted to the study and +development of this one noble vegetable, and to this concentration +of intellect may doubtless be ascribed the prodigious renown to +which the Webber cabbages attained. + +The Webber dynasty continued in uninterrupted succession, and never +did a line give more unquestionable proofs of legitimacy. The +eldest son succeeded to the looks as well as the territory of his +sire, and had the portraits of this line of tranquil potentates +been taken, they would have presented a row of heads marvelously +resembling, in shape and magnitude, the vegetables over which they +reigned. + +The seat of government continued unchanged in the family mansion,-- +a Dutch-built house, with a front, or rather gable end, of yellow +brick, tapering to a point, with the customary iron weathercock at +the top. Everything about the building bore the air of long- +settled ease and security. Flights of martins peopled the little +coops nailed against its walls, and swallows built their nests +under the eaves, and everyone knows that these house-loving birds +bring good luck to the dwelling where they take up their abode. In +a bright summer morning in early summer, it was delectable to hear +their cheerful notes as they sported about in the pure, sweet air, +chirping forth, as it were, the greatness and prosperity of the +Webbers. + +Thus quietly and comfortably did this excellent family vegetate +under the shade of a mighty buttonwood tree, which by little and +little grew so great as entirely to overshadow their palace. The +city gradually spread its suburbs round their domain. Houses +sprang up to interrupt their prospects. The rural lanes in the +vicinity began to grow into the bustle and populousness of streets; +in short, with all the habits of rustic life they began to find +themselves the inhabitants of a city. Still, however, they +maintained their hereditary character and hereditary possessions, +with all the tenacity of petty German princes in the midst of the +empire. Wolfert was the last of the line, and succeeded to the +patriarchal bench at the door, under the family tree, and swayed +the scepter of his fathers,--a kind of rural potentate in the midst +of the metropolis. + +To share the cares and sweets of sovereignty he had taken unto +himself a helpmate, one of that excellent kind called "stirring +women"; that is to say, she was one of those notable little +housewives who are always busy where there is nothing to do. Her +activity, however, took one particular direction,--her whole life +seemed devoted to intense knitting; whether at home or abroad, +walking or sitting, her needles were continually in motion, and it +is even affirmed that by her unwearied industry she very nearly +supplied her household with stockings throughout the year. This +worthy couple were blessed with one daughter who was brought up +with great tenderness and care; uncommon pains had been taken with +her education, so that she could stitch in every variety of way, +make all kinds of pickles and preserves, and mark her own name on a +sampler. The influence of her taste was seen also in the family +garden, where the ornamental began to mingle with the useful; whole +rows of fiery marigolds and splendid hollyhocks bordered the +cabbage beds, and gigantic sunflowers lolled their broad, jolly +faces over the fences, seeming to ogle most affectionately the +passers-by. + +Thus reigned and vegetated Wolfert Webber over his paternal acres, +peacefully and contentedly. Not but that, like all other +sovereigns, he had his occasional cares and vexations. The growth +of his native city sometimes caused him annoyance. His little +territory gradually became hemmed in by streets and houses, which +intercepted air and sunshine. He was now and then subjected to the +eruptions of the border population that infest the streets of a +metropolis, who would make midnight forays into his dominions, and +carry off captive whole platoons of his noblest subjects. Vagrant +swine would make a descent, too, now and then, when the gate was +left open, and lay all waste before them; and mischievous urchins +would decapitate the illustrious sunflowers, the glory of the +garden, as they lolled their heads so fondly over the walls. Still +all these were petty grievances, which might now and then ruffle +the surface of his mind, as a summer breeze will ruffle the surface +of a mill pond, but they could not disturb the deep-seated quiet of +his soul. He would but seize a trusty staff that stood behind the +door, issue suddenly out, and anoint the back of the aggressor, +whether pig or urchin, and then return within doors, marvelously +refreshed and tranquilized. + +The chief cause of anxiety to honest Wolfert, however, was the +growing prosperity of the city. The expenses of living doubled and +trebled, but he could not double and treble the magnitude of his +cabbages, and the number of competitors prevented the increase of +price; thus, therefore, while everyone around him grew richer, +Wolfert grew poorer, and he could not, for the life of him, +perceive how the evil was to be remedied. + +This growing care, which increased from day to day, had its gradual +effect upon our worthy burgher, insomuch that it at length +implanted two or three wrinkles in his brow, things unknown before +in the family of the Webbers, and it seemed to pinch up the corners +of his cocked hat into an expression of anxiety totally opposite to +the tranquil, broad-brimmed, low-crowned beavers of his illustrious +progenitors. + +Perhaps even this would not have materially disturbed the serenity +of his mind had he had only himself and his wife to care for; but +there was his daughter gradually growing to maturity, and all the +world knows that when daughters begin to ripen, no fruit nor flower +requires so much looking after. I have no talent at describing +female charms, else fain would I depict the progress of this little +Dutch beauty: how her blue eyes grew deeper and deeper, and her +cherry lips redder and redder, and how she ripened and ripened, and +rounded and rounded, in the opening breath of sixteen summers, +until, in her seventeenth spring, she seemed ready to burst out of +her bodice, like a half-blown rosebud. + +Ah, well-a-day! Could I but show her as she was then, tricked out +on a Sunday morning in the hereditary finery of the old Dutch +clothespress, of which her mother had confided to her the key! The +wedding dress of her grandmother, modernized for use, with sundry +ornaments, handed down as heirlooms in the family. Her pale brown +hair smoothed with buttermilk in flat, waving lines on each side of +her fair forehead. The chain of yellow, virgin gold that encircled +her neck; the little cross that just rested at the entrance of a +soft valley of happiness, as if it would sanctify the place. The-- +but pooh! it is not for an old man like me to be prosing about +female beauty; suffice it to say, Amy had attained her seventeenth +year. Long since had her sampler exhibited hearts in couples +desperately transfixed with arrows, and true lovers' knots worked +in deep blue silk, and it was evident she began to languish for +some more interesting occupation than the rearing of sunflowers or +pickling of cucumbers. + +At this critical period of female existence, when the heart within +a damsel's bosom, like its emblem, the miniature which hangs +without, is apt to be engrossed by a single image, a new visitor +began to make his appearance under the roof of Wolfert Webber. +This was Dirk Waldron, the only son of a poor widow, but who could +boast of more fathers than any lad in the province, for his mother +had had four husbands, and this only child, so that, though born in +her last wedlock, he might fairly claim to be the tardy fruit of a +long course of cultivation. This son of four fathers united the +merits and the vigor of all his sires. If he had not had a great +family before him he seemed likely to have a great one after him, +for you had only to look at the fresh, buxom youth to see that he +was formed to be the founder of a mighty race. + +This youngster gradually became an intimate visitor of the family. +He talked little, but he sat long. He filled the father's pipe +when it was empty, gathered up the mother's knitting needle, or +ball of worsted, when it fell to the ground, stroked the sleek coat +of the tortoise-shell cat, and replenished the teapot for the +daughter from the bright copper kettle that sang before the fire. +All these quiet little offices may seem of trifling import, but +when true love is translated into Low Dutch it is in this way that +it eloquently expresses itself. They were not lost upon the Webber +family. The winning youngster found marvelous favor in the eyes of +the mother; the tortoise-shell cat, albeit the most staid and +demure of her kind, gave indubitable signs of approbation of his +visits; the teakettle seemed to sing out a cheering note of welcome +at his approach; and if the sly glances of the daughter might be +rightly read, as she sat bridling and dimpling, and sewing by her +mother's side, she was not a whit behind Dame Webber, or grimalkin, +or the teakettle, in good will. + +Wolfert alone saw nothing of what was going on. Profoundly wrapt +up in meditation on the growth of the city and his cabbages, he sat +looking in the fire, and puffing his pipe in silence. One night, +however, as the gentle Amy, according to custom, lighted her lover +to the outer door, and he, according to custom, took his parting +salute, the smack resounded so vigorously through the long, silent +entry as to startle even the dull ear of Wolfert. He was slowly +roused to a new source of anxiety. It had never entered into his +head that this mere child, who, as it seemed, but the other day had +been climbing about his knees and playing with dolls and baby +houses, could all at once be thinking of lovers and matrimony. He +rubbed his eyes, examined into the fact, and really found that +while he had been dreaming of other matters, she had actually grown +to be a woman, and, what was worse, had fallen in love. Here arose +new cares for Wolfert. He was a kind father, but he was a prudent +man. The young man was a lively, stirring lad, but then he had +neither money nor land. Wolfert's ideas all ran in one channel, +and he saw no alternative in case of a marriage but to portion off +the young couple with a corner of his cabbage garden, the whole of +which was barely sufficient for the support of his family. + +Like a prudent father, therefore, he determined to nip this passion +in the bud, and forbade the youngster the house, though sorely did +it go against his fatherly heart, and many a silent tear did it +cause in the bright eye of his daughter. She showed herself, +however, a pattern of filial piety and obedience. She never pouted +and sulked; she never flew in the face of parental authority; she +never flew into a passion, nor fell into hysterics, as many +romantic, novel-read young ladies would do. Not she, indeed. She +was none such heroical, rebellious trumpery, I'll warrant ye. On +the contrary, she acquiesced like an obedient daughter, shut the +street door in her lover's face, and if ever she did grant him an +interview, it was either out of the kitchen window or over the +garden fence. + +Wolfert was deeply cogitating these matters in his mind, and his +brow wrinkled with unusual care, as he wended his way one Saturday +afternoon to a rural inn, about two miles from the city. It was a +favorite resort of the Dutch part of the community, from being +always held by a Dutch line of landlords, and retaining an air and +relish of the good old times. It was a Dutch-built house, that had +probably been a country seat of some opulent burgher in the early +time of the settlement. It stood near a point of land called +Corlear's Hook,[1] which stretches out into the Sound, and against +which the tide, at its flux and reflux, sets with extraordinary +rapidity. The venerable and somewhat crazy mansion was +distinguished from afar by a grove of elms and sycamores that +seemed to wave a hospitable invitation, while a few weeping +willows, with their dank, drooping foliage, resembling falling +waters, gave an idea of coolness that rendered it an attractive +spot during the heats of summer. + + +[1] A point of land at the bend of the East River below Grand +Street, New York City. + + +Here, therefore, as I said, resorted many of the old inhabitants of +the Manhattoes, where, while some played at shuffleboard[1] and +quoits,[2] and ninepins, others smoked a deliberate pipe, and +talked over public affairs. + + +[1] A game played by pushing or shaking pieces of money or metal so +as to make them reach certain marks on a board. + +[2] A game played by pitching a flattened, ring-shaped piece of +iron, called a quoit, at a fixed object. + + +It was on a blustering autumnal afternoon that Wolfert made his +visit to the inn. The grove of elms and willows was stripped of +its leaves, which whirled in rustling eddies about the fields. The +ninepin alley was deserted, for the premature chilliness of the day +had driven the company within doors. As it was Saturday afternoon +the habitual club was in session, composed principally of regular +Dutch burghers, though mingled occasionally with persons of various +character and country, as is natural in a place of such motley +population. + +Beside the fireplace, in a huge, leather-bottomed armchair, sat the +dictator of this little world, the venerable Rem, or, as it was +pronounced, "Ramm" Rapelye. He was a man of Walloon[1] race, and +illustrious for the antiquity of his line, his great-grandmother +having been the first white child born in the province. But he was +still more illustrious for his wealth and dignity. He had long +filled the noble office of alderman, and was a man to whom the +governor himself took off his hat. He had maintained possession of +the leather-bottomed chair from time immemorial, and had gradually +waxed in bulk as he sat in his seat of government, until in the +course of years he filled its whole magnitude. His word was +decisive with his subjects, for he was so rich a man that he was +never expected to support any opinion by argument. The landlord +waited on him with peculiar officiousness,--not that he paid better +than his neighbors, but then the coin of a rich man seems always to +be so much more acceptable. The landlord had ever a pleasant word +and a joke to insinuate in the ear of the august Ramm. It is true +Ramm never laughed, and, indeed, ever maintained a mastiff-like +gravity and even surliness of aspect; yet he now and then rewarded +mine host with a token of approbation, which, though nothing more +nor less than a kind of grunt, still delighted the landlord more +than a broad laugh from a poorer man. + + +[1] A people of French origin, inhabiting the frontiers between +France and Flanders. A colony of one hundred and ten Walloons came +to New York in 1624. + + +"This will be a rough night for the money diggers," said mine host, +as a gust of wind bowled round the house and rattled at the +windows. + +"What! are they at their works again?" said an English half-pay +captain, with one eye, who was a very frequent attendant at the +inn. + +"Aye are they," said the landlord, "and well may they be. They've +had luck of late. They say a great pot of money has been dug up in +the fields just behind Stuyvesant's orchard. Folks think it must +have been buried there in old times by Peter Stuyvesant, the Dutch +governor." + +"Fudge!" said the one-eyed man of war, as he added a small portion +of water to a bottom of brandy. + +"Well, you may believe it or not, as you please," said mine host, +somewhat nettled, "but everybody knows that the old governor buried +a great deal of his money at the time of the Dutch troubles, when +the English redcoats seized on the province. They say, too, the +old gentleman walks, aye, and in the very same dress that he wears +in the picture that hangs up in the family house." + +"Fudge!" said the half-pay officer. + +"Fudge, if you please! But didn't Corney Van Zandt see him at +midnight, stalking about in the meadow with his wooden leg, and a +drawn sword in his hand, that flashed like fire? And what can he +be walking for but because people have been troubling the place +where he buried his money in old times?" + +Here the landlord was interrupted by several guttural sounds from +Ramm Rapelye, betokening that he was laboring with the unusual +production of an idea. As he was too great a man to be slighted by +a prudent publican, mine host respectfully paused until he should +deliver himself. The corpulent frame of this mighty burgher now +gave all the symptoms of a volcanic mountain on the point of an +eruption. First there was a certain heaving of the abdomen, not +unlike an earthquake; then was emitted a cloud of tobacco smoke +from that crater, his mouth; then there was a kind of rattle in the +throat, as if the idea were working its way up through a region of +phlegm; then there were several disjointed members of a sentence +thrown out, ending in a cough; at length his voice forced its way +into a slow, but absolute tone of a man who feels the weight of his +purse, if not of his ideas, every portion of his speech being +marked by a testy puff of tobacco smoke. + +"Who talks of old Peter Stuyvesant's walking? (puff). Have people +no respect for persons? (puff--puff). Peter Stuyvesant knew better +what to do with his money than to bury it (puff). I know the +Stuyvesant family (puff), every one of them (puff); not a more +respectable family in the province (puff)--old standards (puff)-- +warm householders (puff)--none of your upstarts (puff--puff--puff). +Don't talk to me of Peter Stuyvesant's walking (puff--puff--puff-- +puff)." + +Here the redoubtable Ramm contracted his brow, clasped up his mouth +till it wrinkled at each corner, and redoubled his smoking with +such vehemence that the cloudy volumes soon wreathed round his +head, as the smoke envelops the awful summit of Mount Aetna. + +A general silence followed the sudden rebuke of this very rich man. +The subject, however, was too interesting to be readily abandoned. +The conversation soon broke forth again from the lips of Peechy +Prauw Van Hook, the chronicler of the club, one of those prosing, +narrative old men who seem to be troubled with an incontinence of +words as they grow old. + +Peechy could, at any time, tell as many stories in an evening as +his hearers could digest in a month. He now resumed the +conversation by affirming that, to his knowledge, money had, at +different times, been digged up in various parts of the island. +The lucky persons who had discovered them had always dreamed of +them three times beforehand, and, what was worthy of remark, those +treasures had never been found but by some descendant of the good +old Dutch families, which clearly proved that they had been buried +by Dutchmen in the olden time. + +"Fiddlestick with your Dutchmen!" cried the half-pay officer. "The +Dutch had nothing to do with them. They were all buried by Kidd +the pirate, and his crew." + +Here a keynote was touched that roused the whole company. The name +of Captain Kidd was like a talisman in those times, and was +associated with a thousand marvelous stories. + +The half-pay officer took the lead, and in his narrations fathered +upon Kidd all the plunderings and exploits of Morgan,[1] +Blackbeard,[2] and the whole list of bloody buccaneers. + + +[1] Sir Henry Morgan (1637-90), a noted Welsh buccaneer. He was +captured and sent to England for trial, but Charles II., instead of +punishing him, knighted him, and subsequently appointed him +governor of Jamaica. + +[2] Edward Teach, one of the most cruel of the pirates, took +command of a pirate ship in 1717, and thereafter committed all +sorts of atrocities until he was slain by Lieutenant Maynard in +1718. His nickname of "Blackbeard" was given him because of his +black beard. + + +The officer was a man of great weight among the peaceable members +of the club, by reason of his warlike character and gunpowder +tales. All his golden stories of Kidd, however, and of the booty +he had buried, were obstinately rivaled by the tales of Peechy +Prauw, who, rather than suffer his Dutch progenitors to be eclipsed +by a foreign freebooter, enriched every field and shore in the +neighborhood with the hidden wealth of Peter Stuyvesant and his +contemporaries. + +Not a word of this conversation was lost upon Wolfert Webber. He +returned pensively home, full of magnificent ideas. The soil of +his native island seemed to be turned into gold dust, and every +field to teem with treasure. His head almost reeled at the thought +how often he must have heedlessly rambled over places where +countless sums lay, scarcely covered by the turf beneath his feet. +His mind was in an uproar with this whirl of new ideas. As he came +in sight of the venerable mansion of his forefathers, and the +little realm where the Webbers had so long and so contentedly +flourished, his gorge rose at the narrowness of his destiny. + +"Unlucky Wolfert!" exclaimed he; "others can go to bed and dream +themselves into whole mines of wealth; they have but to seize a +spade in the morning, and turn up doubloons[1] like potatoes; but +thou must dream of hardships, and rise to poverty, must dig thy +field from year's end to year's end, and yet raise nothing but +cabbages!" + + +[1] Spanish gold coins, equivalent to $15.60. + + +Wolfert Webber went to bed with a heavy heart, and it was long +before the golden visions that disturbed his brain permitted him to +sink into repose. The same visions, however, extended into his +sleeping thoughts, and assumed a more definite form. He dreamed +that he had discovered an immense treasure in the center of his +garden. At every stroke of the spade he laid bare a golden ingot; +diamond crosses sparkled out of the dust; bags of money turned up +their bellies, corpulent with pieces-of-eight[1] or venerable +doubloons; and chests wedged close with moidores,[2] ducats,[3] and +pistareens,[4] yawned before his ravished eyes, and vomited forth +their glittering contents. + + +[1] Spanish coins, worth about $1 each. +[2] Portuguese gold coins, valued at $6.50. +[3] Coins of gold and silver, valued at $2 and $1 respectively. +[4] Spanish silver coins, worth about $.20. + + +Wolfert awoke a poorer man than ever. He had no heart to go about +his daily concerns, which appeared so paltry and profitless, but +sat all day long in the chimney corner, picturing to himself ingots +and heaps of gold in the fire. The next night his dream was +repeated. He was again in his garden digging, and laying open +stores of hidden wealth. There was something very singular in this +repetition. He passed another day of reverie, and though it was +cleaning day, and the house, as usual in Dutch households, +completely topsy-turvy, yet he sat unmoved amidst the general +uproar. + +The third night he went to bed with a palpitating heart. He put on +his red nightcap wrong side outward, for good luck. It was deep +midnight before his anxious mind could settle itself into sleep. +Again the golden dream was repeated, and again he saw his garden +teeming with ingots and money bags. + +Wolfert rose the next morning in complete bewilderment. A dream, +three times repeated, was never known to lie, and if so, his +fortune was made. + +In his agitation he put on his waistcoat with the hind part before, +and this was a corroboration of good luck.[1] He no longer doubted +that a huge store of money lay buried somewhere in his cabbage +field, coyly waiting to be sought for, and he repined at having so +long been scratching about the surface of the soil instead of +digging to the center. + + +[1] It is an old superstition that to put on one's clothes wrong +side out forebodes good luck. + + +He took his seat at the breakfast table, full of these +speculations, asked his daughter to put a lump of gold into his +tea, and on handing his wife a plate of slapjacks, begged her to +help herself to a doubloon. + +His grand care now was how to secure this immense treasure without +its being known. Instead of his working regularly in his grounds +in the daytime, he now stole from his bed at night, and with spade +and pickax went to work to rip up and dig about his paternal acres, +from one end to the other. In a little time the whole garden, +which had presented such a goodly and regular appearance, with its +phalanx of cabbages, like a vegetable army in battle array, was +reduced to a scene of devastation, while the relentless Wolfert, +with nightcap on head and lantern and spade in hand, stalked +through the slaughtered ranks, the destroying angel of his own +vegetable world. + +Every morning bore testimony to the ravages of the preceding night +in cabbages of all ages and conditions, from the tender sprout to +the full-grown head, piteously rooted from their quiet beds like +worthless weeds, and left to wither in the sunshine. In vain +Wolfert's wife remonstrated; in vain his darling daughter wept over +the destruction of some favorite marigold. "Thou shalt have gold +of another-guess[1] sort," he would cry, chucking her under the +chin; "thou shalt have a string of crooked ducats for thy wedding +necklace, my child." His family began really to fear that the poor +man's wits were diseased. He muttered in his sleep at night about +mines of wealth, about pearls and diamonds, and bars of gold. In +the daytime he was moody and abstracted, and walked about as if in +a trance. Dame Webber held frequent councils with all the old +women of the neighborhood; scarce an hour in the day but a knot of +them might be seen wagging their white caps together round her +door, while the poor woman made some piteous recital. The +daughter, too, was fain to seek for more frequent consolation from +the stolen interviews of her favored swain, Dirk Waldron. The +delectable little Dutch songs with which she used to dulcify the +house grew less and less frequent, and she would forget her sewing, +and look wistfully in her father's face as he sat pondering by the +fireside. Wolfert caught her eye one day fixed on him thus +anxiously, and for a moment was roused from his golden reveries. +"Cheer up, my girl," said he exultingly; "why dost thou droop? +Thou shalt hold up thy head one day with the Brinckerhoffs, and the +Schermerhorns, the Van Hornes, and the Van Dams.[2] By St. +Nicholas, but the patroon[3] himself shall be glad to get thee for +his son!" + + +[1] A corruption of the old expression "another-gates," or "of +another gate," meaning "of another way or manner"; hence, "of +another kind." + +[2] Names of rich and influential Dutch families in the old Dutch +colony of New Amsterdam. + +[3] The patroons were members of the Dutch West India Company, who +purchased land in New Netherlands of the Indians, and after +fulfilling certain conditions imposed with a view to colonizing +their territory, enjoyed feudal rights similar to those of the +barons of the Middle Ages. + + +Amy shook her head at his vainglorious boast, and was more than +ever in doubt of the soundness of the good man's intellect. + +In the meantime Wolfert went on digging and digging; but the field +was extensive, and as his dream had indicated no precise spot, he +had to dig at random. The winter set in before one tenth of the +scene of promise had been explored. + +The ground became frozen hard, and the nights too cold for the +labors of the spade. + +No sooner, however, did the returning warmth of spring loosen the +soil, and the small frogs begin to pipe in the meadows, but Wolfert +resumed his labors with renovated zeal. Still, however, the hours +of industry were reversed. + +Instead of working cheerily all day, planting and setting out his +vegetables, he remained thoughtfully idle, until the shades of +night summoned him to his secret labors. In this way he continued +to dig from night to night, and week to week, and month to month, +but not a stiver[1] did he find. On the contrary, the more he +digged the poorer he grew. The rich soil of his garden was digged +away, and the sand and gravel from beneath was thrown to the +surface, until the whole field presented an aspect of sandy +barrenness. + + +[1] A Dutch coin, worth about two cents; hence, anything of little +worth. + + +In the meantime, the seasons gradually rolled on. The little frogs +which had piped in the meadows in early spring croaked as bullfrogs +during the summer heats, and then sank into silence. The peach +tree budded, blossomed, and bore its fruit. The swallows and +martins came, twittered about the roof, built their nests, reared +their young, held their congress along the eaves, and then winged +their flight in search of another spring. The caterpillar spun its +winding sheet, dangled in it from the great buttonwood tree before +the house, turned into a moth, fluttered with the last sunshine of +summer, and disappeared; and finally the leaves of the buttonwood +tree turned yellow, then brown, then rustled one by one to the +ground, and whirling about in little eddies of wind and dust, +whispered that winter was at hand. + +Wolfert gradually woke from his dream of wealth as the year +declined. He had reared no crop for the supply of his household +during the sterility of winter. The season was long and severe, +and for the first time the family was really straitened in its +comforts. By degrees a revulsion of thought took place in +Wolfert's mind, common to those whose golden dreams have been +disturbed by pinching realities. The idea gradually stole upon him +that he should come to want. He already considered himself one of +the most unfortunate men in the province, having lost such an +incalculable amount of undiscovered treasure, and now, when +thousands of pounds had eluded his search, to be perplexed for +shillings and pence was cruel in the extreme. + +Haggard care gathered about his brow; he went about with a money- +seeking air, his eyes bent downward into the dust, and carrying his +hands in his pockets, as men are apt to do when they have nothing +else to put into them. He could not even pass the city almshouse +without giving it a rueful glance, as if destined to be his future +abode. + +The strangeness of his conduct and of his looks occasioned much +speculation and remark. For a long time he was suspected of being +crazy, and then everybody pitied him; and at length it began to be +suspected that he was poor, and then everybody avoided him. + +The rich old burghers of his acquaintance met him outside the door +when he called, entertained him hospitably on the threshold, +pressed him warmly by the hand at parting, shook their heads as he +walked away, with the kindhearted expression of "poor Wolfert," and +turned a corner nimbly if by chance they saw him approaching as +they walked the streets. Even the barber and the cobbler of the +neighborhood, and a tattered tailor in an alley hard by, three of +the poorest and merriest rogues in the world, eyed him with that +abundant sympathy which usually attends a lack of means, and there +is not a doubt but their pockets would have been at his command, +only that they happened to be empty. + +Thus everybody deserted the Webber mansion, as if poverty were +contagious, like the plague--everybody but honest Dirk Waldron, who +still kept up his stolen visits to the daughter, and indeed seemed +to wax more affectionate as the fortunes of his mistress were on +the wane. + +Many months had elapsed since Wolfert had frequented his old +resort, the rural inn. He was taking a long, lonely walk one +Saturday afternoon, musing over his wants and disappointments, when +his feet took instinctively their wonted direction, and on awaking +out of a reverie, he found himself before the door of the inn. For +some moments he hesitated whether to enter, but his heart yearned +for companionship, and where can a ruined man find better +companionship than at a tavern, where there is neither sober +example nor sober advice to put him out of countenance? + +Wolfert found several of the old frequenters of the inn at their +usual posts and seated in their usual places; but one was missing, +the great Ramm Rapelye, who for many years had filled the leather- +bottomed chair of state. His place was supplied by a stranger, who +seemed, however, completely at home in the chair and the tavern. +He was rather under size, but deep-chested, square, and muscular. +His broad shoulders, double joints, and bow knees gave tokens of +prodigious strength. His face was dark and weather-beaten; a deep +scar, as if from the slash of a cutlass, had almost divided his +nose, and made a gash in his upper lip, through which his teeth +shone like a bulldog's. A mop of iron-gray hair gave a grisly +finish to this hard-favored visage. His dress was of an amphibious +character. He wore an old hat edged with tarnished lace, and +cocked in martial style on one side of his head; a rusty[1] blue +military coat with brass buttons; and a wide pair of short +petticoat trousers,--or rather breeches, for they were gathered up +at the knees. He ordered everybody about him with an authoritative +air, talking in a brattling[2] voice that sounded like the +crackling of thorns under a pot, d--d the landlord and servants +with perfect impunity, and was waited upon with greater +obsequiousness than had ever been shown to the mighty Ramm himself. + + +[1] Shabby. + +[2] Noisy. + + +Wolfert's curiosity was awakened to know who and what was this +stranger who had thus usurped absolute sway in this ancient domain. +Peechy Prauw took him aside into a remote corner of the hall, and +there, in an under voice and with great caution, imparted to him +all that he knew on the subject. The inn had been aroused several +months before, on a dark, stormy night, by repeated long shouts +that seemed like the howlings of a wolf. They came from the water +side, and at length were distinguished to be hailing the house in +the seafaring manner, "House ahoy!" The landlord turned out with +his head waiter, tapster, hostler, and errand boy--that is to say, +with his old negro Cuff. On approaching the place whence the voice +proceeded, they found this amphibious-looking personage at the +water's edge, quite alone, and seated on a great oaken sea chest. +How he came there,--whether he had been set on shore from some +boat, or had floated to land on his chest,--nobody could tell, for +he did not seem disposed to answer questions, and there was +something in his looks and manners that put a stop to all +questioning. Suffice it to say, he took possession of a corner +room of the inn, to which his chest was removed with great +difficulty. Here he had remained ever since, keeping about the inn +and its vicinity. Sometimes, it is true, he disappeared for one, +two, or three days at a time, going and returning without giving +any notice or account of his movements. He always appeared to have +plenty of money, though often of very strange, outlandish coinage, +and he regularly paid his bill every evening before turning in. + +He had fitted up his room to his own fancy, having slung a hammock +from the ceiling instead of a bed, and decorated the walls with +rusty pistols and cutlasses of foreign workmanship. A greater part +of his time was passed in this room, seated by the window, which +commanded a wide view of the Sound, a short, old-fashioned pipe in +his mouth, a glass of rum toddy[1] at his elbow, and a pocket +telescope in his hand, with which he reconnoitered every boat that +moved upon the water. Large square-rigged vessels seemed to excite +but little attention; but the moment he descried anything with a +shoulder-of-mutton[2] sail, or that a barge or yawl or jolly-boat +hove in sight, up went the telescope, and he examined it with the +most scrupulous attention. + + +[1] A mixture of rum and hot water sweetened. + +[2] Triangular. + + +All this might have passed without much notice, for in those times +the province was so much the resort of adventurers of all +characters and climes that any oddity in dress or behavior +attracted but small attention. In a little while, however, this +strange sea monster, thus strangely cast upon dry land, began to +encroach upon the long established customs and customers of the +place, and to interfere in a dictatorial manner in the affairs of +the ninepin alley and the barroom, until in the end he usurped an +absolute command over the whole inn. It was all in vain to attempt +to withstand his authority. He was not exactly quarrelsome, but +boisterous and peremptory, like one accustomed to tyrannize on a +quarter-deck; and there was a dare-devil[1] air about everything he +said and did that inspired wariness in all bystanders. Even the +half-pay officer, so long the hero of the club, was soon silenced +by him, and the quiet burghers stared with wonder at seeing their +inflammable man of war so readily and quietly extinguished. + + +[1] Reckless. + + +And then the tales that he would tell were enough to make a +peaceable man's hair stand on end. There was not a sea fight, nor +marauding nor freebooting adventure that had happened within the +last twenty years, but he seemed perfectly versed in it. He +delighted to talk of the exploits of the buccaneers in the West +Indies and on the Spanish Main.[1] How his eyes would glisten as +he described the waylaying of treasure ships; the desperate fights, +yardarm and yardarm,[2] broadside and broadside;[3] the boarding +and capturing huge Spanish galleons! With what chuckling relish +would he describe the descent upon some rich Spanish colony, the +rifling of a church, the sacking of a convent! You would have +thought you heard some gormandizer dilating upon the roasting of a +savory goose at Michaelmas,[4] as he described the roasting of some +Spanish don to make him discover his treasure,--a detail given with +a minuteness that made every rich old burgher present turn +uncomfortably in his chair. All this would be told with infinite +glee, as if he considered it an excellent joke, and then he would +give such a tyrannical leer in the face of his next neighbor that +the poor man would be fain to laugh out of sheer faint-heartedness. +If anyone, however, pretended to contradict him in any of his +stories, he was on fire in an instant. His very cocked hat assumed +a momentary fierceness, and seemed to resent the contradiction. +"How the devil should you know as well as I? I tell you it was as +I say;" and he would at the same time let slip a broadside of +thundering oaths[5] and tremendous sea phrases, such as had never +been heard before within these peaceful walls. + + +[1] The coast of the northern part of South America along the +Caribbean Sea, the route formerly traversed by the Spanish treasure +ships between the Old and New Worlds. + +[2] Ships are said to be yardarm and yardarm when so near as to +touch or interlock their yards, which are the long pieces of timber +designed to support and extend the square sails. + +[3] "Broadside and broadside," i.e., with the side of one ship +touching that of another. + +[4] The Feast of the Archangel Michael, a church festival +celebrated on September 29th. + +[5] "Broadside of thundering oaths," i.e., a volley of abuse. + + +Indeed, the worthy burghers began to surmise that he knew more of +those stories than mere hearsay. Day after day their conjectures +concerning him grew more and more wild and fearful. The +strangeness of his arrival, the strangeness of his manners, the +mystery that surrounded him,--all made him something +incomprehensible in their eyes. He was a kind of monster of the +deep to them; he was a merman, he was a behemoth, he was a +leviathan,--in short, they knew not what he was. + +The domineering spirit of this boisterous sea urchin at length grew +quite intolerable. He was no respecter of persons; he contradicted +the richest burghers without hesitation; he took possession of the +sacred elbow chair, which time out of mind had been the seat of +sovereignty of the illustrious Ramm Rapelye. Nay, he even went so +far, in one of his rough, jocular moods, as to slap that mighty +burgher on the back, drink his toddy, and wink in his face,--a +thing scarcely to be believed. From this time Ramm Rapelye +appeared no more at the inn. His example was followed by several +of the most eminent customers, who were too rich to tolerate being +bullied out of their opinions or being obliged to laugh at another +man's jokes. The landlord was almost in despair; but he knew not +how to get rid of this sea monster and his sea chest, who seemed +both to have grown like fixtures, or excrescences on his +establishment. + +Such was the account whispered cautiously in Wolfert's ear by the +narrator, Peechy Prauw, as he held him by the button in a corner of +the hall, casting a wary glance now and then toward the door of the +barroom, lest he should be overheard by the terrible hero of his +tale. + +Wolfert took his seat in a remote part of the room in silence, +impressed with profound awe of this unknown, so versed in +freebooting history. It was to him a wonderful instance of the +revolutions of mighty empires, to find the venerable Ramm Rapelye +thus ousted from the throne, and a rugged tarpaulin[1] dictating +from his elbow chair, hectoring the patriarchs, and filling this +tranquil little realm with brawl and bravado. + + +[1] A kind of canvas used about a ship; hence, a sailor. + + +The stranger was, on this evening, in a more than usually +communicative mood, and was narrating a number of astounding +stories of plunderings and burnings on the high seas. He dwelt +upon them with peculiar relish, heightening the frightful +particulars in proportion to their effect on his peaceful auditors. +He gave a swaggering detail of the capture of a Spanish +merchantman. She was lying becalmed during a long summer's day, +just off from the island which was one of the lurking places of the +pirates. They had reconnoitered her with their spyglasses from the +shore, and ascertained her character and force. At night a picked +crew of daring fellows set off for her in a whaleboat. They +approached with muffled oars, as she lay rocking idly with the +undulations of the sea, and her sails flapping against the masts. +They were close under the stern before the guard on deck was aware +of their approach. The alarm was given; the pirates threw hand +grenades[1] on deck, and sprang up the main chains,[2] sword in +hand. + + +[1] "Hand grenades," i.e., small shells of iron or glass filled +with gunpowder and thrown by hand. + +[2] "Main chains," i.e., strong bars of iron bolted at the lower +end to the side of a vessel, and secured at the upper end to the +iron straps of the blocks by which the shrouds supporting the masts +are extended. + + +The crew flew to arms, but in great confusion; some were shot down, +others took refuge in the tops, others were driven overboard and +drowned, while others fought hand to hand from the main deck to the +quarter-deck, disputing gallantly every inch of ground. There were +three Spanish gentlemen on board, with their ladies, who made the +most desperate resistance. They defended the companion way,[1] cut +down several of their assailants, and fought like very devils, for +they were maddened by the shrieks of the ladies from the cabin. +One of the dons was old, and soon dispatched. The other two kept +their ground vigorously, even though the captain of the pirates was +among their assailants. Just then there was a shout of victory +from the main deck. "The ship is ours!" cried the pirates. + + +[1] The companion way is a staircase leading to the cabin of a +ship. + + +One of the dons immediately dropped his sword and surrendered; the +other, who was a hot-headed youngster, and just married, gave the +captain a slash in the face that laid all open. The captain just +made out to articulate the words, "No quarter." + +"And what did they do with their prisoners?" said Peechy Prauw +eagerly. + +"Threw them all overboard," was the answer. A dead pause followed +the reply. Peechy Prauw sank quietly back, like a man who had +unwarily stolen upon the lair of a sleeping lion. The honest +burghers cast fearful glances at the deep scar slashed across the +visage of the stranger, and moved their chairs a little farther +off. The seaman, however, smoked on without moving a muscle, as +though he either did not perceive, or did not regard, the +unfavorable effect he had produced upon his hearers. + +The half-pay officer was the first to break the silence, for he was +continually tempted to make ineffectual head against this tyrant of +the seas, and to regain his lost consequence in the eyes of his +ancient companions. He now tried to match the gunpowder tales of +the stranger by others equally tremendous. Kidd, as usual, was his +hero, concerning whom he seemed to have picked up many of the +floating traditions of the province. The seaman had always evinced +a settled pique against the one-eyed warrior. On this occasion he +listened with peculiar impatience. He sat with one arm akimbo, the +other elbow on the table, the hand holding on to the small pipe he +was pettishly puffing, his legs crossed, drumming with one foot on +the ground, and casting every now and then the side glance of a +basilisk at the prosing captain. At length the latter spoke of +Kidd's having ascended the Hudson with some of his crew, to land +his plunder in secrecy. + +Kidd up the Hudson!" burst forth the seaman, with a tremendous +oath; "Kidd never was up the Hudson!" + +"I tell you he was," said the other. "Aye, and they say he buried +a quantity of treasure on the little flat that runs out into the +river, called the Devil's Dans Kammer."[1] + + +[1] A huge, flat rock, projecting into the Hudson River above the +Highlands. + + +"The Devil's Dans Kammer in your teeth!"[1] cried the seaman. "I +tell you Kidd never was up the Hudson. What a plague do you know +of Kidd and his haunts?" + + +[1] "In your teeth," a phrase to denote direct opposition or +defiance. + + +"What do I know?" echoed the half-pay officer. "Why, I was in +London at the time of his trial; aye, and I had the pleasure of +seeing him hanged at Execution Dock." + +"Then, sir, let me tell you that you saw as pretty a fellow hanged +as ever trod shoe leather. Aye!" putting his face nearer to that +of the officer, "and there was many a landlubber[1] looked on that +might much better have swung in his stead." + + +[1] A term of contempt used by seamen for those who pass their +lives on land. + + +The half-pay officer was silenced; but the indignation thus pent up +in his bosom glowed with intense vehemence in his single eye, which +kindled like a coal. + +Peechy Prauw, who never could remain silent, observed that the +gentleman certainly was in the right. Kidd never did bury money up +the Hudson, nor indeed in any of those parts, though many affirmed +such to be the fact. It was Bradish[1] and others of the +buccaneers who had buried money, some said in Turtle Bay,[2] others +on Long Island, others in the neighborhood of Hell Gate. "Indeed," +added he, "I recollect an adventure of Sam, the negro fisherman, +many years ago, which some think had something to do with the +buccaneers. As we are all friends here, and as it will go no +further, I'll tell it to you. + + +[1] Bradish was a pirate whose actions were blended in the popular +mind with those of Kidd. He was boatswain of a ship which sailed +from England in 1697, and which, like Kidd's, bore the name of the +Adventure. In the absence of the captain on shore, he seized the +ship and set out on a piratical cruise. After amassing a fortune, +he sailed for America and deposited a large amount of his wealth +with a confederate on Long Island. He was apprehended in Rhode +Island, sent to England, and executed. + +[2] A small cove in the East River two miles north of Corlear's +Hook. + + +"Upon a dark night many years ago, as Black Sam was returning from +fishing in Hell Gate--" + +Here the story was nipped in the bud by a sudden movement from the +unknown, who, laying his iron fist on the table, knuckles downward, +with a quiet force that indented the very boards, and looking +grimly over his shoulder, with the grin of an angry bear,-- +"Hearkee, neighbor," said he, with significant nodding of the head, +"you'd better let the buccaneers and their money alone; they're not +for old men and old women to meddle with. They fought hard for +their money--they gave body and soul for it; and wherever it lies +buried, depend upon it he must have a tug with the devil who gets +it! + +This sudden explosion was succeeded by a blank silence throughout +the room. Peechy Prauw shrunk within himself, and even the one- +eyed officer turned pale. Wolfert, who from a dark corner of the +room had listened with intense eagerness to all this talk about +buried treasure, looked with mingled awe and reverence at this bold +buccaneer, for such he really suspected him to be. There was a +chinking of gold and a sparkling of jewels in all his stories about +the Spanish Main that gave a value to every period, and Wolfert +would have given anything for the rummaging of the ponderous sea +chest, which his imagination crammed full of golden chalices, +crucifixes, and jolly round bags of doubloons. + +The dead stillness that had fallen upon the company was at length +interrupted by the stranger, who pulled out a prodigious watch of +curious and ancient workmanship, and which in Wolfert's eyes had a +decidedly Spanish look. On touching a spring, it struck ten +o'clock, upon which the sailor called for his reckoning, and having +paid it out of a handful of outlandish coin, he drank off the +remainder of his beverage, and without taking leave of anyone, +rolled out of the room, muttering to himself as he stamped upstairs +to his chamber. + +It was some time before the company could recover from the silence +into which they had been thrown. The very footsteps of the +stranger, which were heard now and then as he traversed his +chamber, inspired awe. + +Still the conversation in which they had been engaged was too +interesting not to be resumed. A heavy thunder gust had gathered +up unnoticed while they were lost in talk, and the torrents of rain +that fell forbade all thoughts of setting off for home until the +storm should subside. They drew nearer together, therefore, and +entreated the worthy Peechy Prauw to continue the tale which had +been so discourteously interrupted. He readily complied, +whispering, however, in a tone scarcely above his breath, and +drowned occasionally by the rolling of the thunder; and he would +pause every now and then and listen, with evident awe, as he heard +the heavy footsteps of the stranger pacing overhead. The following +is the purport of his story: + + +Adventure of the Black Fisherman + + +Everybody knows Black Sam, the old negro fisherman, or, as he is +commonly called, "Mud Sam," who has fished about the Sound for the +last half century. It is now many years since Sam, who was then as +active a young negro as any in the province, and worked on the farm +of Killian Suydam on Long Island, having finished his day's work at +an early hour, was fishing, one still summer evening, just about +the neighborhood of Hell Gate. + +He was in a light skiff, and being well acquainted with the +currents and eddies, had shifted his station, according to the +shifting of the tide, from the Hen and Chickens to the Hog's Back, +from the Hog's Back to the Pot, and from the Pot to the Frying Pan; +but in the eagerness of his sport he did not see that the tide was +rapidly ebbing, until the roaring of the whirlpools and eddies +warned him of his danger, and he had some difficulty in shooting +his skiff from among the rocks and breakers, and getting to the +point of Blackwell's Island.[1] Here he cast anchor for some time, +waiting the turn of the tide to enable him to return homeward. As +the night set in, it grew blustering and gusty. Dark clouds came +bundling up in the west, and now and then a growl of thunder or a +flash of lightning told that a summer storm was at hand. Sam +pulled over, therefore, under the lee of Manhattan Island, and, +coasting along, came to a snug nook, just under a steep, beetling +rock, where he fastened his skiff to the root of a tree that shot +out from a cleft, and spread its broad branches like a canopy over +the water. The gust came scouring along, the wind threw up the +river in white surges, the rain rattled among the leaves, the +thunder bellowed worse than that which is now bellowing, the +lightning seemed to lick up the surges of the stream; but Sam, +snugly sheltered under rock and tree, lay crouching in his skiff, +rocking upon the billows until he fell asleep. + + +[1] A long, narrow island in the East River, between New York and +Long Island City. + + +When he woke all was quiet. The gust had passed away, and only now +and then a faint gleam of lightning in the east showed which way it +had gone. The night was dark and moonless, and from the state of +the tide Sam concluded it was near midnight. He was on the point +of making loose his skiff to return homeward when he saw a light +gleaming along the water from a distance, which seemed rapidly +approaching. As it drew near he perceived it came from a lantern +in the bow of a boat gliding along under shadow of the land. It +pulled up in a small cove close to where he was. A man jumped on +shore, and searching about with the lantern, exclaimed, "This is +the place--here's the iron ring." The boat was then made fast, and +the man, returning on board, assisted his comrades in conveying +something heavy on shore. As the light gleamed among them, Sam saw +that they were five stout, desperate-looking fellows, in red woolen +caps, with a leader in a three-cornered hat, and that some of them +were armed with dirks, or long knives, and pistols. They talked +low to one another, and occasionally in some outlandish tongue +which he could not understand. + +On landing they made their way among the bushes, taking turns to +relieve each other in lugging their burden up the rocky bank. +Sam's curiosity was now fully aroused, so leaving his skiff he +clambered silently up a ridge that overlooked their path. They had +stopped to rest for a moment, and the leader was looking about +among the bushes with his lantern. "Have you brought the spades?" +said one. "They are here," replied another, who had them on his +shoulder. "We must dig deep, where there will be no risk of +discovery," said a third. + +A cold chill ran through Sam's veins. He fancied he saw before him +a gang of murderers, about to bury their victim. His knees smote +together. In his agitation he shook the branch of a tree with +which he was supporting himself as he looked over the edge of the +cliff. + +"What's that?" cried one of the gang. "Some one stirs among the +bushes!" + +The lantern was held up in the direction of the noise. One of the +red-caps cocked a pistol, and pointed it toward the very place +where Sam was standing. He stood motionless, breathless, expecting +the next moment to be his last. Fortunately his dingy complexion +was in his favor, and made no glare among the leaves. + +"'Tis no one," said the man with the lantern. "What a plague! you +would not fire off your pistol and alarm the country!" + +The pistol was uncocked, the burden was resumed, and the party +slowly toiled along the bank. Sam watched them as they went, the +light sending back fitful gleams through the dripping bushes, and +it was not till they were fairly out of sight that he ventured to +draw breath freely. He now thought of getting back to his boat, +and making his escape out of the reach of such dangerous neighbors; +but curiosity was all-powerful. He hesitated, and lingered, and +listened. By and by he heard the strokes of spades. "They are +digging the grave!" said he to himself, and the cold sweat started +upon his forehead. Every stroke of a spade, as it sounded through +the silent groves, went to his heart. It was evident there was as +little noise made as possible; everything had an air of terrible +mystery and secrecy. Sam had a great relish for the horrible; a +tale of murder was a treat for him, and he was a constant attendant +at executions. He could not resist an impulse, in spite of every +danger, to steal nearer to the scene of mystery, and overlook the +midnight fellows at their work. He crawled along cautiously, +therefore, inch by inch, stepping with the utmost care among the +dry leaves, lest their rustling should betray him. He came at +length to where a steep rock intervened between him and the gang, +for he saw the light of their lantern shining up against the +branches of the trees on the other side. Sam slowly and silently +clambered up the surface of the rock, and raising his head above +its naked edge, beheld the villains immediately below him, and so +near that though he dreaded discovery he dared not withdraw lest +the least movement should be heard. In this way he remained, with +his round black face peering above the edge of the rock, like the +sun just emerging above the edge of the horizon, or the round- +cheeked moon on the dial of a clock. + +The red-caps had nearly finished their work, the grave was filled +up, and they were carefully replacing the turf. This done they +scattered dry leaves over the place. "And now," said the leader, +"I defy the devil himself to find it out." + +"The murderers!" exclaimed Sam involuntarily. + +The whole gang started, and looking up beheld the round black head +of Sam just above them, his white eyes strained half out of their +orbits, his white teeth chattering, and his whole visage shining +with cold perspiration. + +"We're discovered!" cried one. + +"Down with him!" cried another. + +Sam heard the cocking of a pistol, but did not pause for the +report. He scrambled over rock and stone, through brush and brier, +rolled down banks like a hedgehog, scrambled up others like a +catamount. In every direction he heard some one or other of the +gang hemming him in. At length he reached the rocky ridge along +the river; one of the red-caps was hard behind him. A steep rock +like a wall rose directly in his way; it seemed to cut off all +retreat, when fortunately he espied the strong, cord-like branch of +a grapevine reaching half way down it. He sprang at it with the +force of a desperate man, seized it with both hands, and, being +young and agile, succeeded in swinging himself to the summit of the +cliff. Here he stood in full relief against the sky, when the red- +cap cocked his pistol and fired. The ball whistled by Sam's head. +With the lucky thought of a man in an emergency, he uttered a yell, +fell to the ground, and detached at the same time a fragment of the +rock, which tumbled with a loud splash into the river. + +"I've done his business," said the red-cap to one or two of his +comrades as they arrived panting. "He'll tell no tales, except to +the fishes in the river." + +His pursuers now turned to meet their companions. Sam, sliding +silently down the surface of the rock, let himself quietly into his +skiff, cast loose the fastening, and abandoned himself to the rapid +current, which in that place runs like a mill stream, and soon +swept him off from the neighborhood. It was not, however, until he +had drifted a great distance that he ventured to ply his oars, when +he made his skiff dart like an arrow through the strait of Hell +Gate, never heeding the danger of Pot, Frying Pan, nor Hog's Back +itself, nor did he feel himself thoroughly secure until safely +nestled in bed in the cockloft of the ancient farmhouse of the +Suydams. + + +Here the worthy Peechy Prauw paused to take breath, and to take a +sip of the gossip tankard that stood at his elbow. His auditors +remained with open mouths and outstretched necks, gaping like a +nest of swallows for an additional mouthful. + +"And is that all?" exclaimed the half-pay officer. + +"That's all that belongs to the story," said Peechy Prauw. + +"And did Sam never find out what was buried by the red-caps?" said +Wolfert eagerly, whose mind was haunted by nothing but ingots and +doubloons. + +"Not that I know of," said Peechy; "he had no time to spare from +his work, and, to tell the truth, he did not like to run the risk +of another race among the rocks. Besides, how should he recollect +the spot where the grave had been digged? everything would look so +different by daylight. And then, where was the use of looking for +a dead body when there was no chance of hanging the murderers?" + +"Aye, but are you sure it was a dead body they buried?" said +Wolfert. + +"To be sure," cried Peechy Prauw exultingly. "Does it not haunt in +the neighborhood to this very day?" + +"Haunts!" exclaimed several of the party, opening their eyes still +wider, and edging their chairs still closer. + +"Aye, haunts," repeated Peechy; "have none of you heard of Father +Red-cap, who haunts the old burned farmhouse in the woods, on the +border of the Sound, near Hell Gate?" + +"Oh, to be sure, I've heard tell of something of the kind, but then +I took it for some old wives' fable." + +"Old wives' fable or not," said Peechy Prauw, "that farmhouse +stands hard by the very spot. It's been unoccupied time out of +mind, and stands in a lonely part of the coast, but those who fish +in the neighborhood have often heard strange noises there, and +lights have been seen about the wood at night, and an old fellow in +a red cap has been seen at the windows more than once, which people +take to be the ghost of the body buried there. Once upon a time +three soldiers took shelter in the building for the night, and +rummaged it from top to bottom, when they found old Father Red-cap +astride of a cider barrel in the cellar, with a jug in one hand and +a goblet in the other. He offered them a drink out of his goblet, +but just as one of the soldiers was putting it to his mouth--whew!- +-a flash of fire blazed through the cellar, blinded every mother's +son of them for several minutes, and when they recovered their +eyesight, jug, goblet, and Red-cap had vanished, and nothing but +the empty cider barrel remained." + +Here the half-pay officer, who was growing very muzzy and sleepy, +and nodding over his liquor, with half-extinguished eye, suddenly +gleamed up like an expiring rush-light. + +"That's all fudge!" said he, as Peechy finished his last story. + +"Well, I don't vouch for the truth of it myself," said Peechy +Prauw, "though all the world knows that there's something strange +about that house and grounds; but as to the story of Mud Sam, I +believe it just as well as if it had happened to myself." + + +The deep interest taken in this conversation by the company had +made them unconscious of the uproar abroad among the elements, when +suddenly they were electrified by a tremendous clap of thunder. A +lumbering crash followed instantaneously, shaking the building to +its very foundation. All started from their seats, imagining it +the shock of an earthquake, or that old Father Red-cap was coming +among them in all his terrors. They listened for a moment, but +only heard the rain pelting against the windows and the wind +howling among the trees. The explosion was soon explained by the +apparition of an old negro's bald head thrust in at the door, his +white goggle eyes contrasting with his jetty poll, which was wet +with rain, and shone like a bottle. In a jargon but half +intelligible he announced that the kitchen chimney had been struck +with lightning. + +A sullen pause of the storm, which now rose and sank in gusts, +produced a momentary stillness. In this interval the report of a +musket was heard, and a long shout, almost like a yell, resounded +from the shores. Everyone crowded to the window; another musket +shot was heard, and another long shout, mingled wildly with a +rising blast of wind. It seemed as if the cry came up from the +bosom of the waters, for though incessant flashes of lightning +spread a light about the shore, no one was to be seen. + +Suddenly the window of the room overhead was opened, and a loud +halloo uttered by the mysterious stranger. Several hailings passed +from one party to the other, but in a language which none of the +company in the barroom could understand, and presently they heard +the window closed, and a great noise overhead, as if all the +furniture were pulled and hauled about the room. The negro servant +was summoned, and shortly afterwards was seen assisting the veteran +to lug the ponderous sea chest downstairs. + +The landlord was in amazement. "What, you are not going on the +water in such a storm?" + +"Storm!" said the other scornfully, "do you call such a sputter of +weather a storm?" + +"You'll get drenched to the skin; you'll catch your death!" said +Peechy Prauw affectionately. + +"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed the veteran; "don't preach about +weather to a man that has cruised in whirlwinds and tornadoes." + +The obsequious Peechy was again struck dumb. The voice from the +water was heard once more in a tone of impatience; the bystanders +stared with redoubled awe at this man of storms, who seemed to have +come up out of the deep, and to be summoned back to it again. As, +with the assistance of the negro, he slowly bore his ponderous sea +chest toward the shore, they eyed it with a superstitious feeling, +half doubting whether he were not really about to embark upon it +and launch forth upon the wild waves. They followed him at a +distance with a lantern. + +"Dowse[1] the light!" roared the hoarse voice from the water. "No +one wants light here!" + + +[1] Extinguish. + + +"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed the veteran, turning short upon +them; "back to the house with you!" + +Wolfert and his companions shrank back in dismay. Still their +curiosity would not allow them entirely to withdraw. A long sheet +of lightning now flickered across the waves, and discovered a boat, +filled with men, just under a rocky point, rising and sinking with +the heaving surges, and swashing the waters at every heave. It was +with difficulty held to the rocks by a boat hook, for the current +rushed furiously round the point. The veteran hoisted one end of +the lumbering sea chest on the gunwale of the boat, and seized the +handle at the other end to lift it in, when the motion propelled +the boat from the shore, the chest slipped off from the gunwale, +and, sinking into the waves, pulled the veteran headlong after it. +A loud shriek was uttered by all on shore, and a volley of +execrations by those on board, but boat and man were hurried away +by the rushing swiftness of the tide. A pitchy darkness succeeded. +Wolfert Webber, indeed, fancied that he distinguished a cry for +help, and that he beheld the drowning man beckoning for assistance; +but when the lightning again gleamed along the water all was void; +neither man nor boat was to be seen,--nothing but the dashing and +weltering of the waves as they hurried past. + +The company returned to the tavern to await the subsiding of the +storm. They resumed their seats and gazed on each other with +dismay. The whole transaction had not occupied five minutes, and +not a dozen words had been spoken. When they looked at the oaken +chair they could scarcely realize the fact that the strange being +who had so lately tenanted it, full of life and Herculean vigor, +should already be a corpse. There was the very glass he had just +drunk from; there lay the ashes from the pipe which he had smoked, +as it were, with his last breath. As the worthy burghers pondered +on these things, they felt a terrible conviction of the uncertainty +of existence, and each felt as if the ground on which he stood was +rendered less stable by his awful example. + +As, however, the most of the company were possessed of that +valuable philosophy which enables a man to bear up with fortitude +against the misfortunes of his neighbors, they soon managed to +console themselves for the tragic end of the veteran. The landlord +was particularly happy that the poor dear man had paid his +reckoning before he went, and made a kind of farewell speech on the +occasion. + +"He came," said he, "in a storm, and he went in a storm; he came in +the night, and he went in the night; he came nobody knows whence, +and he has gone nobody knows where. For aught I know he has gone +to sea once more on his chest, and may land to bother some people +on the other side of the world; though it's a thousand pities," +added he, "if he has gone to Davy Jones's[1] locker, that he had +not left his own locker[2] behind him." + + +[1] Davy Jones is the spirit of the sea, or the sea devil, and Davy +Jones's locker is the bottom of the ocean; hence, "gone to Davy +Jones's locker" signifies "dead and buried in the sea." + +[2] Chest. + + +"His locker! St. Nicholas preserve us!" cried Peechy Prauw. "I'd +not have had that sea chest in the house for any money; I'll +warrant he'd come racketing after it at nights, and making a +haunted house of the inn. And as to his going to sea in his chest, +I recollect what happened to Skipper Onderdonk's ship on his voyage +from Amsterdam. + +"The boatswain died during a storm, so they wrapped him up in a +sheet, and put him in his own sea chest, and threw him overboard; +but they neglected, in their hurry-skurry, to say prayers over him, +and the storm raged and roared louder than ever, and they saw the +dead man seated in his chest, with his shroud for a sail, coming +hard after the ship, and the sea breaking before him in great +sprays like fire; and there they kept scudding day after day and +night after night, expecting every moment to go to wreck; and every +night they saw the dead boatswain in his sea chest trying to get up +with them, and they heard his whistle above the blasts of wind, and +he seemed to send great seas, mountain high, after them that would +have swamped the ship if they had not put up the deadlights. And +so it went on till they lost sight of him in the fogs off +Newfoundland, and supposed he had veered ship and stood for Dead +Man's Isle.[1] So much for burying a man at sea without saying +prayers over him." + + +[1] Probably Deadman's Point, a small island near Deadman's Bay, +off the eastern coast of Newfoundland. + + +The thunder gust which had hitherto detained the company was now at +an end. The cuckoo clock in the hall told midnight; everyone +pressed to depart, for seldom was such a late hour of the night +trespassed on by these quiet burghers. As they sallied forth they +found the heavens once more serene. The storm which had lately +obscured them had rolled away, and lay piled up in fleecy masses on +the horizon, lighted up by the bright crescent of the moon, which +looked like a little silver lamp hung up in a palace of clouds. + +The dismal occurrence of the night, and the dismal narrations they +had made, had left a superstitious feeling in every mind. They +cast a fearful glance at the spot where the buccaneer had +disappeared, almost expecting to see him sailing on his chest in +the cool moonshine. The trembling rays glittered along the waters, +but all was placid, and the current dimpled over the spot where he +had gone down. The party huddled together in a little crowd as +they repaired homeward, particularly when they passed a lonely +field where a man had been murdered, and even the sexton, who had +to complete his journey alone, though accustomed, one would think, +to ghosts and goblins, went a long way round rather than pass by +his own churchyard. + +Wolfert Webber had now carried home a fresh stock of stories and +notions to ruminate upon. These accounts of pots of money and +Spanish treasures, buried here and there and everywhere about the +rocks and bays of these wild shores, made him almost dizzy. +"Blessed St. Nicholas!" ejaculated he, half aloud, "is it not +possible to come upon one of these golden hoards, and to make +oneself rich in a twinkling? How hard that I must go on, delving +and delving, day in and day out, merely to make a morsel of bread, +when one lucky stroke of a spade might enable me to ride in my +carriage for the rest of my life!" + +As he turned over in his thoughts all that had been told of the +singular adventure of the negro fisherman, his imagination gave a +totally different complexion[1] to the tale. He saw in the gang of +red-caps nothing but a crew of pirates burying their spoils, and +his cupidity was once more awakened by the possibility of at length +getting on the traces of some of this lurking wealth. Indeed, his +infected fancy tinged everything with gold. He felt like the +greedy inhabitant of Bagdad when his eyes had been greased with the +magic ointment of the dervish, that gave him to see all the +treasures of the earth.[2] Caskets of buried jewels, chests of +ingots, and barrels of outlandish coins seemed to court him from +their concealments, and supplicate him to relieve them from their +untimely graves. + + +[1] Aspect. + +[2] See Story of the Blind Man, Baba Abdalla, in Arabian Nights' +Entertainment. An inhabitant of Bagdad, Asiatic Turkey, meets with +a dervish, or Turkish monk, who presents him with a vast treasure +and with a box of magic ointment, which, applied to the left eye, +enables one to see the treasures in the bosom of the earth, but on +touching the right eye, causes blindness. Having applied it to the +left eye with the result predicted, he uses it on his right eye, in +the hope that still greater treasures may be revealed, and +immediately becomes blind. + + +On making private inquiries about the grounds said to be haunted by +Feather Red-cap, he was more and more confirmed in his surmise. He +learned that the place had several times been visited by +experienced money diggers who had heard Black Sam's story, though +none of them had met with success. On the contrary, they had +always been dogged with ill luck of some kind or other, in +consequence, as Wolfert concluded, of not going to work at the +proper time and with the proper ceremonials. The last attempt had +been made by Cobus Quackenbos, who dug for a whole night, and met +with incredible difficulty, for as fast as he threw one shovelful +of earth out of the hole, two were thrown in by invisible hands. +He succeeded so far, however, as to uncover an iron chest, when +there was a terrible roaring, ramping, and raging of uncouth +figures about the hole, and at length a shower of blows, dealt by +invisible cudgels, fairly belabored him off of the forbidden +ground. This Cobus Quackenbos had declared on his deathbed, so +that there could not be any doubt of it. He was a man that had +devoted many years of his life to money digging, and it was thought +would have ultimately succeeded had he not died recently of a brain +fever in the almshouse. + +Wolfert Webber was now in a worry of trepidation and impatience, +fearful lest some rival adventurer should get a scent of the buried +gold. He determined privately to seek out the black fisherman, and +get him to serve as guide to the place where he had witnessed the +mysterious scene of interment. Sam was easily found, for he was +one of those old habitual beings that live about a neighborhood +until they wear themselves a place in the public mind, and become, +in a manner, public characters. There was not an unlucky urchin +about town that did not know Sam the fisherman, and think that he +had a right to play his tricks upon the old negro. Sam had led an +amphibious life for more than half a century, about the shores of +the bay and the fishing grounds of the Sound. He passed the +greater part of his time on and in the water, particularly about +Hell Gate, and might have been taken, in bad weather, for one of +the hobgoblins that used to haunt that strait. There would he be +seen, at all times and in all weathers, sometimes in his skiff, +anchored among the eddies, or prowling like a shark about some +wreck, where the fish are supposed to be most abundant; sometimes +seated on a rock from hour to hour, looking, in the mist and +drizzle, like a solitary heron watching for its prey. He was well +acquainted with every hole and corner of the Sound, from the +Wallabout[1] to Hell Gate, and from Hell Gate unto the Devil's +Stepping-Stones; and it was even affirmed that he knew all the fish +in the river by their Christian names. + + +[1] A bay of the East River, on which the Brooklyn Navy Yard is +situated. + + +Wolfert found him at his cabin, which was not much larger than a +tolerable dog house. It was rudely constructed of fragments of +wrecks and driftwood, and built on the rocky shore at the foot of +the old fort, just about what at present forms the point of the +Battery.[1] A "very ancient and fishlike smell"[2] pervaded the +place. Oars, paddles, and fishing rods were leaning against the +wall of the fort, a net was spread on the sand to dry, a skiff was +drawn up on the beach, and at the door of his cabin was Mud Sam +himself, indulging in the true negro luxury of sleeping in the +sunshine. + + +[1] The southern extremity of New York City. + +[2] See Shakespeare's The Tempest, act ii., sc. 2. + + +Many years had passed away since the time of Sam's youthful +adventure, and the snows of many a winter had grizzled the knotty +wool upon his head. He perfectly recollected the circumstances, +however, for he had often been called upon to relate them, though +in his version of the story he differed in many points from Peechy +Prauw, as is not infrequently the case with authentic historians. +As to the subsequent researches of money diggers, Sam knew nothing +about them; they were matters quite out of his line; neither did +the cautious Wolfert care to disturb his thoughts on that point. +His only wish was to secure the old fisherman as a pilot to the +spot, and this was readily effected. The long time that had +intervened since his nocturnal adventure had effaced all Sam's awe +of the place, and the promise of a trifling reward roused him at +once from his sleep and his sunshine. + +The tide was adverse to making the expedition by water, and Wolfert +was too impatient to get to the land of promise to wait for its +turning; they set off, therefore, by land. A walk of four or five +miles brought them to the edge of a wood, which at that time +covered the greater part of the eastern side of the island. It was +just beyond the pleasant region of Bloomen-dael.[1] Here they +struck into a long lane, straggling among trees and bushes very +much overgrown with weeds and mullein stalks, as if but seldom +used, and so completely overshadowed as to enjoy but a kind of +twilight. Wild vines entangled the trees and flaunted in their +faces; brambles and briers caught their clothes as they passed; the +garter snake glided across their path; the spotted toad hopped and +waddled before them; and the restless catbird mewed at them from +every thicket. Had Wolfert Webber been deeply read in romantic +legend he might have fancied himself entering upon forbidden, +enchanted ground, or that these were some of the guardians set to +keep watch upon buried treasure. As it was, the loneliness of the +place, and the wild stories connected with it, had their effect +upon his mind. + + +[1] At the time this story was written Bloomen-dael (Flowery +Valley) was a village four miles from New York. It is now that +part of New York known as Bloomingdale, on the west side, between +about Seventieth and One Hundredth Streets. + + +On reaching the lower end of the lane they found themselves near +the shore of the Sound, in a kind of amphitheater surrounded by +forest trees. The area had once been a grass plot, but was now +shagged with briers and rank weeds. At one end, and just on the +river bank, was a ruined building, little better than a heap of +rubbish, with a stack of chimneys rising like a solitary tower out +of the center. The current of the Sound rushed along just below +it, with wildly grown trees drooping their branches into its waves. + +Wolfert had not a doubt that this was the haunted house of Father +Red-cap, and called to mind the story of Peechy Prauw. The evening +was approaching, and the light, falling dubiously among the woody +places, gave a melancholy tone to the scene well calculated to +foster any lurking feeling of awe or superstition. The night hawk, +wheeling about in the highest regions of the air, emitted his +peevish, boding cry. The woodpecker gave a lonely tap now and then +on some hollow tree, and the firebird[1] streamed by them with his +deep red plumage. + + +[1] Orchard oriole. + + +They now came to an inclosure that had once been a garden. It +extended along the foot of a rocky ridge, but was little better +than a wilderness of weeds, with here and there a matted rosebush, +or a peach or plum tree, grown wild and ragged, and covered with +moss. At the lower end of the garden they passed a kind of vault +in the side of a bank, facing the water. It had the look of a root +house.[1] The door, though decayed, was still strong, and appeared +to have been recently patched up. Wolfert pushed it open. It gave +a harsh grating upon its hinges, and striking against something +like a box, a rattling sound ensued, and a skull rolled on the +floor. Wolfert drew back shuddering, but was reassured on being +informed by the negro that this was a family vault, belonging to +one of the old Dutch families that owned this estate, an assertion +corroborated by the sight of coffins of various sizes piled within. +Sam had been familiar with all these scenes when a boy, and now +knew that he could not be far from the place of which they were in +quest. + + +[1] "Root house," i.e., a house for storing up potatoes, turnips, +or other roots for the winter feed of cattle. + + +They now made their way to the water's edge, scrambling along +ledges of rocks that overhung the waves, and obliged often to hold +by shrubs and grapevines to avoid slipping into the deep and +hurried stream. At length they came to a small cove, or rather +indent of the shore. It was protected by steep rocks, and +overshadowed by a thick copse of oaks and chestnuts, so as to be +sheltered and almost concealed. The beach shelved gradually within +the cove, but, the current swept deep and black and rapid along its +jutting points. The negro paused, raised his remnant of a hat, and +scratched his grizzled poll for a moment, as he regarded this nook; +then suddenly clapping his hands, he stepped exultingly forward, +and pointed to a large iron ring, stapled firmly in the rock, just +where a broad shelf of stone furnished a commodious landing place. +It was the very spot where the red-caps had landed. Years had +changed the more perishable features of the scene; but rock and +iron yield slowly to the influence of time. On looking more +closely Wolfert remarked three crosses cut in the rock just above +the ring, which had no doubt some mysterious signification. Old +Sam now readily recognized the overhanging rock under which his +skiff had been sheltered during the thunder gust. To follow up the +course which the midnight gang had taken, however, was a harder +task. His mind had been so much taken up on that eventful occasion +by the persons of the drama as to pay but little attention to the +scenes, and these places looked so different by night and day. +After wandering about for some time, however, they came to an +opening among the trees which Sam thought resembled the place. +There was a ledge of rock of moderate height, like a wall, on one +side, which he thought might be the very ridge whence he had +overlooked the diggers. Wolfert examined it narrowly, and at +length discovered three crosses similar to those on the above ring, +cut deeply into the face of the rock, but nearly obliterated by +moss that had grown over them. His heart leaped with joy, for he +doubted not they were the private marks of the buccaneers. All now +that remained was to ascertain the precise spot where the treasure +lay buried, for otherwise he might dig at random in the +neighborhood of the crosses, without coming upon the spoils, and he +had already had enough of such profitless labor. Here, however, +the old negro was perfectly at a loss, and indeed perplexed him by +a variety of opinions, for his recollections were all confused. +Sometimes he declared it must have been at the foot of a mulberry +tree hard by; then beside a great white stone; then under a small +green knoll, a short distance from the ledge of rocks, until at +length Wolfert became as bewildered as himself. + +The shadows of evening were now spreading themselves over the +woods, and rock and tree began to mingle together. It was +evidently too late to attempt anything further at present, and, +indeed, Wolfert had come unprovided with implements to prosecute +his researches. Satisfied, therefore, with having ascertained the +place, he took note of all its landmarks, that he might recognize +it again, and set out on his return homeward, resolved to prosecute +this golden enterprise without delay. + +The leading anxiety which had hitherto absorbed every feeling being +now in some measure appeased, fancy began to wander, and to conjure +up a thousand shapes and chimeras as he returned through this +haunted region. Pirates hanging in chains seemed to swing from +every tree, and he almost expected to see some Spanish don, with +his throat cut from ear to ear, rising slowly out of the ground, +and shaking the ghost of a money bag. + +Their way back lay through the desolate garden, and Wolfert's +nerves had arrived at so sensitive a state that the flitting of a +bird, the rustling of a leaf, or the falling of a nut was enough to +startle him. As they entered the confines of the garden, they +caught sight of a figure at a distance advancing slowly up one of +the walks, and bending under the weight of a burden. They paused +and regarded him attentively. He wore what appeared to be a woolen +cap, and, still more alarming, of a most sanguinary red. + +The figure moved slowly on, ascended the bank, and stopped at the +very door of the sepulchral vault. Just before entering it he +looked around. What was the affright of Wolfert when he recognized +the grisly visage of the drowned buccaneer! He uttered an +ejaculation of horror. The figure slowly raised his iron fist and +shook it with a terrible menace. Wolfert did not pause to see any +more, but hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him, nor was +Sam slow in following at his heels, having all his ancient terrors +revived. Away, then, did they scramble through bush and brake, +horribly frightened at every bramble that tugged at their skirts, +nor did they pause to breathe until they had blundered their way +through this perilous wood, and fairly reached the highroad to the +city. + +Several days elapsed before Wolfert could summon courage enough to +prosecute the enterprise, so much had he been dismayed by the +apparition, whether living or dead, of the grisly buccaneer. In +the meantime, what a conflict of mind did he suffer! He neglected +all his concerns, was moody and restless all day, lost his +appetite, wandered in his thoughts and words, and committed a +thousand blunders. His rest was broken, and when he fell asleep +the nightmare, in shape of a huge money bag, sat squatted upon his +breast. He babbled about incalculable sums, fancied himself +engaged in money digging, threw the bedclothes right and left, in +the idea that he was shoveling away the dirt, groped under the bed +in quest of the treasure, and lugged forth, as he supposed, an +inestimable pot of gold. + +Dame Webber and her daughter were in despair at what they conceived +a returning touch of insanity. There are two family oracles, one +or other of which Dutch housewives consult in all cases of great +doubt and perplexity,--the dominie and the doctor. In the present +instance they repaired to the doctor. There was at that time a +little dark, moldy man of medicine, famous among the old wives of +the Manhattoes for his skill, not only in the healing art, but in +all matters of strange and mysterious nature. His name was Dr. +Knipperhausen, but he was more commonly known by the appellation of +the "High German Doctor."[1] To him did the poor women repair for +counsel and assistance touching the mental vagaries of Wolfert +Webber. + + +[1] The same, no doubt, of whom mention is made in the history of +Dolph Heyliger. + + +They found the doctor seated in his little study, clad in his dark +camlet[1] robe of knowledge, with his black velvet cap, after the +manner of Boerhaave,[2] Van Helmont,[3] and other medical sages, a +pair of green spectacles set in black horn upon his clubbed nose, +and poring over a German folio that reflected back the darkness of +his physiognomy. The doctor listened to their statement of the +symptoms of Wolfert's malady with profound attention, but when they +came to mention his raving about buried money the little man +pricked up his ears. Alas, poor women! they little knew the aid +they had called in. + + +[1] A fabric made of goat's hair and silk, or wool and cotton. + +[2] Hermann Boerhaave (1668-1738), a celebrated Dutch physician and +philosopher. + +[3] Jan Baptista Van Helmont (1577-1644), a celebrated Flemish +physician and chemist. + + +Dr. Knipperhausen had been half his life engaged in seeking the +short cuts to fortune, in quest of which so many a long lifetime is +wasted. He had passed some years of his youth among the Harz[1] +mountains of Germany, and had derived much valuable instruction +from the miners touching the mode of seeking treasure buried in the +earth. He had prosecuted his studies, also, under a traveling sage +who united the mysteries of medicine with magic and legerdemain. +His mind, therefore, had become stored with all kinds of mystic +lore; he had dabbled a little in astrology, alchemy, divination;[2] +knew how to detect stolen money, and to tell where springs of water +lay hidden; in a word, by the dark nature of his knowledge he had +acquired the name of the "High German Doctor," which is pretty +nearly equivalent to that of necromancer. The doctor had often +heard rumors of treasure being buried in various parts of the +island, and had long been anxious to get on the traces of it. No +sooner were Wolfert's waking and sleeping vagaries confided to him +than he beheld in them the confirmed symptoms of a case of money +digging, and lost no time in probing it to the bottom. Wolfert had +long been sorely oppressed in mind by the golden secret, and as a +family physician is a kind of father confessor, he was glad of any +opportunity of unburdening himself. So far from curing, the doctor +caught the malady from his patient. The circumstances unfolded to +him awakened all his cupidity; he had not a doubt of money being +buried somewhere in the neighborhood of the mysterious crosses, and +offered to join Wolfert in the search. He informed him that much +secrecy and caution must be observed in enterprises of the kind; +that money is only to be dug for at night, with certain forms and +ceremonies and burning of drugs, the repeating of mystic words, +and, above all, that the seekers must first be provided with a +divining rod,[3] which had the wonderful property of pointing to +the very spot on the surface of the earth under which treasure lay +hidden. As the doctor had given much of his mind to these matters +he charged himself with all the necessary preparations, and, as the +quarter of the moon was propitious, he undertook to have the +divining rod ready by a certain night. + + +[1] A mountain chain in northwestern Germany, between the Elbe and +the Weser. + +[2] Astrology, alchemy, and divination were three imaginary arts. +The first pretended to judge of the influence of the stars on human +affairs, and to foretell events by their positions and aspects; the +second aimed to transmute the baser metals into gold, and to find a +universal remedy for diseases; while the third dealt with the +discovery of secret or future events by preternatural means. + +[3] A divining rod is a rod used by those who pretend to discover +water or metals underground. It is commonly made of witch hazel, +with forked branches. + + +Wolfert's heart leaped with joy at having met with so learned and +able a coadjutor. Everything went on secretly but swimmingly. The +doctor had many consultations with his patient, and the good women +of the household lauded the comforting effect of his visits. In +the meantime the wonderful divining rod, that great key to nature's +secrets, was duly prepared. The doctor had thumbed over all his +books of knowledge for the occasion, and the black fisherman was +engaged to take them in his skiff to the scene of enterprise, to +work with spade and pickax in unearthing the treasure, and to +freight his bark with the weighty spoils they were certain of +finding. + +At length the appointed night arrived for this perilous +undertaking. Before Wolfert left his home he counseled his wife +and daughter to go to bed, and feel no alarm if he should not +return during the night. Like reasonable women, on being told not +to feel alarm they fell immediately into a panic. They saw at once +by his manner that something unusual was in agitation; all their +fears about the unsettled state of his mind were revived with +tenfold force; they hung about him, entreating him not to expose +himself to the night air, but all in vain. When once Wolfert was +mounted on his hobby,[1] it was no easy manner to get him out of +the saddle. It was a clear, starlight night when he issued out of +the portal of the Webber palace. He wore a large flapped hat, tied +under the chin with a handkerchief of his daughter's, to secure him +from the night damp, while Dame Webber threw her long red cloak +about his shoulders, and fastened it round his neck. + + +[1] Hobby, or hobbyhorse, a favorite theme of thought; hence, "to +mount a hobby" is to follow a favorite pursuit. + + +The doctor had been no less carefully armed and accoutered by his +housekeeper, the vigilant Frau Ilsy, and sallied forth in his +camlet robe by way of surcoat,[1] his black velvet cap under his +cocked hat, a thick clasped book under his arm, a basket of drugs +and dried herbs in one hand, and in the other the miraculous rod of +divination. + + +[1] Overcoat. + + +The great church clock struck ten as Wolfert and the doctor passed +by the churchyard, and the watchman bawled in hoarse voice a long +and doleful "All's well!" A deep sleep had already fallen upon +this primitive little burgh; nothing disturbed this awful silence +excepting now and then the bark of some profligate, night-walking +dog, or the serenade of some romantic cat. It is true Wolfert +fancied more than once that he heard the sound of a stealthy +footfall at a distance behind them; but it might have been merely +the echo of their own steps along the quiet streets. He thought +also at one time that he saw a tall figure skulking after them, +stopping when they stopped and moving on as they proceeded; but the +dim and uncertain lamplight threw such vague gleams and shadows +that this might all have been mere fancy. + +They found the old fisherman waiting for them, smoking his pipe in +the stern of the skiff, which was moored just in front of his +little cabin. A pickax and spade were lying in the bottom of the +boat, with a dark lantern, and a stone bottle of good Dutch +courage,[1] in which honest Sam no doubt put even more faith than +Dr. Knipperhausen in his drugs. + + +[1] Dutch courage is courage that results from indulgence in Dutch +gin or Hollands; here applied to the gin itself. + + +Thus, then, did these three worthies embark in their cockleshell of +a skiff upon this nocturnal expedition, with a wisdom and valor +equaled only by the three wise men of Gotham,[1] who adventured to +sea in a bowl. The tide was rising and running rapidly up the +Sound. The current bore them along, almost without the aid of an +oar. The profile of the town lay all in shadow. Here and there a +light feebly glimmered from some sick chamber, or from the cabin +window of some vessel at anchor in the stream. Not a cloud +obscured the deep, starry firmament, the lights of which wavered on +the surface of the placid river, and a shooting meteor, streaking +its pale course in the very direction they were taking, was +interpreted by the doctor into a most propitious omen. + + + [1] "Three wise men of Gotham, + They went to sea in a bowl-- + And if the bowl had been stronger, + My tale had been longer." + Mother Goose Melody. + + +[1] Gotham was a village proverbial for the blundering simplicity of +its inhabitants. At first the name referred to an English village. +Irving applied it to New York City. + + +In a little while they glided by the point of Corlear's Hook, with +the rural inn which had been the scene of such night adventures. +The family had retired to rest, and the house was dark and still. +Wolfert felt a chill pass over him as they passed the point where +the buccaneer had disappeared. He pointed it out to Dr. +Knipperhausen. While regarding it they thought they saw a boat +actually lurking at the very place; but the shore cast such a +shadow over the border of the water that they could discern nothing +distinctly. They had not proceeded far when they heard the low +sounds of distant oars, as if cautiously pulled. Sam plied his +oars with redoubled vigor, and knowing all the eddies and currents +of the stream, soon left their followers, if such they were, far +astern. In a little while they stretched across Turtle Bay and +Kip's Bay,[1] then shrouded themselves in the deep shadows of the +Manhattan shore, and glided swiftly along, secure from observation. +At length the negro shot his skiff into a little cove, darkly +embowered by trees, and made it fast to the well-known iron ring. +They now landed, and lighting the lantern gathered their various +implements and proceeded slowly through the bushes. Every sound +startled them, even that of their own footsteps among the dry +leaves, and the hooting of a screech owl, from the shattered +chimney of the neighboring ruin, made their blood run cold. + + +[1] A small bay in the East River below Corlear's Hook. + + +In spite of all Wolfert's caution in taking note of the landmarks, +it was some time before they could find the open place among the +trees, where the treasure was supposed to be buried. At length +they came to the ledge of rock, and on examining its surface by the +aid of the lantern, Wolfert recognized the three mystic crosses. +Their hearts beat quick, for the momentous trial was at hand that +was to determine their hopes. + +The lantern was now held by Wolfert Webber, while the doctor +produced the divining rod. It was a forked twig, one end of which +was grasped firmly in each hand, while the center, forming the +stem, pointed perpendicularly upward. The doctor moved his wand +about, within a certain distance of the earth, from place to place, +but for some time without any effect, while Wolfert kept the light +of the lantern turned full upon it, and watched it with the most +breathless interest. At length the rod began slowly to turn. The +doctor grasped it with greater earnestness, his hands trembling +with the agitation of his mind. The wand continued to turn +gradually, until at length the stem had reversed its position, and +pointed perpendicularly downward, and remained pointing to one spot +as fixedly as the needle to the pole. + +"This is the spot!" said the doctor, in an almost inaudible tone. + +Wolfert's heart was in his throat. + +"Shall I dig?" said the negro, grasping the spade. + +"Pots tausend,[1] no!" replied the little doctor hastily. He now +ordered his companions to keep close by him, and to maintain the +most inflexible silence; that certain precautions must be taken and +ceremonies used to prevent the evil spirits which kept about buried +treasure from doing them any harm. He then drew a circle about the +place, enough to include the whole party. He next gathered dry +twigs and leaves and made a fire, upon which he threw certain drugs +and dried herbs which he had brought in his basket. A thick smoke +rose, diffusing a potent odor savoring marvelously of brimstone and +asafetida, which, however grateful it might be to the olfactory +nerves of spirits, nearly strangled poor Wolfert, and produced a +fit of coughing and wheezing that made the whole grove resound. +Dr. Knipperhausen then unclasped the volume which he had brought +under his arm, which was printed in red and black characters in +German text. While Wolfert held the lantern, the doctor, by the +aid of his spectacles, read off several forms of conjuration in +Latin and German. He then ordered Sam to seize the pickax and +proceed to work. The close-bound soil gave obstinate signs of not +having been disturbed for many a year. After having picked his way +through the surface, Sam came to a bed of sand and gravel, which he +threw briskly to right and left with the spade. + + +[1] A German exclamation of anger, equivalent to the English +"zounds!" + + +"Hark!" said Wolfert, who fancied he heard a trampling among the +dry leaves and a rustling through the bushes. Sam paused for a +moment, and they listened. No footstep was near. The bat flitted +by them in silence; a bird, roused from its roost by the light +which glared up among the trees, flew circling about the flame. In +the profound stillness of the woodland they could distinguish the +current rippling along the rocky shore, and the distant murmuring +and roaring of Hell Gate. + +The negro continued his labors, and had already digged a +considerable hole. The doctor stood on the edge, reading formulae +every now and then from his black-letter volume, or throwing more +drugs and herbs upon the fire, while Wolfert bent anxiously over +the pit, watching every stroke of the spade. Anyone witnessing the +scene thus lighted up by fire, lantern, and the reflection of +Wolfert's red mantle, might have mistaken the little doctor for +some foul magician, busied in his incantations, and the grizzly- +headed negro for some swart goblin obedient to his commands. + +At length the spade of the fisherman struck upon something that +sounded hollow. The sound vibrated to Wolfert's heart. He struck +his spade again. + +"'Tis a chest," said Sam. + +"Full of gold, I'll warrant it!" cried Wolfert, clasping his hands +with rapture. + +Scarcely had he uttered the words when a sound from above caught +his ear. He cast up his eyes, and lo! by the expiring light of the +fire he beheld, just over the disk of the rock, what appeared to be +the grim visage of the drowned buccaneer, grinning hideously down +upon him. + +Wolfert gave a loud cry and let fall the lantern. His panic +communicated itself to his companions. The negro leaped out of the +hole, the doctor dropped his book and basket, and began to pray in +German. All was horror and confusion. The fire was scattered +about, the lantern extinguished. In their hurry-scurry[1] they ran +against and confounded one another. They fancied a legion of +hobgoblins let loose upon them, and that they saw, by the fitful +gleams of the scattered embers, strange figures, in red caps, +gibbering and ramping around them. The doctor ran one way, the +negro another, and Wolfert made for the water side. As he plunged +struggling onward through brush and brake, he heard the tread of +some one in pursuit. He scrambled frantically forward. The +footsteps gained upon him. He felt himself grasped by his cloak, +when suddenly his pursuer was attacked in turn; a fierce fight and +struggle ensued, a pistol was discharged that lit up rock and bush +for a second, and showed two figures grappling together; all was +then darker than ever. The contest continued, the combatants +clinched each other, and panted and groaned, and rolled among the +rocks. There was snarling and growling as of a cur, mingled with +curses, in which Wolfert fancied he could recognize the voice of +the buccaneer. He would fain have fled, but he was on the brink of +a precipice, and could go no farther. + + +[1] A swift, disorderly movement. + + +Again the parties were on their feet, again there was a tugging and +struggling, as if strength alone could decide the combat, until one +was precipitated from the brow of the cliff, and sent headlong into +the deep stream that whirled below. Wolfert heard the plunge, and +a kind of strangling, bubbling murmur, but the darkness of the +night hid everything from him, and the swiftness of the current +swept everything instantly out of hearing. One of the combatants +was disposed of, but whether friend or foe Wolfert could not tell, +nor whether they might not both be foes. He heard the survivor +approach, and his terror revived. He saw, where the profile of the +rocks rose against the horizon, a human form advancing. He could +not be mistaken; it must be the buccaneer. Whither should he fly?- +-a precipice was on one side, a murderer on the other. The enemy +approached--he was close at hand. Wolfert attempted to let himself +down the face of the cliff. His cloak caught in a thorn that grew +on the edge. He was jerked from off his feet, and held dangling in +the air, half choked by the string with which his careful wife had +fastened the garment around his neck. Wolfert thought his last +moment was arrived; already had he committed his soul to St. +Nicholas, when the string broke, and he tumbled down the bank, +bumping from rock to rock and bush to bush, and leaving the red +cloak fluttering like a bloody banner in the air. + +It was a long while before Wolfert came to himself. When he opened +his eyes, the ruddy streaks of morning were already shooting up the +sky. He found himself grievously battered, and lying in the bottom +of a boat. He attempted to sit up, but was too sore and stiff to +move. A voice requested him in a friendly accents to lie still. +He turned his eyes toward the speaker; it was Dirk Waldron. He had +dogged the party, at the earnest request of Dame Webber and her +daughter, who, with the laudable curiosity of their sex, had pried +into the secret consultations of Wolfert and the doctor. Dirk had +been completely distanced in following the light skiff of the +fisherman, and had just come in time to rescue the poor money +digger from his pursuer. + +Thus ended this perilous enterprise. The doctor and Black Sam +severally found their way back to the Manhattoes, each having some +dreadful tale of peril to relate. As to poor Wolfert, instead of +returning in triumph, laden with bags of gold, he was borne home on +a shutter, followed by a rabble-rout[1] of curious urchins. His +wife and daughter saw the dismal pageant from a distance, and +alarmed the neighborhood with their cries; they thought the poor +man had suddenly settled the great debt of nature in one of his +wayward moods. Finding him, however, still living, they had him +speedily to bed, and a jury of old matrons of the neighborhood +assembled to determine how he should be doctored. The whole town +was in a buzz with the story of the money diggers. Many repaired +to the scene of the previous night's adventures; but though they +found the very place of the digging, they discovered nothing that +compensated them for their trouble. Some say they found the +fragments of an oaken chest, and an iron pot lid, which savored +strongly of hidden money, and that in the old family vault there +were traces of bales and boxes; but this is all very dubious. + + +[1] A noisy throng. + + +In fact, the secret of all this story has never to this day been +discovered. Whether any treasure were ever actually buried at that +place; whether, if so, it were carried off at night by those who +had buried it; or whether it still remains there under the +guardianship of gnomes and spirits until it shall be properly +sought for, is all matter of conjecture. For my part, I incline to +the latter opinion, and make no doubt that great sums lie buried, +both there and in other parts of this island and its neighborhood, +ever since the times of the buccaneers and the Dutch colonists; and +I would earnestly recommend the search after them to such of my +fellow citizens as are not engaged in any other speculations. + +There were many conjectures formed, also, as to who and what was +the strange man of the seas, who had domineered over the little +fraternity at Corlear's Hook for a time, disappeared so strangely, +and reappeared so fearfully. Some supposed him a smuggler +stationed at that place to assist his comrades in landing their +goods among the rocky coves of the island. Others, that he was one +of the ancient comrades of Kidd or Bradish, returned to convey away +treasures formerly hidden in the vicinity. The only circumstance +that throws anything like a vague light on this mysterious matter +is a report which prevailed of a strange, foreign-built shallop, +with much the look of a picaroon,[1] having been seen hovering +about the Sound for several days without landing or reporting +herself, though boats were seen going to and from her at night; and +that she was seen standing out of the mouth of the harbor, in the +gray of the dawn, after the catastrophe of the money diggers. + + +[1] A piratical vessel. + + +I must not omit to mention another report, also, which I confess is +rather apocryphal, of the buccaneer who is supposed to have been +drowned, being seen before daybreak, with a lantern in his hand, +seated astride of his great sea chest, and sailing through Hell +Gate, which just then began to roar and bellow with redoubled fury. + +While all the gossip world was thus filled with talk and rumor, +poor Wolfert lay sick and sorrowfully in his bed, bruised in body +and sorely beaten down in mind. His wife and daughter did all they +could to bind up his wounds, both corporal and spiritual. The good +old dame never stirred from his bedside, where she sat knitting +from morning till night, while his daughter busied herself about +him with the fondest care. Nor did they lack assistance from +abroad. Whatever may be said of the desertion of friends in +distress, they had no complaint of the kind to make. Not an old +wife of the neighborhood but abandoned her work to crowd to the +mansion of Wolfert Webber, to inquire after his health and the +particulars of his story. Not one came, moreover, without her +little pipkin of pennyroyal, sage, balm, or other herb tea, +delighted at an opportunity of signalizing her kindness and her +doctorship. What drenchings did not the poor Wolfert undergo, and +all in vain! It was a moving sight to behold him wasting away day +by day, growing thinner and thinner and ghastlier and ghastlier, +and staring with rueful visage from under an old patchwork +counterpane, upon the jury of matrons kindly assembled to sigh and +groan and look unhappy around him. + +Dirk Waldron was the only being that seemed to shed a ray of +sunshine into this house of mourning. He came in with cheery look +and manly spirit, and tried to reanimate the expiring heart of the +poor money digger, but it was all in vain. Wolfert was completely +done over.[1] If anything was wanting to complete his despair, it +was a notice, served upon him in the midst of his distress, that +the corporation was about to run a new street through the very +center of his cabbage garden. He now saw nothing before him but +poverty and ruin; his last reliance, the garden of his forefathers, +was to be laid waste, and what then was to become of his poor wife +and child? + + +[1] Exhausted. + + +His eyes filled with tears as they followed the dutiful Amy out of +the room one morning. Dirk Waldron was seated beside him; Wolfert +grasped his hand, pointed after his daughter, and for the first +time since his illness broke the silence he had maintained. + +"I am going!" said he, shaking his head feebly, "and when I am +gone, my poor daughter--" + +"Leave her to me, father!" said Dirk manfully; "I'll take care of +her!" + +Wolfert looked up in the face of the cheery, strapping youngster, +and saw there was none better able to take care of a woman. + +"Enough," said he, "she is yours! And now fetch me a lawyer--let +me make my will and die." + +The lawyer was brought,--a dapper, bustling, round-headed little +man, Roorback (or Rollebuck, as it was pronounced) by name. At the +sight of him the women broke into loud lamentations, for they +looked upon the signing of a will as the signing of a death +warrant. Wolfert made a feeble motion for them to be silent. Poor +Amy buried her face and her grief in the bed curtain. Dame Webber +resumed her knitting to hide her distress, which betrayed itself, +however, in a pellucid tear, which trickled silently down, and hung +at the end of her peaked nose; while the cat, the only unconcerned +member of the family, played with the good dame's ball of worsted +as it rolled about the floor. + +Wolfert lay on his back, his nightcap drawn over his forehead, his +eyes closed, his whole visage the picture of death. He begged the +lawyer to be brief, for he felt his end approaching, and that he +had no time to lose. The lawyer nibbed[1] his pen, spread out his +paper, and prepared to write. + + +[1] In Irving's time, quills were made into pens by pointing or +"nibbing" their ends. + + +"I give and bequeath," said Wolfert faintly, "my small farm--" + +"What! all?" exclaimed the lawyer. + +Wolfert half opened his eyes and looked upon the lawyer. + +"Yes, all," said he. + +"What! all that great patch of land with cabbages and sunflowers, +which the corporation is just going to run a main street through?" + +"The same," said Wolfert, with a heavy sigh, and sinking back upon +his pillow. + +"I wish him joy that inherits it!" said the little lawyer, +chuckling and rubbing his hands involuntarily. + +"What do you mean?" said Wolfert, again opening his eyes. + +"That he'll be one of the richest men in the place," cried little +Rollebuck. + +The expiring Wolfert seemed to step back from the threshold of +existence; his eyes again lighted up; he raised himself in his bed, +shoved back his red worsted nightcap, and stared broadly at the +lawyer. + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed he. + +"Faith but I do!" rejoined the other. "Why, when that great field +and that huge meadow come to be laid out in streets and cut up into +snug building lots,--why, whoever owns it need not pull off his hat +to the patroon!" + +"Say you so?" cried Wolfert, half thrusting one leg out of bed; +"why, then, I think I'll not make my will yet." + +To the surprise of everybody the dying man actually recovered. The +vital spark, which had glimmered faintly in the socket, received +fresh fuel from the oil of gladness which the little lawyer poured +into his soul. It once more burned up into a flame. + +Give physic to the heart, ye who would revive the body of a spirit- +broken man! In a few days Wolfert left his room; in a few days +more his table was covered with deeds, plans of streets and +building lots. Little Rollebuck was constantly with him, his right +hand man and adviser, and instead of making his will assisted in +the more agreeable task of making his fortune. In fact Wolfert +Webber was one of those worthy Dutch burghers of the Manhattoes +whose fortunes have been made, in a manner, in spite of themselves; +who have tenaciously held on to their hereditary acres, raising +turnips and cabbages about the skirts of the city, hardly able to +make both ends meet, until the corporation has cruelly driven +streets through their abodes, and they have suddenly awakened out +of their lethargy, and, to their astonishment, found themselves +rich men. + +Before many months had elapsed a great, bustling street passed +through the very center of the Webber garden, just where Wolfert +had dreamed of finding a treasure. His golden dream was +accomplished; he did, indeed, find an unlooked-for source of +wealth, for, when his paternal lands were distributed into building +lots and rented out to safe tenants, instead of producing a paltry +crop of cabbages they returned him an abundant crop of rent, +insomuch that on quarter day it was a goodly sight to see his +tenants knocking at the door from morning till night, each with a +little round-bellied bag of money, a golden produce of the soil. + +The ancient mansion of his forefathers was still kept up, but, +instead of being a little yellow-fronted Dutch house in a garden, +it now stood boldly in the midst of a street, the grand home of the +neighborhood; for Wolfert enlarged it with a wing on each side, and +a cupola or tea room on top, where he might climb up and smoke his +pipe in hot weather, and in the course of time the whole mansion +was overrun by the chubby-faced progeny of Amy Webber and Dirk +Waldron. + +As Wolfert waxed old and rich and corpulent he also set up a great +gingerbread-colored carriage, drawn by a pair of black Flanders +mares with tails that swept the ground; and to commemorate the +origin of his greatness he had for his crest a full-blown cabbage +painted on the panels, with the pithy motto, ALLES KOPF, that is to +say, ALL HEAD, meaning thereby that he had risen by sheer head +work. + +To fill the measure of his greatness, in the fullness of time the +renowned Ramm Rapelye slept with his fathers, and Wolfert Webber +succeeded to the leather-bottomed armchair in the inn parlor at +Corlear's Hook; where he long reigned, greatly honored and +respected, insomuch that he was never known to tell a story without +its being believed, nor to utter a joke without its being laughed +at. + + + +Introduction to "Wieland's Madness," from "Wieland, or The +Transformation." + + + From Virtue's blissful paths away + The double-tongued are sure to stray; + Good is a forth-right journey still. + And mazy paths but lead to ill. + + +"WIELAND" is the first American novel. It appeared in 1798; its +author was soon recognized as the earliest American novelist; and +he remained the greatest, until Fenimore Cooper brought forth his +Leather-stocking Tales, a quarter of a century later. + +Although modern sophistication easily points out flaws in Charles +Brockden Brown's story-structure, and reproves him for +improbability, morbidness, and a style often too elevated, yet his +work lives. His downright originality is worthy of Cooper himself, +and his weird imaginations and horribly sustained scenes of terror +have been surpassed by few writers save Edgar Allan Poe. + + + +Charles Brockden Brown + + +FIRST PART + +I + +Wieland's Madness + + +[As the story opens, the narratress, Clara Wieland, is entering +upon the happy realization of her love for Henry Pleyel, closest +friend of her brother "Wieland." + +Their woodland home, Mettingen, on the banks of the then remote +Schuylkill, is the abode of music, letters and thorough culture. +The peace of high thinking and simple outdoor life hovers over +all.] + + +One sunny afternoon I was standing in the door of my house, when I +marked a person passing close to the edge of the bank that was in +front. His pace was a careless and lingering one, and had none of +that gracefulness and ease which distinguish a person with certain +advantages of education from a clown. His gait was rustic and +awkward. His form was ungainly and disproportioned. Shoulders +broad and square, breast sunken, his head drooping, his body of +uniform breadth, supported by long and lank legs, were the +ingredients of his frame. His garb was not ill adapted to such a +figure. A slouched hat, tarnished by the weather, a coat of thick +gray cloth, cut and wrought, as it seemed, by a country tailor, +blue worsted stockings, and shoes fastened by thongs and deeply +discolored by dust, which brush had never disturbed, constituted +his dress. + +There was nothing remarkable in these appearances: they were +frequently to be met with on the road and in the harvest-field. I +cannot tell why I gazed upon them, on this occasion, with more than +ordinary attention, unless it were that such figures were seldom +seen by me except on the road or field. This lawn was only +traversed by men whose views were directed to the pleasures of the +walk or the grandeur of the scenery. + +He passed slowly along, frequently pausing, as if to examine the +prospect more deliberately, but never turning his eye toward the +house, so as to allow me a view of his countenance. Presently he +entered a copse at a small distance, and disappeared. My eye +followed him while he remained in sight. If his image remained for +any duration in my fancy after his departure, it was because no +other object occurred sufficient to expel it. + +I continued in the same spot for half an hour, vaguely, and by +fits, contemplating the image of this wanderer, and drawing from +outward appearances those inferences, with respect to the +intellectual history of this person, which experience affords us. +I reflected on the alliance which commonly subsists between +ignorance and the practice of agriculture, and indulged myself in +airy speculations as to the influence of progressive knowledge in +dissolving this alliance and embodying the dreams of the poets. I +asked why the plow and the hoe might not become the trade of every +human being, and how this trade might be made conducive to, or at +least consistent with, the acquisition of wisdom and eloquence. + +Weary with these reflections, I returned to the kitchen to perform +some household office. I had usually but one servant, and she was +a girl about my own age. I was busy near the chimney, and she was +employed near the door of the apartment, when some one knocked. +The door was opened by her, and she was immediately addressed with, +"Prythee, good girl, canst thou supply a thirsty man with a glass +of buttermilk?" She answered that there was none in the house. +"Aye, but there is some in the dairy yonder. Thou knowest as well +as I, though Hermes never taught thee, that, though every dairy be +a house, every house is not a dairy." To this speech, though she +understood only a part of it, she replied by repeating her +assurances that she had none to give. "Well, then," rejoined the +stranger, "for charity's sweet sake, hand me forth a cup of cold +water." The girl said she would go to the spring and fetch it. +"Nay, give me the cup, and suffer me to help myself. Neither +manacled nor lame, I should merit burial in the maw of carrion +crows if I laid this task upon thee." She gave him the cup, and he +turned to go to the spring. + +I listened to this dialogue in silence. The words uttered by the +person without affected me as somewhat singular; but what chiefly +rendered them remarkable was the tone that accompanied them. It +was wholly new. My brother's voice and Pleyel's were musical and +energetic. I had fondly imagined that, in this respect, they were +surpassed by none. Now my mistake was detected. I cannot pretend +to communicate the impression that was made upon me by these +accents, or to depict the degree in which force and sweetness were +blended in them. They were articulated with a distinctness that +was unexampled in my experience. But this was not all. The voice +was not only mellifluent and clear, but the emphasis was so just, +and the modulation so impassioned, that it seemed as if a heart of +stone could not fail of being moved by it. It imparted to me an +emotion altogether involuntary and uncontrollable. When he uttered +the words, "for charity's sweet sake," I dropped the cloth that I +held in my hand; my heart overflowed with sympathy and my eyes with +unbidden tears. + +This description will appear to you trifling or incredible. The +importance of these circumstances will be manifested in the sequel. +The manner in which I was affected on this occasion was, to my own +apprehension, a subject of astonishment. The tones were indeed +such as I never heard before; but that they should in an instant, +as it were, dissolve me in tears, will not easily be believed by +others, and can scarcely be comprehended by myself. + +It will be readily supposed that I was somewhat inquisitive as to +the person and demeanor of our visitant. After a moment's pause, I +stepped to the door and looked after him. Judge my surprise when I +beheld the selfsame figure that had appeared a half-hour before +upon the bank. My fancy had conjured up a very different image. A +form and attitude and garb were instantly created worthy to +accompany such elocution; but this person was, in all visible +respects, the reverse of this phantom. Strange as it may seem, I +could not speedily reconcile myself to this disappointment. +Instead of returning to my employment, I threw myself in a chair +that was placed opposite the door, and sunk into a fit of musing. + +My attention was in a few minutes recalled by the stranger, who +returned with the empty cup in his hand. I had not thought of the +circumstance, or should certainly have chosen a different seat. He +no sooner showed himself, than a confused sense of impropriety, +added to the suddenness of the interview, for which, not having +foreseen it, I had made no preparation, threw me into a state of +the most painful embarrassment. He brought with him a placid brow; +but no sooner had he cast his eyes upon me than his face was as +glowingly suffused as my own. He placed the cup upon the bench, +stammered out thanks, and retired. + +It was some time before I could recover my wonted composure. I had +snatched a view of the stranger's countenance. The impression that +it made was vivid and indelible. His cheeks were pallid and lank, +his eyes sunken, his forehead overshadowed by coarse straggling +hairs, his teeth large and irregular, though sound and brilliantly +white, and his chin discolored by a tetter. His skin was of coarse +grain and sallow hue. Every feature was wide of beauty, and the +outline of his face reminded you of an inverted cone. + +And yet his forehead, so far as shaggy locks would allow it to be +seen, his eyes lustrously black, and possessing, in the midst of +haggardness, a radiance inexpressibly serene and potent, and +something in the rest of his features which it would be in vain to +describe, but which served to betoken a mind of the highest order, +were essential ingredients in the portrait. This, in the effects +which immediately flowed from it, I count among the most +extraordinary incidents of my life. This face, seen for a moment, +continued for hours to occupy my fancy, to the exclusion of almost +every other image. I had proposed to spend the evening with my +brother; but I could not resist the inclination of forming a sketch +upon paper of this memorable visage. Whether my hand was aided by +any peculiar inspiration, or I was deceived by my own fond +conceptions, this portrait, though hastily executed, appeared +unexceptionable to my own taste. + +I placed it at all distances and in all lights; my eyes were +riveted upon it. Half the night passed away in wakefulness and in +contemplation of this picture. So flexible, and yet so stubborn, +is the human mind! So obedient to impulses the most transient and +brief, and yet so unalterably observant of the direction which is +given to it! How little did I then foresee the termination of that +chain of which this may be regarded as the first link! + +Next day arose in darkness and storm. Torrents of rain fell during +the whole day, attended with incessant thunder, which reverberated +in stunning echoes from the opposite declivity. The inclemency of +the air would not allow me to walk out. I had, indeed, no +inclination to leave my apartment. I betook myself to the +contemplation of this portrait, whose attractions time had rather +enhanced than diminished. I laid aside my usual occupations, and, +seating myself at a window, consumed the day in alternately looking +out upon the storm and gazing at the picture which lay upon a table +before me. You will perhaps deem this conduct somewhat singular, +and ascribe it to certain peculiarities of temper. I am not aware +of any such peculiarities. I can account for my devotion to this +image no otherwise than by supposing that its properties were rare +and prodigious. Perhaps you will suspect that such were the first +inroads of a passion incident to every female heart, and which +frequently gains a footing by means even more slight and more +improbable than these. I shall not controvert the reasonableness +of the suspicion, but leave you at liberty to draw from my +narrative what conclusions you please. + +Night at length returned, and the storm ceased. The air was once +more clear and calm, and bore an affecting contrast to that uproar +of the elements by which it had been preceded. I spent the +darksome hours, as I spent the day, contemplative and seated at the +window. Why was my mind absorbed in thoughts ominous and dreary? +Why did my bosom heave with sighs and my eyes overflow with tears? +Was the tempest that had just passed a signal of the ruin which +impended over me? My soul fondly dwelt upon the images of my +brother and his children; yet they only increased the mournfulness +of my contemplations. The smiles of the charming babes were as +bland as formerly. The same dignity sat on the brow of their +father, and yet I thought of them with anguish. Something +whispered that the happiness we at present enjoyed was set on +mutable foundations. Death must happen to all. Whether our +felicity was to be subverted by it to-morrow, or whether it was +ordained that we should lay down our heads full of years and of +honor, was a question that no human being could solve. At other +times these ideas seldom intruded. I either forbore to reflect +upon the destiny that is reserved for all men, or the reflection +was mixed up with images that disrobed it of terror; but now the +uncertainty of life occurred to me without any of its usual and +alleviating accompaniments. I said to myself, We must die. Sooner +or later, we must disappear forever from the face of the earth. +Whatever be the links that hold us to life, they must be broken. +This scene of existence is, in all its parts, calamitous. The +greater number is oppressed with immediate evils, and those the +tide of whose fortunes is full, how small is their portion of +enjoyment, since they know that it will terminate! + +For some time I indulged myself, without reluctance, in these +gloomy thoughts; but at length the delection which they produced +became insupportably painful. I endeavored to dissipate it with +music. I had all my grandfather's melody as well as poetry by +rote. I now lighted by chance on a ballad which commemorated the +fate of a German cavalier who fell at the siege of Nice under +Godfrey of Bouillon. My choice was unfortunate; for the scenes of +violence and carnage which were here wildly but forcibly portrayed +only suggested to my thoughts a new topic in the horrors of war. + +I sought refuge, but ineffectually, in sleep. My mind was thronged +by vivid but confused images, and no effort that I made was +sufficient to drive them away. In this situation I heard the +clock, which hung in the room, give the signal for twelve. It was +the same instrument which formerly hung in my father's chamber, and +which, on account of its being his workmanship, was regarded by +everyone of our family with veneration. It had fallen to me in the +division of his property, and was placed in this asylum. The sound +awakened a series of reflections respecting his death. I was not +allowed to pursue them; for scarcely had the vibrations ceased, +when my attention was attracted by a whisper, which, at first, +appeared to proceed from lips that were laid close to my ear. + +No wonder that a circumstance like this startled me. In the first +impulse of my terror, I uttered a slight scream and shrunk to the +opposite side of the bed. In a moment, however, I recovered from +my trepidation. I was habitually indifferent to all the causes of +fear by which the majority are afflicted. I entertained no +apprehension of either ghosts or robbers. Our security had never +been molested by either, and I made use of no means to prevent or +counterwork their machinations. My tranquillity on this occasion +was quickly retrieved. The whisper evidently proceeded from one +who was posted at my bedside. The first idea that suggested itself +was that it was uttered by the girl who lived with me as a servant. +Perhaps somewhat had alarmed her, or she was sick, and had come to +request my assistance. By whispering in my ear she intended to +rouse without alarming me. + +Full of this persuasion, I called, "Judith, is it you? What do you +want? Is there anything the matter with you?" No answer was +returned. I repeated my inquiry, but equally in vain. Cloudy as +was the atmosphere, and curtained as my bed was, nothing was +visible. I withdrew the curtain, and, leaning my head on my elbow, +I listened with the deepest attention to catch some new sound. +Meanwhile, I ran over in my thoughts every circumstance that could +assist my conjectures. + +My habitation was a wooden edifice, consisting of two stories. In +each story were two rooms, separated by an entry, or middle +passage, with which they communicated by opposite doors. The +passage on the lower story had doors at the two ends, and a +staircase. Windows answered to the doors on the upper story. +Annexed to this, on the eastern side, were wings, divided in like +manner into an upper and lower room; one of them comprised a +kitchen, and chamber above it for the servant, and communicated on +both stories with the parlor adjoining it below and the chamber +adjoining it above. The opposite wing is of smaller dimensions, +the rooms not being above eight feet square. The lower of these +was used as a depository of household implements; the upper was a +closet in which I deposited my books and papers. They had but one +inlet, which was from the room adjoining. There was no window in +the lower one, and in the upper a small aperture which communicated +light and air, but would scarcely admit the body. The door which +led into this was close to my bed head, and was always locked but +when I myself was within. The avenues below were accustomed to be +closed and bolted at nights. + +The maid was my only companion; and she could not reach my chamber +without previously passing through the opposite chamber and the +middle passage, of which, however, the doors were usually +unfastened. If she had occasioned this noise, she would have +answered my repeated calls. No other conclusion, therefore, was +left me, but that I had mistaken the sounds, and that my +imagination had transformed some casual noise into the voice of a +human creature. Satisfied with this solution, I was preparing to +relinquish my listening attitude, when my ear was again saluted +with a new and yet louder whispering. It appeared, as before, to +issue from lips that touched my pillow. A second effort of +attention, however, clearly showed me that the sounds issued from +within the closet, the door of which was not more than eight inches +from my pillow. + +This second interruption occasioned a shock less vehement than the +former. I started, but gave no audible token of alarm. I was so +much mistress of my feelings as to continue listening to what +should be said. The whisper was distinct, hoarse, and uttered so +as to show that the speaker was desirous of being heard by some one +near, but, at the same time, studious to avoid being overheard by +any other:-- + +"Stop! stop, I say, madman as you are! there are better means than +that. Curse upon your rashness! There is no need to shoot." + +Such were the words uttered, in a tone of eagerness and anger, +within so small a distance of my pillow. What construction could I +put upon them? My heart began to palpitate with dread of some +unknown danger. Presently, another voice, but equally near me, was +heard whispering in answer, "Why not? I will draw a trigger in +this business; but perdition be my lot if I do more!" To this the +first voice returned, in a tone which rage had heightened in a +small degree above a whisper, "Coward! stand aside, and see me do +it. I will grasp her throat; I will do her business in an instant; +she shall not have time so much as to groan." What wonder that I +was petrified by sounds so dreadful! Murderers lurked in my +closet. They were planning the means of my destruction. One +resolved to shoot, and the other menaced suffocation. Their means +being chosen, they would forthwith break the door. Flight +instantly suggested itself as most eligible in circumstances so +perilous. I deliberated not a moment; but, fear adding wings to my +speed, I leaped out of bed, and, scantily robed as I was, rushed +out of the chamber, downstairs, and into the open air. I can +hardly recollect the process of turning keys and withdrawing bolts. +My terrors urged me forward with almost a mechanical impulse. I +stopped not till I reached my brother's door. I had not gained the +threshold, when, exhausted by the violence of my emotions and by my +speed, I sunk down in a fit. + +How long I remained in this situation I know not. When I +recovered, I found myself stretched on a bed, surrounded by my +sister and her female servants. I was astonished at the scene +before me, but gradually recovered the recollection of what had +happened. I answered their importunate inquiries as well as I was +able. My brother and Pleyel, whom the storm of the preceding day +chanced to detain here, informing themselves of every particular, +proceeded with lights and weapons to my deserted habitation. They +entered my chamber and my closet, and found everything in its +proper place and customary order. The door of the closet was +locked, and appeared not to have been opened in my absence. They +went to Judith's apartment. They found her asleep and in safety. +Pleyel's caution induced him to forbear alarming the girl; and, +finding her wholly ignorant of what had passed, they directed her +to return to her chamber. They then fastened the doors and +returned. + +My friends were disposed to regard this transaction as a dream. +That persons should be actually immured in this closet, to which, +in the circumstances of the time, access from without or within was +apparently impossible, they could not seriously believe. That any +human beings had intended murder, unless it were to cover a scheme +of pillage, was incredible; but that no such design had been formed +was evident from the security in which the furniture of the house +and the closet remained. + +I revolved every incident and expression that had occurred. My +senses assured me of the truth of them; and yet their abruptness +and improbability made me, in my turn, somewhat incredulous. The +adventure had made a deep impression on my fancy; and it was not +till after a week's abode at my brother's that I resolved to resume +the possession of my own dwelling. + +There was another circumstance that enhanced the mysteriousness of +this event. After my recovery, it was obvious to inquire by what +means the attention of the family had been drawn to my situation. +I had fallen before I had reached the threshold or was able to give +any signal. My brother related that, while this was transacting in +my chamber, he himself was awake, in consequence of some slight +indisposition, and lay, according to his custom, musing on some +favorite topic. Suddenly the silence, which was remarkably +profound, was broken by a voice of most piercing shrillness, that +seemed to be uttered by one in the hall below his chamber. "Awake! +arise!" it exclaimed; "hasten to succor one that is dying at your +door!" + +This summons was effectual. There was no one in the house who was +not roused by it. Pleyel was the first to obey, and my brother +overtook him before he reached the hall. What was the general +astonishment when your friend was discovered stretched upon the +grass before the door, pale, ghastly, and with every mark of death! + +But how was I to regard this midnight conversation? Hoarse and +manlike voices conferring on the means of death, so near my bed, +and at such an hour! How had my ancient security vanished! That +dwelling which had hitherto been an inviolate asylum was now beset +with danger to my life. That solitude formerly so dear to me could +no longer be endured. Pleyel, who had consented to reside with us +during the months of spring, lodged in the vacant chamber, in order +to quiet my alarms. He treated my fears with ridicule, and in a +short time very slight traces of them remained; but, as it was +wholly indifferent to him whether his nights were passed at my +house or at my brother's, this arrangement gave general +satisfaction. + + +II + + +I will enumerate the various inquiries and conjectures which these +incidents occasioned. After all our efforts, we came no nearer to +dispelling the mist in which they were involved; and time, instead +of facilitating a solution, only accumulated our doubts. + +In the midst of thoughts excited by these events, I was not +unmindful of my interview with the stranger. I related the +particulars, and showed the portrait to my friends. Pleyel +recollected to have met with a figure resembling my description in +the city; but neither his face or garb made the same impression +upon him that it made upon me. It was a hint to rally me upon my +prepossessions, and to amuse us with a thousand ludicrous anecdotes +which he had collected in his travels. He made no scruple to +charge me with being in love; and threatened to inform the swain, +when he met him, of his good fortune. + +Pleyel's temper made him susceptible of no durable impressions. +His conversation was occasionally visited by gleams of his ancient +vivacity; but, though his impetuosity was sometimes inconvenient, +there was nothing to dread from his malice. I had no fear that my +character or dignity would suffer in his hands, and was not +heartily displeased when he declared his intention of profiting by +his first meeting with the stranger to introduce him to our +acquaintance. + +Some weeks after this I had spent a toilsome day, and, as the sun +declined, found myself disposed to seek relief in a walk. The +river bank is, at this part of it and for some considerable space +upward, so rugged and steep as not to be easily descended. In a +recess of this declivity, near the southern verge of my little +demesne, was placed a slight building, with seats and lattices. +From a crevice of the rock to which this edifice was attached there +burst forth a stream of the purest water, which, leaping from ledge +to ledge for the space of sixty feet, produced a freshness in the +air, and a murmur, the most delicious and soothing imaginable. +These, added to the odors of the cedars which embowered it, and of +the honeysuckle which clustered among the lattices, rendered this +my favorite retreat in summer. + +On this occasion I repaired hither. My spirits drooped through the +fatigue of long attention, and I threw myself upon a bench, in a +state, both mentally and personally, of the utmost supineness. The +lulling sounds of the waterfall, the fragrance, and the dusk, +combined to becalm my spirits, and, in a short time, to sink me +into sleep. Either the uneasiness of my posture, or some slight +indisposition, molested my repose with dreams of no cheerful hue. +After various incoherences had taken their turn to occupy my fancy, +I at length imagined myself walking, in the evening twilight, to my +brother's habitation. A pit, methought, had been dug in the path I +had taken, of which I was not aware. As I carelessly pursued my +walk, I thought I saw my brother standing at some distance before +me, beckoning and calling me to make haste. He stood on the +opposite edge of the gulf. I mended my pace, and one step more +would have plunged me into this abyss, had not some one from behind +caught suddenly my arm, and exclaimed, in a voice of eagerness and +terror, "Hold! hold!" + +The sound broke my sleep, and I found myself, at the next moment, +standing on my feet, and surrounded by the deepest darkness. +Images so terrific and forcible disabled me for a time from +distinguishing between sleep and wakefulness, and withheld from me +the knowledge of my actual condition. My first panic was succeeded +by the perturbations of surprise to find myself alone in the open +air and immersed in so deep a gloom. I slowly recollected the +incidents of the afternoon, and how I came hither. I could not +estimate the time, but saw the propriety of returning with speed to +the house. My faculties were still too confused, and the darkness +too intense, to allow me immediately to find my way up the steep. +I sat down, therefore, to recover myself, and to reflect upon my +situation. + +This was no sooner done, than a low voice was heard from behind the +lattice, on the side where I sat. Between the rock and the lattice +was a chasm not wide enough to admit a human body; yet in this +chasm he that spoke appeared to be stationed. "Attend! attend! but +be not terrified." + +I started, and exclaimed, "Good heavens! what is that? Who are +you?" + +"A friend; one come not to injure but to save you: fear nothing." + +This voice was immediately recognized to be the same with one of +those which I had heard in the closet; it was the voice of him who +had proposed to shoot rather than to strangle his victim. My +terror made me at once mute and motionless. He continued, "I +leagued to murder you. I repent. Mark my bidding, and be safe. +Avoid this spot. The snares of death encompass it. Elsewhere +danger will be distant; but this spot, shun it as you value your +life. Mark me further: profit by this warning, but divulge it not. +If a syllable of what has passed escape you, your doom is sealed. +Remember your father, and be faithful." + +Here the accents ceased, and left me overwhelmed with dismay. I +was fraught with the persuasion that during every moment I remained +here my life was endangered; but I could not take a step without +hazard of falling to the bottom of the precipice. The path leading +to the summit was short, but rugged and intricate. Even starlight +was excluded by the umbrage, and not the faintest gleam was +afforded to guide my steps. What should I do? To depart or remain +was equally and eminently perilous. + +In this state of uncertainty, I perceived a ray flit across the +gloom and disappear. Another succeeded, which was stronger, and +remained for a passing moment. It glittered on the shrubs that +were scattered at the entrance, and gleam continued to succeed +gleam for a few seconds, till they finally gave place to +unintermitted darkness. + +The first visitings of this light called up a train of horrors in +my mind; destruction impended over this spot; the voice which I had +lately heard had warned me to retire, and had menaced me with the +fate of my father if I refused. I was desirous, but unable to +obey; these gleams were such as preluded the stroke by which he +fell; the hour, perhaps, was the same. I shuddered as if I had +beheld suspended over me the exterminating sword. + +Presently a new and stronger illumination burst through the lattice +on the right hand, and a voice from the edge of the precipice above +called out my name. It was Pleyel. Joyfully did I recognize his +accents; but such was the tumult of my thoughts that I had not +power to answer him till he had frequently repeated his summons. I +hurried at length from the fatal spot, and, directed by the lantern +which he bore, ascended the hill. + +Pale and breathless, it was with difficulty I could support myself. +He anxiously inquired into the cause of my affright and the motive +of my unusual absence. He had returned from my brother's at a late +hour, and was informed by Judith that I had walked out before +sunset and had not yet returned. This intelligence was somewhat +alarming. He waited some time; but, my absence continuing, he had +set out in search of me. He had explored the neighborhood with the +utmost care, but, receiving no tidings of me, he was preparing to +acquaint my brother with this circumstance, when he recollected the +summer-house on the bank, and conceived it possible that some +accident had detained me there. He again inquired into the cause +of this detention, and of that confusion and dismay which my looks +testified. + +I told him that I had strolled hither in the afternoon, that sleep +had overtaken me as I sat, and that I had awakened a few minutes +before his arrival. I could tell him no more. In the present +impetuosity of my thoughts, I was almost dubious whether the pit +into which my brother had endeavored to entice me, and the voice +that talked through the lattice, were not parts of the same dream. +I remembered, likewise, the charge of secrecy, and the penalty +denounced if I should rashly divulge what I had heard. For these +reasons I was silent on that subject, and, shutting myself in my +chamber, delivered myself up to contemplation. + +What I have related will, no doubt, appear to you a fable. You +will believe that calamity has subverted my reason, and that I am +amusing you with the chimeras of my brain instead of facts that +have really happened. I shall not be surprised or offended if +these be your suspicions. I know not, indeed, how you can deny +them admission. For, if to me, the immediate witness, they were +fertile of perplexity and doubt, how must they affect another to +whom they are recommended only by my testimony? It was only by +subsequent events that I was fully and incontestably assured of the +veracity of my senses. + +Meanwhile, what was I to think? I had been assured that a design +had been formed against my life. The ruffians had leagued to +murder me. Whom had I offended? Who was there, with whom I had +ever maintained intercourse, who was capable of harboring such +atrocious purposes? + +My temper was the reverse of cruel and imperious. My heart was +touched with sympathy for the children of misfortune. But this +sympathy was not a barren sentiment. My purse, scanty as it was, +was ever open, and my hands ever active, to relieve distress. Many +were the wretches whom my personal exertions had extricated from +want and disease, and who rewarded me with their gratitude. There +was no face which lowered at my approach, and no lips which uttered +imprecations in my hearing. On the contrary, there was none, over +whose fate I had exerted any influence or to whom I was known by +reputation, who did not greet me with smiles and dismiss me with +proofs of veneration: yet did not my senses assure me that a plot +was laid against my life? + +I am not destitute of courage. I have shown myself deliberative +and calm in the midst of peril. I have hazarded my own life for +the preservation of another; but now was I confused and panic- +struck. I have not lived so as to fear death; yet to perish by an +unseen and secret stroke, to be mangled by the knife of an +assassin, was a thought at which I shuddered: what had I done to +deserve to be made the victim of malignant passions? + +But soft! was I not assured that my life was safe in all places but +one? And why was the treason limited to take effect in this spot? +I was everywhere equally defenseless. My house and chamber were at +all times accessible. Danger still impended over me; the bloody +purpose was still entertained, but the hand that was to execute it +was powerless in all places but one! + +Here I had remained for the last four or five hours, without the +means of resistance or defense; yet I had not been attacked. A +human being was at hand, who was conscious of my presence, and +warned me hereafter to avoid this retreat. His voice was not +absolutely new, but had I never heard it but once before? But why +did he prohibit me from relating this incident to others, and what +species of death will be awarded if I disobey? + +Such were the reflections that haunted me during the night, and +which effectually deprived me of sleep. Next morning, at +breakfast, Pleyel related an event which my disappearance had +hindered him from mentioning the night before. Early the preceding +morning, his occasions called him to the city: he had stepped into +a coffee-house to while away an hour; here he had met a person +whose appearance instantly bespoke him to be the same whose hasty +visit I have mentioned, and whose extraordinary visage and tones +had so powerfully affected me. On an attentive survey, however, he +proved, likewise, to be one with whom my friend had had some +intercourse in Europe. This authorized the liberty of accosting +him, and after some conversation, mindful, as Pleyel said, of the +footing which this stranger had gained in my heart, he had ventured +to invite him to Mettingen. The invitation had been cheerfully +accepted, and a visit promised on the afternoon of the next day. + +This information excited no sober emotions in my breast. I was, of +course, eager to be informed as to the circumstances of their +ancient intercourse. When and where had they met? What knew he of +the life and character of this man? + +In answer to my inquiries, he informed me that, three years before, +he was a traveler in Spain. He had made an excursion from Valencia +to Murviedro, with a view to inspect the remains of Roman +magnificence scattered in the environs of that town. While +traversing the site of the theater of old Saguntum, he alighted +upon this man, seated on a stone, and deeply engaged in perusing +the work of the deacon Marti. A short conversation ensued, which +proved the stranger to be English. They returned to Valencia +together. + +His garb, aspect, and deportment were wholly Spanish. A residence +of three years in the country, indefatigable attention to the +language, and a studious conformity with the customs of the people, +had made him indistinguishable from a native when he chose to +assume that character. Pleyel found him to be connected, on the +footing of friendship and respect, with many eminent merchants in +that city. He had embraced the Catholic religion, and adopted a +Spanish name instead of his own, which was CARWIN, and devoted +himself to the literature and religion of his new country. He +pursued no profession, but subsisted on remittances from England. + +While Pleyel remained in Valencia, Carwin betrayed no aversion to +intercourse, and the former found no small attractions in the +society of this new acquaintance, On general topics he was highly +intelligent and communicative. He had visited every corner of +Spain, and could furnish the most accurate details respecting its +ancient and present state. On topics of religion and of his own +history, previous to his TRANSFORMATION into a Spaniard, he was +invariably silent. You could merely gather from his discourse that +he was English, and that he was well acquainted with the +neighboring countries. + +His character excited considerable curiosity in the observer. It +was not easy to reconcile his conversion to the Romish faith with +those proofs of knowledge and capacity that were exhibited by him +on different occasions. A suspicion was sometimes admitted that +his belief was counterfeited for some political purpose. The most +careful observation, however, produced no discovery. His manners +were at all times harmless and inartificial, and his habits those +of a lover of contemplation and seclusion. He appeared to have +contracted an affection for Pleyel, who was not slow to return it. + +My friend, after a month's residence in this city, returned into +France, and, since that period, had heard nothing concerning Carwin +till his appearance at Mettingen. + +On this occasion Carwin had received Pleyel's greeting with a +certain distance and solemnity to which the latter had not been +accustomed. He had waived noticing the inquiries of Pleyel +respecting his desertion of Spain, in which he had formerly +declared that it was his purpose to spend his life. He had +assiduously diverted the attention of the latter to indifferent +topics, but was still, on every theme, as eloquent and judicious as +formerly. Why he had assumed the garb of a rustic Pleyel was +unable to conjecture. Perhaps it might be poverty; perhaps he was +swayed by motives which it was his interest to conceal, but which +were connected with consequences of the utmost moment. + +Such was the sum of my friend's information. I was not sorry to be +left alone during the greater part of this day. Every employment +was irksome which did not leave me at liberty to meditate. I had +now a new subject on which to exercise my thoughts. Before evening +I should be ushered into his presence, and listen to those tones +whose magical and thrilling power I had already experienced. But +with what new images would he then be accompanied? + +Carwin was an adherent to the Romish faith, yet was an Englishman +by birth, and, perhaps, a Protestant by education. He had adopted +Spain for his country, and had intimated a design to spend his days +there, yet now was an inhabitant of this district, and disguised by +the habiliments of a clown! What could have obliterated the +impressions of his youth and made him abjure his religion and his +country? What subsequent events had introduced so total a change +in his plans? In withdrawing from Spain, had he reverted to the +religion of his ancestors? or was it true that his former +conversion was deceitful, and that his conduct had been swayed by +motives which it was prudent to conceal? + +Hours were consumed in revolving these ideas. My meditations were +intense; and, when the series was broken, I began to reflect with +astonishment on my situation. From the death of my parents till +the commencement of this year my life had been serene and blissful +beyond the ordinary portion of humanity; but now my bosom was +corroded by anxiety. I was visited by dread of unknown dangers, +and the future was a scene over which clouds rolled and thunders +muttered. I compared the cause with the effect, and they seemed +disproportioned to each other. All unaware, and in a manner which +I had no power to explain, I was pushed from my immovable and lofty +station and cast upon a sea of troubles. + +I determined to be my brother's visitant on this evening; yet my +resolves were not unattended with wavering and reluctance. +Pleyel's insinuations that I was in love affected in no degree my +belief; yet the consciousness that this was the opinion of one who +would probably be present at our introduction to each other would +excite all that confusion which the passion itself is apt to +produce. This would confirm him in his error and call forth new +railleries. His mirth, when exerted upon this topic, was the +source of the bitterest vexation. Had he been aware of its +influence upon my happiness, his temper would not have allowed him +to persist; but this influence it was my chief endeavor to conceal. +That the belief of my having bestowed my heart upon another +produced in my friend none but ludicrous sensations was the true +cause of my distress; but if this had been discovered by him my +distress would have been unspeakably aggravated. + + +III + + +As soon as evening arrived, I performed my visit. Carwin made one +of the company into which I was ushered. Appearances were the same +as when I before beheld him. His garb was equally negligent and +rustic. I gazed upon his countenance with new curiosity. My +situation was such as to enable me to bestow upon it a deliberate +examination. Viewed at more leisure, it lost none of its wonderful +properties. I could not deny my homage to the intelligence +expressed in it, but was wholly uncertain whether he were an object +to be dreaded or adored, and whether his powers had been exerted to +evil or to good. + +He was sparing in discourse; but whatever he said was pregnant with +meaning, and uttered with rectitude of articulation and force of +emphasis of which I had entertained no conception previously to my +knowledge of him. Notwithstanding the uncouthness of his garb, his +manners were not unpolished. All topics were handled by him with +skill, and without pedantry or affectation. He uttered no +sentiment calculated to produce a disadvantageous impression; on +the contrary, his observations denoted a mind alive to every +generous and heroic feeling. They were introduced without parade, +and accompanied with that degree of earnestness which indicates +sincerity. + +He parted from us not till late, refusing an invitation to spend +the night here, but readily consented to repeat his visit. His +visits were frequently repeated. Each day introduced us to a more +intimate acquaintance with his sentiments, but left us wholly in +the dark concerning that about which we were most inquisitive. He +studiously avoided all mention of his past or present situation. +Even the place of his abode in the city he concealed from us. + +Our sphere in this respect being somewhat limited, and the +intellectual endowments of this man being indisputably great, his +deportment was more diligently marked and copiously commented on by +us than you, perhaps, will think the circumstances warranted. Not +a gesture, or glance, or accent, that was not, in our private +assemblies, discussed, and inferences deduced from it. It may well +be thought that he modeled his behavior by an uncommon standard, +when, with all our opportunities and accuracy of observation, we +were able for a long time to gather no satisfactory information. +He afforded us no ground on which to build even a plausible +conjecture. + +There is a degree of familiarity which takes place between constant +associates, that justifies the negligence of many rules of which, +in an earlier period of their intercourse, politeness requires the +exact observance. Inquiries into our condition are allowable when +they are prompted by a disinterested concern for our welfare; and +this solicitude is not only pardonable, but may justly be demanded +from those who choose us for their companions. This state of +things was more slow to arrive at on this occasion than on most +others, on account of the gravity and loftiness of this man's +behavior. + +Pleyel, however, began at length to employ regular means for this +end. He occasionally alluded to the circumstances in which they +had formerly met, and remarked the incongruousness between the +religion and habits of a Spaniard with those of a native of +Britain. He expressed his astonishment at meeting our guest in +this corner of the globe, especially as, when they parted in Spain, +he was taught to believe that Carwin should never leave that +country. He insinuated that a change so great must have been +prompted by motives of a singular and momentous kind. + +No answer, or an answer wide of the purpose, was generally made to +these insinuations. Britons and Spaniards, he said, are votaries +of the same Deity, and square their faith by the same precepts; +their ideas are drawn from the same fountains of literature, and +they speak dialects of the same tongue; their government and laws +have more resemblances than differences; they were formerly +provinces of the same civil, and, till lately, of the same +religious, empire. + +As to the motives which induce men to change the place of their +abode, these must unavoidably be fleeting and mutable. If not +bound to one spot by conjugal or parental ties, or by the nature of +that employment to which we are indebted for subsistence, the +inducements to change are far more numerous and powerful than +opposite inducements. + +He spoke as if desirous of showing that he was not aware of the +tendency of Pleyel's remarks; yet certain tokens were apparent that +proved him by no means wanting in penetration. These tokens were +to be read in his countenance, and not in his words. When anything +was said indicating curiosity in us, the gloom of his countenance +was deepened, his eyes sunk to the ground, and his wonted air was +not resumed without visible struggle. Hence, it was obvious to +infer that some incidents of his life were reflected on by him with +regret; and that, since these incidents were carefully concealed, +and even that regret which flowed from them laboriously stifled, +they had not been merely disastrous. The secrecy that was observed +appeared not designed to provoke or baffle the inquisitive, but was +prompted by the shame or by the prudence of guilt. + +These ideas, which were adopted by Pleyel and my brother as well as +myself, hindered us from employing more direct means for +accomplishing our wishes. Questions might have been put in such +terms that no room should be left for the pretense of misapprehension; +and, if modesty merely had been the obstacle, such questions would +not have been wanting; but we considered that, if the disclosure +were productive of pain or disgrace, it was inhuman to extort it. + +Amidst the various topics that were discussed in his presence, +allusions were, of course, made to the inexplicable events that had +lately happened. At those times the words and looks of this man +were objects of my particular attention. The subject was +extraordinary; and anyone whose experience or reflections could +throw any light upon it was entitled to my gratitude. As this man +was enlightened by reading and travel, I listened with eagerness to +the remarks which he should make. + +At first I entertained a kind of apprehension that the tale would +be heard by him with incredulity and secret ridicule. I had +formerly heard stories that resembled this in some of their +mysterious circumstances; but they were commonly heard by me with +contempt. I was doubtful whether the same impression would not now +be made on the mind of our guest; but I was mistaken in my fears. + +He heard them with seriousness, and without any marks either of +surprise or incredulity. He pursued with visible pleasure that +kind of disquisition which was naturally suggested by them. His +fancy was eminently vigorous and prolific; and, if he did not +persuade us that human beings are sometimes admitted to a sensible +intercourse with the Author of nature, he at least won over our +inclination to the cause. He merely deduced, from his own +reasonings, that such intercourse was probable, but confessed that, +though he was acquainted with many instances somewhat similar to +those which had been related by us, none of them were perfectly +exempted from the suspicion of human agency. + +On being requested to relate these instances, he amused us with +many curious details. His narratives were constructed with so much +skill, and rehearsed with so much energy, that all the effects of a +dramatic exhibition were frequently produced by them. Those that +were most coherent and most minute, and, of consequence, least +entitled to credit, were yet rendered probable by the exquisite art +of this rhetorician. For every difficulty that was suggested a +ready and plausible solution was furnished. Mysterious voices had +always a share in producing the catastrophe; but they were always +to be explained on some known principles, either as reflected into +a focus or communicated through a tube. I could not but remark +that his narratives, however complex or marvelous, contained no +instance sufficiently parallel to those that had befallen +ourselves, and in which the solution was applicable to our own +case. + +My brother was a much more sanguine reasoner than our guest. Even +in some of the facts which were related by Carwin, he maintained +the probability of celestial interference, when the latter was +disposed to deny it, and had found, as he imagined, footsteps of a +human agent. Pleyel was by no means equally credulous. He +scrupled not to deny faith to any testimony but that of his senses, +and allowed the facts which had lately been supported by this +testimony not to mold his belief, but merely to give birth to +doubts. + +It was soon observed that Carwin adopted, in some degree, a similar +distinction. A tale of this kind, related by others, he would +believe, provided it was explicable upon known principles; but that +such notices were actually communicated by beings of a higher order +he would believe only when his own ears were assailed in a manner +which could not be otherwise accounted for. Civility forbade him +to contradict my brother or myself, but his understanding refused +to acquiesce in our testimony. Besides, he was disposed to +question whether the voices were not really uttered by human +organs. On this supposition he was desired to explain how the +effect was produced. + +He answered that the cry for help, heard in the hall on the night +of my adventure, was to be ascribed to a human creature, who +actually stood in the hall when he uttered it. It was of no +moment, he said, that we could not explain by what motives he that +made the signal was led hither. How imperfectly acquainted were we +with the condition and designs of the beings that surrounded us! +The city was near at hand, and thousands might there exist whose +powers and purposes might easily explain whatever was mysterious in +this transaction. As to the closet dialogue, he was obliged to +adopt one of two suppositions, and affirm either that it was +fashioned in my own fancy, or that it actually took place between +two persons in the closet. + +Such was Carwin's mode of explaining these appearances. It is +such, perhaps, as would commend itself as most plausible to the +most sagacious minds; but it was insufficient to impart conviction +to us. As to the treason that was meditated against me, it was +doubtless just to conclude that it was either real or imaginary; +but that it was real was attested by the mysterious warning in the +summer-house, the secret of which I had hitherto locked up in my +own breast. + +A month passed away in this kind of intercourse. As to Carwin, our +ignorance was in no degree enlightened respecting his genuine +character and views. Appearances were uniform. No man possessed a +larger store of knowledge, or a greater degree of skill in the +communication of it to others; hence he was regarded as an +inestimable addition to our society. Considering the distance of +my brother's house from the city, he was frequently prevailed upon +to pass the night where he spent the evening. Two days seldom +elapsed without a visit from him; hence he was regarded as a kind +of inmate of the house. He entered and departed without ceremony. +When he arrived he received an unaffected welcome, and when he +chose to retire no importunities were used to induce him to remain. + +Carwin never parted with his gravity. The inscrutableness of his +character, and the uncertainty whether his fellowship tended to +good or to evil, were seldom absent from our minds. This +circumstance powerfully contributed to sadden us. + +My heart was the seat of growing disquietudes. This change in one +who had formerly been characterized by all the exuberances of soul +could not fail to be remarked by my friends. My brother was always +a pattern of solemnity. My sister was clay, molded by the +circumstances in which she happened to be placed. There was but +one whose deportment remains to be described as being of importance +to our happiness. Had Pleyel likewise dismissed his vivacity? + +He was as whimsical and jestful as ever, but he was not happy. The +truth in this respect was of too much importance to me not to make +me a vigilant observer. His mirth was easily perceived to be the +fruit of exertion. When his thoughts wandered from the company, an +air of dissatisfaction and impatience stole across his features. +Even the punctuality and frequency of his visits were somewhat +lessened. It may be supposed that my own uneasiness was heightened +by these tokens; but, strange as it may seem, I found, in the +present state of my mind, no relief but in the persuasion that +Pleyel was unhappy. + +That unhappiness, indeed, depended for its value in my eyes on the +cause that produced it. There was but one source whence it could +flow. A nameless ecstasy thrilled through my frame when any new +proof occurred that the ambiguousness of my behavior was the cause. + + +IV + + +My brother had received a new book from Germany. It was a tragedy, +and the first attempt of a Saxon poet of whom my brother had been +taught to entertain the highest expectations. The exploits of +Zisca, the Bohemian hero, were woven into a dramatic series and +connection. According to German custom, it was minute and diffuse, +and dictated by an adventurous and lawless fancy. It was a chain +of audacious acts and unheard-of disasters. The moated fortress +and the thicket, the ambush and the battle, and the conflict of +headlong passions, were portrayed in wild numbers and with terrific +energy. An afternoon was set apart to rehearse this performance. +The language was familiar to all of us but Carwin, whose company, +therefore, was tacitly dispensed with. + +The morning previous to this intended rehearsal I spent at home. +My mind was occupied with reflections relative to my own situation. +The sentiment which lived with chief energy in my heart was +connected with the image of Pleyel. In the midst of my anguish, I +had not been destitute of consolation. His late deportment had +given spring to my hopes. Was not the hour at hand which should +render me the happiest of human creatures? He suspected that I +looked with favorable eyes upon Carwin. Hence arose disquietudes +which he struggled in vain to conceal. He loved me, but was +hopeless that his love would be compensated. Is it not time, said +I, to rectify this error? But by what means is this to be +effected? It can only be done by a change of deportment in me; but +how must I demean myself for this purpose? + +I must not speak. Neither eyes nor lips must impart the +information. He must not be assured that my heart is his, previous +to the tender of his own; but he must be convinced that it has not +been given to another; he must be supplied with space whereon to +build a doubt as to the true state of my affections; he must be +prompted to avow himself. The line of delicate propriety,--how +hard it is not to fall short, and not to overleap it! + +This afternoon we shall meet. . . . We shall not separate till +late. It will be his province to accompany me home. The airy +expanse is without a speck. This breeze is usually steadfast, and +its promise of a bland and cloudless evening may be trusted. The +moon will rise at eleven, and at that hour we shall wind along this +bank. Possibly that hour may decide my fate. If suitable +encouragement be given, Pleyel will reveal his soul to me; and I, +ere I reach this threshold, will be made the happiest of beings. + +And is this good to be mine? Add wings to thy speed, sweet +evening; and thou, moon, I charge thee, shroud thy beams at the +moment when my Pleyel whispers love. I would not for the world +that the burning blushes and the mounting raptures of that moment +should be visible. + +But what encouragement is wanting? I must be regardful of +insurmountable limits. Yet, when minds are imbued with a genuine +sympathy, are not words and looks superfluous? Are not motion and +touch sufficient to impart feelings such as mine? Has he not eyed +me at moments when the pressure of his hand has thrown me into +tumults, and was it impossible that he mistook the impetuosities of +love for the eloquence of indignation? + +But the hastening evening will decide. Would it were come! And +yet I shudder at its near approach. An interview that must thus +terminate is surely to be wished for by me; and yet it is not +without its terrors. Would to heaven it were come and gone! + +I feel no reluctance, my friends, to be thus explicit. Time was, +when these emotions would be hidden with immeasurable solicitude +from every human eye. Alas! these airy and fleeting impulses of +shame are gone. My scruples were preposterous and criminal. They +are bred in all hearts by a perverse and vicious education, and +they would still have maintained their place in my heart, had not +my portion been set in misery. My errors have taught me thus much +wisdom:--that those sentiments which we ought not to disclose it is +criminal to harbor. + +It was proposed to begin the rehearsal at four o'clock. I counted +the minutes as they passed; their flight was at once too rapid and +too slow: my sensations were of an excruciating kind; I could taste +no food, nor apply to any task, nor enjoy a moment's repose; when +the hour arrived I hastened to my brother's. + +Pleyel was not there. He had not yet come. On ordinary occasions +he was eminent for punctuality. He had testified great eagerness +to share in the pleasures of this rehearsal. He was to divide the +task with my brother, and in tasks like these he always engaged +with peculiar zeal. His elocution was less sweet than sonorous, +and, therefore, better adapted than the mellifluences of his friend +to the outrageous vehemence of this drama. + +What could detain him? Perhaps he lingered through forgetfulness. +Yet this was incredible. Never had his memory been known to fail +upon even more trivial occasions. Not less impossible was it that +the scheme had lost its attractions, and that he stayed because his +coming would afford him no gratification. But why should we expect +him to adhere to the minute? + +A half-hour elapsed, but Pleyel was still at a distance. Perhaps +he had misunderstood the hour which had been proposed. Perhaps he +had conceived that to-morrow, and not to-day, had been selected for +this purpose; but no. A review of preceding circumstances +demonstrated that such misapprehension was impossible; for he had +himself proposed this day, and this hour. This day his attention +would not otherwise be occupied; but to-morrow an indispensable +engagement was foreseen, by which all his time would be engrossed; +his detention, therefore, must be owing to some unforeseen and +extraordinary event. Our conjectures were vague, tumultuous, and +sometimes fearful. His sickness and his death might possibly have +detained him. + +Tortured with suspense, we sat gazing at each other, and at the +path which led from the road. Every horseman that passed was, for +a moment, imagined to be him. Hour succeeded hour, and the sun, +gradually declining, at length disappeared. Every signal of his +coming proved fallacious, and our hopes were at length dismissed. +His absence affected my friends in no insupportable degree. They +should be obliged, they said, to defer this undertaking till the +morrow; and perhaps their impatient curiosity would compel them to +dispense entirely with his presence. No doubt some harmless +occurrence had diverted him from his purpose; and they trusted that +they should receive a satisfactory account of him in the morning. + +It may be supposed that this disappointment affected me in a very +different manner. I turned aside my head to conceal my tears. I +fled into solitude, to give vent to my reproaches without +interruption or restraint. My heart was ready to burst with +indignation and grief. Pleyel was not the only object of my keen +but unjust upbraiding. Deeply did I execrate my own folly. Thus +fallen into ruins was the gay fabric which I had reared! Thus had +my golden vision melted into air! + +How fondly did I dream that Pleyel was a lover! If he were, would +he have suffered any obstacle to hinder his coming? "Blind and +infatuated man!" I exclaimed. "Thou sportest with happiness. The +good that is offered thee thou hast the insolence and folly to +refuse. Well, I will henceforth intrust my felicity to no one's +keeping but my own." + +The first agonies of this disappointment would not allow me to be +reasonable or just. Every ground on which I had built the +persuasion that Pleyel was not unimpressed in my favor appeared to +vanish. It seemed as if I had been misled into this opinion by the +most palpable illusions. + +I made some trifling excuse, and returned, much earlier than I +expected, to my own house. I retired early to my chamber, without +designing to sleep. I placed myself at a window, and gave the +reins to reflection. + +The hateful and degrading impulses which had lately controlled me +were, in some degree, removed. New dejection succeeded, but was +now produced by contemplating my late behavior. Surely that +passion is worthy to be abhorred which obscures our understanding +and urges us to the commission of injustice. What right had I to +expect his attendance? Had I not demeaned myself like one +indifferent to his happiness, and as having bestowed my regards +upon another? His absence might be prompted by the love which I +considered his absence as a proof that he wanted. He came not +because the sight of me, the spectacle of my coldness or aversion, +contributed to his despair. Why should I prolong, by hypocrisy or +silence, his misery as well as my own? Why not deal with him +explicitly, and assure him of the truth? + +You will hardly believe that, in obedience to this suggestion, I +rose for the purpose of ordering a light, that I might instantly +make this confession in a letter. A second thought showed me the +rashness of this scheme, and I wondered by what infirmity of mind I +could be betrayed into a momentary approbation of it. I saw with +the utmost clearness that a confession like that would be the most +remediless and unpardonable outrage upon the dignity of my sex, and +utterly unworthy of that passion which controlled me. + +I resumed my seat and my musing. To account for the absence of +Pleyel became once more the scope of my conjectures. How many +incidents might occur to raise an insuperable impediment in his +way! When I was a child, a scheme of pleasure, in which he and his +sister were parties, had been in like manner frustrated by his +absence; but his absence, in that instance, had been occasioned by +his falling from a boat into the river, in consequence of which he +had run the most imminent hazard of being drowned. Here was a +second disappointment endured by the same persons, and produced by +his failure. Might it not originate in the same cause? Had he not +designed to cross the river that morning to make some necessary +purchases in New Jersey? He had preconcerted to return to his own +house to dinner but perhaps some disaster had befallen him. +Experience had taught me the insecurity of a canoe, and that was +the only kind of boat which Pleyel used; I was, likewise, actuated +by an hereditary dread of water. These circumstances combined to +bestow considerable plausibility on this conjecture; but the +consternation with which I began to be seized was allayed by +reflecting that, if this disaster had happened, my brother would +have received the speediest information of it. The consolation +which this idea imparted was ravished from me by a new thought. +This disaster might have happened, and his family not be apprised +of it. The first intelligence of his fate may be communicated by +the livid corpse which the tide may cast, many days hence, upon the +shore. + +Thus was I distressed by opposite conjectures; thus was I tormented +by phantoms of my own creation. It was not always thus. I can +ascertain the date when my mind became the victim of this +imbecility; perhaps it was coeval with the inroad of a fatal +passion,--a passion that will never rank me in the number of its +eulogists; it was alone sufficient to the extermination of my +peace; it was itself a plenteous source of calamity, and needed not +the concurrence of other evils to take away the attractions of +existence and dig for me an untimely grave. + +The state of my mind naturally introduced a train of reflections +upon the dangers and cares which inevitably beset a human being. +By no violent transition was I led to ponder on the turbulent life +and mysterious end of my father. I cherished with the utmost +veneration the memory of this man, and every relic connected with +his fate was preserved with the most scrupulous care. Among these +was to be numbered a manuscript containing memoirs of his own life. +The narrative was by no means recommended by its eloquence; but +neither did all its value flow from my relationship to the author. +Its style had an unaffected and picturesque simplicity. The great +variety and circumstantial display of the incidents, together with +their intrinsic importance as descriptive of human manners and +passions, made it the most useful book in my collection. It was +late: but, being sensible of no inclination to sleep, I resolved to +betake myself to the perusal of it. + +To do this, it was requisite to procure a light. The girl had long +since retired to her chamber: it was therefore proper to wait upon +myself. A lamp, and the means of lighting it, were only to be +found in the kitchen. Thither I resolved forthwith to repair; but +the light was of use merely to enable me to read the book. I knew +the shelf and the spot where it stood. Whether I took down the +book, or prepared the lamp in the first place, appeared to be a +matter of no moment. The latter was preferred, and, leaving my +seat, I approached the closet in which, as I mentioned formerly, my +books and papers were deposited. + +Suddenly the remembrance of what had lately passed in this closet +occurred. Whether midnight was approaching, or had passed, I knew +not. I was, as then, alone and defenseless. The wind was in that +direction in which, aided by the deathlike repose of nature, it +brought to me the murmur of the waterfall. This was mingled with +that solemn and enchanting sound which a breeze produces among the +leaves of pines. The words of that mysterious dialogue, their +fearful import, and the wild excess to which I was transported by +my terrors, filled my imagination anew. My steps faltered, and I +stood a moment to recover myself. + +I prevailed on myself at length to move toward the closet. I +touched the lock, but my fingers were powerless; I was visited +afresh by unconquerable apprehensions. A sort of belief darted +into my mind that some being was concealed within whose purposes +were evil. I began to contend with those fears, when it occurred +to me that I might, without impropriety, go for a lamp previously +to opening the closet. I receded a few steps; but before I reached +the chamber door my thoughts took a new direction. Motion seemed +to produce a mechanical influence upon me. I was ashamed of my +weakness. Besides, what aid could be afforded me by a lamp? + +My fears had pictured to themselves no precise object. It would be +difficult to depict in words the ingredients and hues of that +phantom which haunted me. A hand invisible and of preternatural +strength, lifted by human passions, and selecting my life for its +aim, were parts of this terrific image. All places were alike +accessible to this foe; or, if his empire were restricted by local +bounds, those bounds were utterly inscrutable by me. But had I not +been told, by some one in league with this enemy, that every place +but the recess in the bank was exempt from danger? + +I returned to the closet, and once more put my hand upon the lock. +Oh, may my ears lose their sensibility ere they be again assailed +by a shriek so terrible! Not merely my understanding was subdued +by the sound; it acted on my nerves like an edge of steel. It +appeared to cut asunder the fibers of my brain and rack every joint +with agony. + +The cry, loud and piercing as it was, was nevertheless human. No +articulation was ever more distinct. The breath which accompanied +it did not fan my hair, yet did every circumstance combine to +persuade me that the lips which uttered it touched my very +shoulder. + +"Hold! hold!" were the words of this tremendous prohibition, in +whose tone the whole soul seemed to be wrapped up, and every energy +converted into eagerness and terror. + +Shuddering, I dashed myself against the wall, and, by the same +involuntary impulse, turned my face backward to examine the +mysterious monitor. The moonlight streamed into each window, and +every corner of the room was conspicuous, and yet I beheld nothing! + +The interval was too brief to be artificially measured, between the +utterance of these words and my scrutiny directed to the quarter +whence they came. Yet, if a human being had been there, could he +fail to have been visible? Which of my senses was the prey of a +fatal illusion? The shock which the sound produced was still felt +in every part of my frame. The sound, therefore, could not but be +a genuine commotion. But that I had heard it was not more true +than that the being who uttered it was stationed at my right ear; +yet my attendant was invisible. + +I cannot describe the state of my thoughts at that moment. +Surprise had mastered my faculties. My frame shook, and the vital +current was congealed. I was conscious only of the vehemence of my +sensations. This condition could not be lasting. Like a tide, +which suddenly mounts to an overwhelming height and then gradually +subsides, my confusion slowly gave place to order, and my tumults +to a calm. I was able to deliberate and move. I resumed my feet, +and advanced into the midst of the room. Upward, and behind, and +on each side, I threw penetrating glances. I was not satisfied +with one examination. He that hitherto refused to be seen might +change his purpose, and on the next survey be clearly +distinguishable. + +Solitude imposes least restraint upon the fancy. Dark is less +fertile of images than the feeble luster of the moon. I was alone, +and the walls were checkered by shadowy forms. As the moon passed +behind a cloud and emerged, these shadows seemed to be endowed with +life, and to move. The apartment was open to the breeze, and the +curtain was occasionally blown from its ordinary position. This +motion was not unaccompanied with sound. I failed not to snatch a +look and to listen when this motion and this sound occurred. My +belief that my monitor was posted near was strong, and instantly +converted these appearances to tokens of his presence; and yet I +could discern nothing. + +When my thoughts were at length permitted to revert to the past, +the first idea that occurred was the resemblance between the words +of the voice which I had just heard and those which had terminated +my dream in the summer-house. There are means by which we are able +to distinguish a substance from a shadow, a reality from the +phantom of a dream. The pit, my brother beckoning me forward, the +seizure of my arm, and the voice behind, were surely imaginary. +That these incidents were fashioned in my sleep is supported by the +same indubitable evidence that compels me to believe myself awake +at present; yet the words and the voice were the same. Then, by +some inexplicable contrivance, I was aware of the danger, while my +actions and sensations were those of one wholly unacquainted with +it. Now, was it not equally true that my actions and persuasions +were at war? Had not the belief that evil lurked in the closet +gained admittance, and had not my actions betokened an +unwarrantable security? To obviate the effects of my infatuation, +the same means had been used. + +In my dream, he that tempted me to my destruction was my brother. +Death was ambushed in my path. From what evil was I now rescued? +What minister or implement of ill was shut up in this recess? Who +was it whose suffocating grasp I was to feel should I dare to enter +it? What monstrous conception is this? My brother? + +No; protection, and not injury, is his province. Strange and +terrible chimera! Yet it would not be suddenly dismissed. It was +surely no vulgar agency that gave this form to my fears. He to +whom all parts of time are equally present, whom no contingency +approaches, was the author of that spell which now seized upon me. +Life was dear to me. No consideration was present that enjoined me +to relinquish it. Sacred duty combined with every spontaneous +sentiment to endear to me my being. Should I not shudder when my +being was endangered? But what emotion should possess me when the +arm lifted against me was Wieland's? + +Ideas exist in our minds that can be accounted for by no +established laws. Why did I dream that my brother was my foe? Why +but because an omen of my fate was ordained to be communicated? +Yet what salutary end did it serve? Did it arm me with caution to +elude or fortitude to bear the evils to which I was reserved? My +present thoughts were, no doubt, indebted for their hue to the +similitude existing between these incidents and those of my dream. +Surely it was frenzy that dictated my deed. That a ruffian was +hidden in the closet was an idea the genuine tendency of which was +to urge me to flight. Such had been the effect formerly produced. +Had my mind been simply occupied with this thought at present, no +doubt the same impulse would have been experienced; but now it was +my brother whom I was irresistibly persuaded to regard as the +contriver of that ill of which I had been forewarned. This +persuasion did not extenuate my fears or my danger. Why then did I +again approach the closet and withdraw the bolt? My resolution was +instantly conceived, and executed without faltering. + +The door was formed of light materials. The lock, of simple +structure, easily forewent its hold. It opened into the room, and +commonly moved upon its hinges, after being unfastened, without any +effort of mine. This effort, however, was bestowed upon the +present occasion. It was my purpose to open it with quickness; but +the exertion which I made was ineffectual. It refused to open. + +At another time, this circumstance would not have looked with a +face of mystery. I should have supposed some casual obstruction +and repeated my efforts to surmount it. But now my mind was +accessible to no conjecture but one. The door was hindered from +opening by human force. Surely, here was a new cause for affright. +This was confirmation proper to decide my conduct. Now was all +ground of hesitation taken away. What could be supposed but that I +deserted the chamber and the house? that I at least endeavored no +longer to withdraw the door? + +Have I not said that my actions were dictated by frenzy? My reason +had forborne, for a time, to suggest or to sway my resolves. I +reiterated my endeavors. I exerted all my force to overcome the +obstacle, but in vain. The strength that was exerted to keep it +shut was superior to mine. + +A casual observer might, perhaps, applaud the audaciousness of this +conduct. Whence, but from a habitual defiance of danger, could my +perseverance arise? I have already assigned, as distinctly as I am +able, the cause of it. The frantic conception that my brother was +within, that the resistance made to my design was exerted by him, +had rooted itself in my mind. You will comprehend the height of +this infatuation, when I tell you that, finding all my exertions +vain, I betook myself to exclamations. Surely I was utterly bereft +of understanding. + +Now I had arrived at the crisis of my fate. "Oh, hinder not the +door to open," I exclaimed, in a tone that had less of fear than of +grief in it. "I know you well. Come forth, but harm me not. I +beseech you, come forth." + +I had taken my hand from the lock and removed to a small distance +from the door. I had scarcely uttered these words, when the door +swung upon its hinges and displayed to my view the interior of the +closet. Whoever was within was shrouded in darkness. A few +seconds passed without interruption of the silence. I knew not +what to expect or to fear. My eyes would not stray from the +recess. Presently, a deep sigh was heard. The quarter from which +it came heightened the eagerness of my gaze. Some one approached +from the farther end. I quickly perceived the outlines of a human +figure. Its steps were irresolute and slow. I recoiled as it +advanced. + +By coming at length within the verge of the room, his form was +clearly distinguishable. I had prefigured to myself a very +different personage. The face that presented itself was the last +that I should desire to meet at an hour and in a place like this. +My wonder was stifled by my fears. Assassins had lurked in this +recess. Some divine voice warned me of danger that at this moment +awaited me. I had spurned the intimation, and challenged my +adversary. + +I recalled the mysterious countenance and dubious character of +Carwin. What motive but atrocious ones could guide his steps +hither? I was alone. My habit suited the hour, and the place, and +the warmth of the season. All succor was remote. He had placed +himself between me and the door. My frame shook with the vehemence +of my apprehensions. + +Yet I was not wholly lost to myself; I vigilantly marked his +demeanor. His looks were grave, but not without perturbation. +What species of inquietude it betrayed the light was not strong +enough to enable me to discover. He stood still; but his eyes +wandered from one object to another. When these powerful organs +were fixed upon me, I shrunk into myself. At length he broke +silence. Earnestness, and not embarrassment, was in his tone. He +advanced close to me while he spoke:-- + +"What voice was that which lately addressed you?" + +He paused for an answer; but, observing my trepidation, he resumed, +with undiminished solemnity, "Be not terrified. Whoever he was, he +has done you an important service. I need not ask you if it were +the voice of a companion. That sound was beyond the compass of +human organs. The knowledge that enabled him to tell you who was +in the closet was obtained by incomprehensible means. + +"You knew that Carwin was there. Were you not apprised of his +intents? The same power could impart the one as well as the other. +Yet, knowing these, you persisted. Audacious girl! But perhaps +you confided in his guardianship. Your confidence was just. With +succor like this at hand you may safely defy me. + +"He is my eternal foe; the baffler of my best-concerted schemes. +Twice have you been saved by his accursed interposition. But for +him I should long ere now have borne away the spoils of your +honor." + +He looked at me with greater steadfastness than before. I became +every moment more anxious for my safety. It was with difficulty I +stammered out an entreaty that he would instantly depart, or suffer +me to do so. He paid no regard to my request, but proceeded in a +more impassioned manner:-- + +"What is it you fear? Have I not told you you are safe? Has not +one in whom you more reasonably place trust assured you of it? +Even if I execute my purpose, what injury is done? Your prejudices +will call it by that name, but it merits it not. + +"I was impelled by a sentiment that does you honor; a sentiment +that would sanctify my deed; but, whatever it be, you are safe. Be +this chimera still worshiped; I will do nothing to pollute it." +There he stopped. + +The accents and gestures of this man left me drained of all +courage. Surely, on no other occasion should I have been thus +pusillanimous. My state I regarded as a hopeless one. I was +wholly at the mercy of this being. Whichever way I turned my eyes, +I saw no avenue by which I might escape. The resources of my +personal strength, my ingenuity, and my eloquence, I estimated at +nothing. The dignity of virtue and the force of truth I had been +accustomed to celebrate, and had frequently vaunted of the +conquests which I should make with their assistance. + +I used to suppose that certain evils could never befall a being in +possession of a sound mind; that true virtue supplies us with +energy which vice can never resist; that it was always in our power +to obstruct, by his own death, the designs of an enemy who aimed at +less than our life. How was it that a sentiment like despair had +now invaded me, and that I trusted to the protection of chance, or +to the pity of my persecutor? + +His words imparted some notion of the injury which he had +meditated. He talked of obstacles that had risen in his way. He +had relinquished his design. These sources supplied me with +slender consolation. There was no security but in his absence. +When I looked at myself, when I reflected on the hour and the +place, I was overpowered by horror and dejection. + +He was silent, museful, and inattentive to my situation, yet made +no motion to depart. I was silent in my turn. What could I say? +I was confident that reason in this contest would be impotent. I +must owe my safety to his own suggestions. Whatever purpose +brought him hither, he had changed it. Why then did he remain? +His resolutions might fluctuate, and the pause of a few minutes +restore to him his first resolutions. + +Yet was not this the man whom we had treated with unwearied +kindness? whose society was endeared to us by his intellectual +elevation and accomplishments? who had a thousand times expatiated +on the usefulness and beauty of virtue? Why should such a one be +dreaded? If I could have forgotten the circumstances in which our +interview had taken place, I might have treated his words as jests. +Presently, he resumed:-- + +"Fear me not: the space that severs us is small, and all visible +succor is distant. You believe yourself completely in my power; +that you stand upon the brink of ruin. Such are your groundless +fears. I cannot lift a finger to hurt you. Easier would it be to +stop the moon in her course than to injure you. The power that +protects you would crumble my sinews and reduce me to a heap of +ashes in a moment, if I were to harbor a thought hostile to your +safety. + +"Thus are appearances at length solved. Little did I expect that +they originated hence. What a portion is assigned to you! Scanned +by the eyes of this intelligence, your path will be without pits to +swallow or snares to entangle you. Environed by the arms of this +protection, all artifices will be frustrated and all malice +repelled." + +Here succeeded a new pause. I was still observant of every gesture +and look. The tranquil solemnity that had lately possessed his +countenance gave way to a new expression. All now was trepidation +and anxiety. + +"I must be gone," said he, in a faltering accent. "Why do I linger +here? I will not ask your forgiveness. I see that your terrors +are invincible. Your pardon will be extorted by fear, and not +dictated by compassion. I must fly from you forever. He that +could plot against your honor must expect from you and your friends +persecution and death. I must doom myself to endless exile." + +Saying this, he hastily left the room. I listened while he +descended the stairs, and, unbolting the outer door, went forth. I +did not follow him with my eyes, as the moonlight would have +enabled me to do. Relieved by his absence, and exhausted by the +conflict of my fears, I threw myself on a chair, and resigned +myself to those bewildering ideas which incidents like these could +not fail to produce. + + +V + + +Order could not readily be introduced into my thoughts. The voice +still rung in my ears. Every accent that was uttered by Carwin was +fresh in my remembrance. His unwelcome approach, the recognition +of his person, his hasty departure, produced a complex impression +on my mind which no words can delineate. I strove to give a slower +motion to my thoughts, and to regulate a confusion which became +painful; but my efforts were nugatory. I covered my eyes with my +hand, and sat, I know not how long, without power to arrange or +utter my conceptions. + +I had remained for hours, as I believed, in absolute solitude. No +thought of personal danger had molested my tranquillity. I had +made no preparation for defense. What was it that suggested the +design of perusing my father's manuscript? If, instead of this, I +had retired to bed and to sleep, to what fate might I not have been +reserved. The ruffian, who must almost have suppressed his +breathings to screen himself from discovery, would have noticed +this signal, and I should have awakened only to perish with +affright, and to abhor myself. Could I have remained unconscious +of my danger? Could I have tranquilly slept in the midst of so +deadly a snare? + +And who was he that threatened to destroy me? By what means could +he hide himself in this closet? Surely he is gifted with +supernatural power. Such is the enemy of whose attempts I was +forewarned. Daily I had seen him and conversed with him. Nothing +could be discerned through the impenetrable veil of his duplicity. +When busied in conjectures as to the author of the evil that was +threatened, my mind did not light for a moment upon his image. Yet +has he not avowed himself my enemy? Why should he be here if he +had not meditated evil? + +He confesses that this has been his second attempt. What was the +scene of his former conspiracy? Was it not he whose whispers +betrayed him? Am I deceived? or was there not a faint resemblance +between the voice of this man and that which talked of grasping my +throat and extinguishing my life in a moment? Then he had a +colleague in his crime; now he is alone. Then death was the scope +of his thoughts; now an injury unspeakably more dreadful. How +thankful should I be to the power that has interposed to save me! + +That power is invisible. It is subject to the cognizance of one of +my senses. What are the means that will inform me of what nature +it is? He has set himself to counter-work the machinations of this +man, who had menaced destruction to all that is dear to me, and +whose coming had surmounted every human impediment. There was none +to rescue me from his grasp. My rashness even hastened the +completion of his scheme, and precluded him from the benefits of +deliberation. I had robbed him of the power to repent and forbear. +Had I been apprised of the danger, I should have regarded my +conduct as the means of rendering my escape from it impossible. +Such, likewise, seem to have been the fears of my invisible +protector. Else why that startling entreaty to refrain from +opening the closet? By what inexplicable infatuation was I +compelled to proceed? + +"Surely," said I, "there is omnipotence in the cause that changed +the views of a man like Carwin. The divinity that shielded me from +his attempts will take suitable care of my future safety. Thus to +yield to my fears is to deserve that they should be real." + +Scarcely had I uttered these words, when my attention was startled +by the sound of footsteps. They denoted some one stepping into the +piazza in front of my house. My new-born confidence was +extinguished in a moment. Carwin, I thought, had repented his +departure, and was hastily returning. The possibility that his +return was prompted by intentions consistent with my safety found +no place in my mind. Images of violation and murder assailed me +anew, and the terrors which succeeded almost incapacitated me from +taking any measures for my defense. It was an impulse of which I +was scarcely conscious that made me fasten the lock and draw the +bolts of my chamber door. Having done this, I threw myself on a +seat; for I trembled to a degree which disabled me from standing, +and my soul was so perfectly absorbed in the act of listening, that +almost the vital motions were stopped. + +The door below creaked on its hinges. It was not again thrust to, +but appeared to remain open. Footsteps entered, traversed the +entry, and began to mount the stairs. How I detested the folly of +not pursuing the man when he withdrew, and bolting after him the +outer door! Might he not conceive this omission to be a proof that +my angel had deserted me, and be thereby fortified in guilt? + +Every step on the stairs which brought him nearer to my chamber +added vigor to my desperation. The evil with which I was menaced +was to be at any rate eluded. How little did I preconceive the +conduct which, in an exigence like this, I should be prone to +adopt! You will suppose that deliberation and despair would have +suggested the same course of action, and that I should have +unhesitatingly resorted to the best means of personal defense +within my power. A penknife lay open upon my table. I remembered +that it was there, and seized it. For what purpose you will +scarcely inquire. It will be immediately supposed that I meant it +for my last refuge, and that, if all other means should fail, I +should plunge it into the heart of my ravisher. + +I have lost all faith in the steadfastness of human resolves. It +was thus that in periods of calm I had determined to act. No +cowardice had been held by me in greater abhorrence than that which +prompted an injured female to destroy, not her injurer ere the +injury was perpetrated, but herself when it was without remedy. +Yet now this penknife appeared to me of no other use than to baffle +my assailant and prevent the crime by destroying myself. To +deliberate at such a time was impossible; but, among the tumultuous +suggestions of the moment, I do not recollect that it once occurred +to me to use it as an instrument of direct defense. + +The steps had now reached the second floor. Every footfall +accelerated the completion without augmenting the certainty of +evil. The consciousness that the door was fast, now that nothing +but that was interposed between me and danger, was a source of some +consolation. I cast my eye toward the window. This, likewise, was +a new suggestion. If the door should give way, it was my sudden +resolution to throw myself from the window. Its height from the +ground, which was covered beneath by a brick pavement, would insure +my destruction; but I thought not of that. + +When opposite to my door the footsteps ceased. Was he listening +whether my fears were allayed and my caution were asleep? Did he +hope to take me by surprise? Yet, if so, why did he allow so many +noisy signals to betray his approach? Presently the steps were +again heard to approach the door. A hand was laid upon the lock, +and the latch pulled back. Did he imagine it possible that I +should fail to secure the door? A slight effort was made to push +it open, as if, all bolts being withdrawn, a slight effort only was +required. + +I no sooner perceived this than I moved swiftly toward the window. +Carwin's frame might be said to be all muscle. His strength and +activity had appeared, in various instances, to be prodigious. A +slight exertion of his force would demolish the door. Would not +that exertion be made? Too surely it would; but, at the same +moment that this obstacle should yield and he should enter the +apartment, my determination was formed to leap from the window. My +senses were still bound to this object. I gazed at the door in +momentary expectation that the assault would be made. The pause +continued. The person without was irresolute and motionless. + +Suddenly it occurred to me that Carwin might conceive me to have +fled. That I had not betaken myself to flight was, indeed, the +least probable of all conclusions. In this persuasion he must have +been confirmed on finding the lower door unfastened and the chamber +door locked. Was it not wise to foster this persuasion? Should I +maintain deep silence, this, in addition to other circumstances, +might encourage the belief, and he would once more depart. Every +new reflection added plausibility to this reasoning. It was +presently more strongly enforced when I noticed footsteps +withdrawing from the door. The blood once more flowed back to my +heart, and a dawn of exultation began to rise; but my joy was +short-lived. Instead of descending the stairs, he passed to the +door of the opposite chamber, opened it, and, having entered, shut +it after him with a violence that shook the house. + +How was I to interpret this circumstance? For what end could he +have entered this chamber? Did the violence with which he closed +the door testify the depth of his vexation? This room was usually +occupied by Pleyel. Was Carwin aware of his absence on this night? +Could he be suspected of a design so sordid as pillage? If this +were his view, there were no means in my power to frustrate it. It +behooved me to seize the first opportunity to escape; but, if my +escape were supposed by my enemy to have been already effected, no +asylum was more secure than the present. How could my passage from +the house be accomplished without noises that might incite him to +pursue me? + +Utterly at a loss to account for his going into Pleyel's chamber, I +waited in instant expectation of hearing him come forth. All, +however, was profoundly still. I listened in vain for a +considerable period to catch the sound of the door when it should +again be opened. There was no other avenue by which he could +escape, but a door which led into the girl's chamber. Would any +evil from this quarter befall the girl? + +Hence arose a new train of apprehensions. They merely added to the +turbulence and agony of my reflections. Whatever evil impended +over her, I had no power to avert it. Seclusion and silence were +the only means of saving myself from the perils of this fatal +night. What solemn vows did I put up, that, if I should once more +behold the light of day, I would never trust myself again within +the threshold of this dwelling! + +Minute lingered after minute, but no token was given that Carwin +had returned to the passage. What, I again asked, could detain him +in this room? Was it possible that he had returned, and glided +unperceived away? I was speedily aware of the difficulty that +attended an enterprise like this; and yet, as if by that means I +were capable of gaining any information on that head, I cast +anxious looks from the window. + +The object that first attracted my attention was a human figure +standing on the edge of the bank. Perhaps my penetration was +assisted by my hopes. Be that as it will, the figure of Carwin was +clearly distinguishable. From the obscurity of my station, it was +impossible that I should be discerned by him; and yet he scarcely +suffered me to catch a glimpse of him. He turned and went down the +steep, which in this part was not difficult to be scaled. + +My conjecture, then, had been right. Carwin has softly opened the +door, descended the stairs, and issued forth. That I should not +have overheard his steps was only less incredible than that my eyes +had deceived me. But what was now to be done? The house was at +length delivered from this detested inmate. By one avenue might he +again reenter. Was it not wise to bar the lower door? Perhaps he +had gone out by the kitchen door. For this end, he must have +passed through Judith's chamber. These entrances being closed and +bolted, as great security was gained as was compatible with my +lonely condition. + +The propriety of these measures was too manifest not to make me +struggle successfully with my fears. Yet I opened my own door with +the utmost caution, and descended as if I were afraid that Carwin +had been still immured in Pleyel's chamber. The outer door was +ajar. I shut it with trembling eagerness, and drew every bolt that +appended to it. I then passed with light and less cautious steps +through the parlor, but was surprised to discover that the kitchen +door was secure. I was compelled to acquiesce in the first +conjecture that Carwin had escaped through the entry. + +My heart was now somewhat eased of the load of apprehension. I +returned once more to my chamber, the door of which I was careful +to lock. It was no time to think of repose. The moonlight began +already to fade before the light of the day. The approach of +morning was betokened by the usual signals. I mused upon the +events of this night, and determined to take up my abode henceforth +at my brother's. Whether I should inform him of what had happened +was a question which seemed to demand some consideration. My +safety unquestionably required that I should abandon my present +habitation. + +As my thoughts began to flow with fewer impediments, the image of +Pleyel, and the dubiousness of his condition, again recurred to me. +I again ran over the possible causes of his absence on the +preceding day. My mind was attuned to melancholy. I dwelt, with +an obstinacy for which I could not account, on the idea of his +death. I painted to myself his struggles with the billows, and his +last appearance. I imagined myself a midnight wanderer on the +shore, and to have stumbled on his corpse, which the tide had cast +up. These dreary images affected me even to tears. I endeavored +not to restrain them. They imparted a relief which I had not +anticipated. The more copiously they flowed, the more did my +general sensations appear to subside into calm, and a certain +restlessness give way to repose. + +Perhaps, relieved by this effusion, the slumber so much wanted +might have stolen on my senses, had there been no new cause of +alarm. + + +VI + + +I was aroused from this stupor by sounds that evidently arose in +the next chamber. Was it possible that I had been mistaken in the +figure which I had seen on the bank? or had Carwin, by some +inscrutable means, penetrated once more into this chamber? The +opposite door opened; footsteps came forth, and the person, +advancing to mine, knocked. + +So unexpected an incident robbed me of all presence of mind, and, +starting up, I involuntarily exclaimed, "Who is there?" An answer +was immediately given. The voice, to my inexpressible +astonishment, was Pleyel's. + +"It is I. Have you risen? If you have not, make haste; I want +three minutes' conversation with you in the parlor. I will wait +for you there." Saying this, he retired from the door. + +Should I confide in the testimony of my ears? If that were true, +it was Pleyel that had been hitherto immured in the opposite +chamber; he whom my rueful fancy had depicted in so many ruinous +and ghastly shapes; he whose footsteps had been listened to with +such inquietude! What is man, that knowledge is so sparingly +conferred upon him! that his heart should be wrung with distress, +and his frame be exanimated with fear, though his safety be +encompassed with impregnable walls! What are the bounds of human +imbecility! He that warned me of the presence of my foe refused +the intimation by which so many racking fears would have been +precluded. + +Yet who would have imagined the arrival of Pleyel at such an hour? +His tone was desponding and anxious. Why this unseasonable +summons? and why this hasty departure? Some tidings he, perhaps, +bears of mysterious and unwelcome import. + +My impatience would not allow me to consume much time in +deliberation; I hastened down. Pleyel I found standing at a +window, with eyes cast down as in meditation, and arms folded on +his breast. Every line in his countenance was pregnant with +sorrow. To this was added a certain wanness and air of fatigue. +The last time I had seen him appearances had been the reverse of +these. I was startled at the change. The first impulse was to +question him as to the cause. This impulse was supplanted by some +degree of confusion, flowing from a consciousness that love had too +large, and, as it might prove, a perceptible, share in creating +this impulse. I was silent. + +Presently be raised his eyes and fixed them upon me. I read in +them an anguish altogether ineffable. Never had I witnessed a like +demeanor in Pleyel. Never, indeed, had I observed a human +countenance in which grief was more legibly inscribed. He seemed +struggling for utterance; but, his struggles being fruitless, he +shook his head and turned away from me. + +My impatience would not allow me to be longer silent. "What," said +I, "for heaven's sake, my friend,--what is the matter?" + +He started at the sound of my voice. His looks, for a moment, +became convulsed with an emotion very different from grief. His +accents were broken with rage:-- + +"The matter! O wretch!--thus exquisitely fashioned,--on whom +nature seemed to have exhausted all her graces; with charms so +awful and so pure! how art thou fallen! From what height fallen! +A ruin so complete,--so unheard of!" + +His words were again choked by emotion. Grief and pity were again +mingled in his features. He resumed, in a tone half suffocated by +sobs:-- + +"But why should I upbraid thee? Could I restore to thee what thou +hast lost, efface this cursed stain, snatch thee from the jaws of +this fiend, I would do it. Yet what will avail my efforts? I have +not arms with which to contend with so consummate, so frightful a +depravity. + +"Evidence less than this would only have excited resentment and +scorn. The wretch who should have breathed a suspicion injurious +to thy honor would have been regarded without anger: not hatred or +envy could have prompted him; it would merely be an argument of +madness. That my eyes, that my ears, should bear witness to thy +fall! By no other way could detestable conviction be imparted. + +"Why do I summon thee to this conference? Why expose myself to thy +derision? Here admonition and entreaty are vain. Thou knowest him +already for a murderer and thief. I thought to have been the first +to disclose to thee his infamy; to have warned thee of the pit to +which thou art hastening; but thy eyes are open in vain. Oh, foul +and insupportable disgrace! + +"There is but one path. I know you will disappear together. In +thy ruin, how will the felicity and honor of multitudes be +involved! But it must come. This scene shall not be blotted by +his presence. No doubt thou wilt shortly see thy detested +paramour. This scene will be again polluted by a midnight +assignation. Inform him of his dangers; tell him that his crimes +are known; let him fly far and instantly from this spot, if he +desires to avoid the fate which menaced him in Ireland. + +"And wilt thou not stay behind? But shame upon my weakness! I +know not what I would say. I have done what I purposed. To stay +longer, to expostulate, to beseech, to enumerate the consequences +of thy act,--what end can it serve but to blazon thy infamy and +embitter our woes? And yet, oh, think--think ere it be too late-- +on the distresses which thy flight will entail upon us; on the +base, groveling, and atrocious character of the wretch to whom thou +hast sold thy honor. But what is this? Is not thy effrontery +impenetrable and thy heart thoroughly cankered? Oh, most specious +and most profligate of women!" + +Saying this, he rushed out of the house. I saw him in a few +moments hurrying along the path which led to my brother's. I had +no power to prevent his going, or to recall or to follow him. The +accents I had heard were calculated to confound and bewilder. I +looked around me, to assure myself that the scene was real. I +moved, that I might banish the doubt that I was awake. Such +enormous imputations from the mouth of Pleyel! To be stigmatized +with the names of wanton and profligate! To be charged with the +sacrifice of honor! with midnight meetings with a wretch known to +be a murderer and thief! with an intention to fly in his company! + +What I had heard was surely the dictate of frenzy, or it was built +upon some fatal, some incomprehensible mistake. After the horrors +of the night, after undergoing perils so imminent from this man, to +be summoned to an interview like this!--to find Pleyel fraught with +a belief that, instead of having chosen death as a refuge from the +violence of this man, I had hugged his baseness to my heart, had +sacrificed for him my purity, my spotless name, my friendships, and +my fortune! That even madness could engender accusations like +these was not to be believed. + +What evidence could possibly suggest conceptions so wild? After +the unlooked-for interview with Carwin in my chamber, he retired. +Could Pleyel have observed his exit? It was not long after that +Pleyel himself entered. Did he build on this incident his odious +conclusions? Could the long series of my actions and sentiments +grant me no exemption from suspicions so foul? Was it not more +rational to infer that Carwin's designs had been illicit? that my +life had been endangered by the fury of one whom, by some means, he +had discovered to be an assassin and robber? that my honor had been +assailed, not by blandishments, but by violence? + +He has judged me without hearing. He has drawn from dubious +appearances conclusions the most improbable and unjust. He has +loaded me with all outrageous epithets. He has ranked me with +prostitutes and thieves. I cannot pardon thee, Pleyel, for this +injustice. Thy understanding must be hurt. If it be not,--if thy +conduct was sober and deliberate,--I can never forgive an outrage +so unmanly and so gross. + +These thoughts gradually gave place to others. Pleyel was +possessed by some momentary frenzy; appearances had led him into +palpable errors. Whence could his sagacity have contracted this +blindness? Was it not love? Previously assured of my affection +for Carwin, distracted with grief and jealousy, and impelled hither +at that late hour by some unknown instigation, his imagination +transformed shadows into monsters, and plunged him into these +deplorable errors. + +This idea was not unattended with consolation. My soul was divided +between indignation at his injustice and delight on account of the +source from which I conceived it to spring. For a long time they +would allow admission to no other thoughts. Surprise is an emotion +that enfeebles, not invigorates. All my meditations were +accompanied with wonder. I rambled with vagueness, or clung to one +image with an obstinacy which sufficiently testified the maddening +influence of late transactions. + +Gradually I proceeded to reflect upon the consequences of Pleyel's +mistake, and on the measures I should take to guard myself against +future injury from Carwin. Should I suffer this mistake to be +detected by time? When his passion should subside, would he not +perceive the flagrancy of his injustice and hasten to atone for it? +Did it not become my character to testify resentment for language +and treatment so opprobrious? Wrapped up in the consciousness of +innocence, and confiding in the influence of time and reflection to +confute so groundless a charge, it was my province to be passive +and silent. + +As to the violences meditated by Carwin, and the means of eluding +them, the path to be taken by me was obvious. I resolved to tell +the tale to my brother and regulate myself by his advice. For this +end, when the morning was somewhat advanced, I took the way to his +house. My sister was engaged in her customary occupations. As +soon as I appeared, she remarked a change in my looks. I was not +willing to alarm her by the information which I had to communicate. +Her health was in that condition which rendered a disastrous tale +particularly unsuitable. I forbore a direct answer to her +inquiries, and inquired, in my turn, for Wieland. + +"Why," said she, "I suspect something mysterious and unpleasant has +happened this morning. Scarcely had we risen when Pleyel dropped +among us. What could have prompted him to make us so early and so +unseasonable a visit I cannot tell. To judge from the disorder of +his dress, and his countenance, something of an extraordinary +nature has occurred. He permitted me merely to know that he had +slept none, nor even undressed, during the past night. He took +your brother to walk with him. Some topic must have deeply engaged +them, for Wieland did not return till the breakfast hour was +passed, and returned alone. His disturbance was excessive; but he +would not listen to my importunities, or tell me what had happened. +I gathered, from hints which he let fall, that your situation was +in some way the cause; yet he assured me that you were at your own +house, alive, in good health, and in perfect safety. He scarcely +ate a morsel, and immediately after breakfast went out again. He +would not inform me whither he was going, but mentioned that he +probably might not return before night." + +I was equally astonished and alarmed by this information. Pleyel +had told his tale to my brother, and had, by a plausible and +exaggerated picture, instilled into him unfavorable thoughts of me. +Yet would not the more correct judgment of Wieland perceive and +expose the fallacy of his conclusions? Perhaps his uneasiness +might arise from some insight into the character of Carwin, and +from apprehensions for my safety. The appearances by which Pleyel +had been misled might induce him likewise to believe that I +entertained an indiscreet though not dishonorable affection for +Carwin. Such were the conjectures rapidly formed. I was +inexpressibly anxious to change them into certainty. For this end +an interview with my brother was desirable. He was gone no one +knew whither, and was not expected speedily to return. I had no +clew by which to trace his footsteps. + +My anxieties could not be concealed from my sister. They +heightened her solicitude to be acquainted with the cause. There +were many reasons persuading me to silence; at least, till I had +seen my brother, it would be an act of inexcusable temerity to +unfold what had lately passed. No other expedient for eluding her +importunities occurred to me but that of returning to my own house. +I recollected my determination to become a tenant of this roof. I +mentioned it to her. She joyfully acceded to this proposal, and +suffered me with less reluctance to depart when I told her that it +was with a view to collect and send to my new dwelling what +articles would be immediately useful to me. + +Once more I returned to the house which had been the scene of so +much turbulence and danger. I was at no great distance from it +when I observed my brother coming out. On seeing me he stopped, +and, after ascertaining, as it seemed, which way I was going, he +returned into the house before me. I sincerely rejoiced at this +event, and I hastened to set things, if possible, on their right +footing. + +His brow was by no means expressive of those vehement emotions with +which Pleyel had been agitated. I drew a favorable omen from this +circumstance. Without delay I began the conversation. + +"I have been to look for you," said I, "but was told by Catharine +that Pleyel had engaged you on some important and disagreeable +affair. Before his interview with you he spent a few minutes with +me. These minutes he employed in upbraiding me for crimes and +intentions with which I am by no means chargeable. I believe him +to have taken up his opinions on very insufficient grounds. His +behavior was in the highest degree precipitate and unjust, and, +until I receive some atonement, I shall treat him, in my turn, with +that contempt which he justly merits; meanwhile, I am fearful that +he has prejudiced my brother against me. That is an evil which I +most anxiously deprecate, and which I shall indeed exert myself to +remove. Has he made me the subject of this morning's conversation?" + +My brother's countenance testified no surprise at my address. The +benignity of his looks was nowise diminished. + +"It is true," said he, "your conduct was the subject of our +discourse. I am your friend as well as your brother. There is no +human being whom I love with more tenderness and whose welfare is +nearer my heart. Judge, then, with what emotions I listened to +Pleyel's story. I expect and desire you to vindicate yourself from +aspersions so foul, if vindication be possible." + +The tone with which he uttered the last words affected me deeply. +"If vindication be possible!" repeated I. "From what you know, do +you deem a formal vindication necessary? Can you harbor for a +moment the belief of my guilt?" + +He shook his head with an air of acute anguish. "I have +struggled," said he, "to dismiss that belief. You speak before a +judge who will profit by any pretense to acquit you who is ready to +question his own senses when they plead against you." + +These words incited a new set of thoughts in my mind. I began to +suspect that Pleyel had built his accusations on some foundation +unknown to me. "I may be a stranger to the grounds of your belief. +Pleyel loaded me with indecent and virulent invectives, but he +withheld from me the facts that generated his suspicions. Events +took place last night of which some of the circumstances were of an +ambiguous nature. I conceived that these might possibly have +fallen under his cognizance, and that, viewed through the mists of +prejudice and passion, they supplied a pretense for his conduct, +but believed that your more unbiased judgment would estimate them +at their just value. Perhaps his tale has been different from what +I suspect it to be. Listen, then, to my narrative. If there be +anything in his story inconsistent with mine, his story is false." + +I then proceeded to a circumstantial relation of the incidents of +the last night. Wieland listened with deep attention. Having +finished, "This," continued I, "is the truth. You see in what +circumstances an interview took place between Carwin and me. He +remained for hours in my closet, and for some minutes in my +chamber. He departed without haste or interruption. If Pleyel +marked him as he left the house, (and it is not impossible that he +did,) inferences injurious to my character might suggest themselves +to him. In admitting them, he gave proofs of less discernment and +less candor than I once ascribed to him." + +"His proofs," said Wieland, after a considerable pause, "are +different. That he should be deceived is not possible. That he +himself is not the deceiver could not be believed, if his testimony +were not inconsistent with yours; but the doubts which I +entertained are now removed. Your tale, some parts of it, is +marvelous; the voice which exclaimed against your rashness in +approaching the closet, your persisting, notwithstanding that +prohibition, your belief that I was the ruffian, and your +subsequent conduct, are believed by me, because I have known you +from childhood, because a thousand instances have attested your +veracity, and because nothing less than my own hearing and vision +would convince me, in opposition to her own assertions, that my +sister had fallen into wickedness like this." + +I threw my arms around him and bathed his cheek with my tears. +"That," said I, "is spoken like my brother. But what are the +proofs?" + +He replied, "Pleyel informed me that, in going to your house, his +attention was attracted by two voices. The persons speaking sat +beneath the bank, out of sight. These persons, judging by their +voices, were Carwin and you. I will not repeat the dialogue. If +my sister was the female, Pleyel was justified in concluding you to +be indeed one of the most profligate of women. Hence his +accusations of you, and his efforts to obtain my concurrence to a +plan by which an eternal separation should be brought about between +my sister and this man." + +I made Wieland repeat this recital. Here indeed was a tale to fill +me with terrible foreboding. I had vainly thought that my safety +could be sufficiently secured by doors and bars, but this is a foe +from whose grasp no power of divinity can save me! His artifices +will ever lay my fame and happiness at his mercy. How shall I +counterwork his plots or detect his coadjutor? He has taught some +vile and abandoned female to mimic my voice. Pleyel's ears were +the witnesses of my dishonor. This is the midnight assignation to +which he alluded. Thus is the silence he maintained when +attempting to open the door of my chamber, accounted for. He +supposed me absent, and meant, perhaps, had my apartment been +accessible, to leave in it some accusing memorial. + + + +SECOND PART + + +I + + +[As this part opens, the unhappy Clara is describing her hurried +return to the same ill-fated abode at Mettingen. Hence kind +friends had borne her after the catastrophe of her brother +Wieland's "transformation." This was the crowning horror of all: +the morbid fanatic, prepared by gloomy anticipations of some +terrible sacrifice to be demanded in the name of religion, had +found himself goaded to blind fury, by a mysterious compelling +voice, to yield up to God the lives of his beloved wife and family; +and had done the awful deed! + +Though chained in his madhouse, he persists in his delusion; +insists that it still remains for him to sacrifice his sister +Clara; and twice breaks away in wild efforts to find and destroy +her.] + + +I took an irregular path which led me to my own house. All was +vacant and forlorn. A small enclosure near which the path led was +the burying ground belonging to the family. This I was obliged to +pass. Once I had intended to enter it, and ponder on the emblems +and inscriptions which my uncle had caused to be made on the tombs +of Catharine and her children; but now my heart faltered as I +approached, and I hastened forward that distance might conceal it +from my view. + +When I approached the recess, my heart again sunk. I averted my +eyes, and left it behind me as quickly as possible. Silence +reigned through my habitation, and a darkness which closed doors +and shutters produced. Every object was connected with mine or my +brother's history. I passed the entry, mounted the stair, and +unlocked the door of my chamber. It was with difficulty that I +curbed my fancy and smothered my fears. Slight movements and +casual sounds were transformed into beckoning shadows and calling +shapes. + +I proceeded to the closet. I opened and looked round it with +fearfulness. All things were in their accustomed order. I sought +and found the manuscript where I was used to deposit it. This +being secured, there was nothing to detain me; yet I stood and +contemplated awhile the furniture and walls of my chamber. I +remembered how long this apartment had been a sweet and tranquil +asylum; I compared its former state with its present dreariness, +and reflected that I now beheld it for the last time. + +Here it was that the incomprehensible behavior of Carwin was +witnessed; this the stage on which that enemy of man showed himself +for a moment unmasked. Here the menaces of murder were wafted to +my ear; and here these menaces were executed. + +These thoughts had a tendency to take from me my self-command. My +feeble limbs refused to support me, and I sunk upon a chair. +Incoherent and half-articulate exclamations escaped my lips. The +name of Carwin was uttered and eternal woes--woes like that which +his malice had entailed upon us--were heaped upon him. I invoked +all-seeing heaven to drag to light and punish this betrayer, and +accused its providence for having thus long delayed the retribution +that was due to so enormous a guilt. + +I have said that the window shutters were closed. A feeble light, +however, found entrance through the crevices. A small window +illuminated the closet, and, the door being closed, a dim ray +streamed through the keyhole. A kind of twilight was thus created, +sufficient for the purposes of vision, but, at the same time, +involving all minuter objects in obscurity. + +This darkness suited the color of my thoughts. I sickened at the +remembrance of the past. The prospect of the future excited my +loathing. I muttered, in a low voice, "Why should I live longer? +Why should I drag a miserable being? All for whom I ought to live +have perished. Am I not myself hunted to death?" + +At that moment my despair suddenly became vigorous. My nerves were +no longer unstrung. My powers, that had long been deadened, were +revived. My bosom swelled with a sudden energy, and the conviction +darted through my mind, that to end my torments was, at once, +practicable and wise. + +I knew how to find way to the recesses of life. I could use a +lancet with some skill, and could distinguish between vein and +artery. By piercing deep into the latter, I should shun the evils +which the future had in store for me, and take refuge from my woes +in quiet death. + +I started on my feet, for my feebleness was gone, and hasted to the +closet. A lancet and other small instruments were preserved in a +case which I had deposited here. Inattentive as I was to foreign +considerations, my ears were still open to any sound of mysterious +import that should occur. I thought I heard a step in the entry. +My purpose was suspended, and I cast an eager glance at my chamber +door, which was open. No one appeared, unless the shadow which I +discerned upon the floor was the outline of a man. If it were, I +was authorized to suspect that some one was posted close to the +entrance, who possibly had overheard my exclamations. + +My teeth chattered, and a wild confusion took the place of my +momentary calm. Thus it was when a terrific visage had disclosed +itself on a former night. Thus it was when the evil destiny of +Wieland assumed the lineaments of something human. What horrid +apparition was preparing to blast my sight? + +Still I listened and gazed. Not long, for the shadow moved; a +foot, unshapely and huge, was thrust forward; a form advanced from +its concealment, and stalked into the room. It was Carwin! + +While I had breath, I shrieked. While I had power over my muscles, +I motioned with my hand that he should vanish. My exertions could +not last long: I sunk into a fit. + +Oh that this grateful oblivion had lasted forever! Too quickly I +recovered my senses. The power of distinct vision was no sooner +restored to me, than this hateful form again presented itself, and +I once more relapsed. + +A second time, untoward nature recalled me from the sleep of death. +I found myself stretched upon the bed. When I had power to look +up, I remembered only that I had cause to fear. My distempered +fancy fashioned to itself no distinguishable image. I threw a +languid glance round me: once more my eyes lighted upon Carwin. + +He was seated on the floor, his back rested against the wall; his +knees were drawn up, and his face was buried in his hands. That +his station was at some distance, that his attitude was not +menacing, that his ominous visage was concealed, may account for my +now escaping a shock violent as those which were past. I withdrew +my eyes, but was not again deserted by my senses. + +On perceiving that I had recovered my sensibility, he lifted his +head. This motion attracted my attention. His countenance was +mild, but sorrow and astonishment sat upon his features. I averted +my eyes and feebly exclaimed, "Oh, fly!--fly far and forever!--I +cannot behold you and live!" + +He did not rise upon his feet, but clasped his hands, and said, in +a tone of deprecation, "I will fly. I am become a fiend, the sight +of whom destroys. Yet tell me my offense! You have linked curses +with my name; you ascribe to me a malice monstrous and infernal. I +look around: all is loneliness and desert! This house and your +brother's are solitary and dismantled! You die away at the sight +of me! My fear whispers that some deed of horror has been +perpetrated; that I am the undesigning cause." + +What language was this? Had he not avowed himself a ravisher? Had +not this chamber witnessed his atrocious purposes? I besought him +with new vehemence to go. + +He lifted his eyes:--"Great heaven! what have I done? I think I +know the extent of my offenses. I have acted, but my actions have +possibly effected more than I designed. This fear has brought me +back from my retreat. I come to repair the evil of which my +rashness was the cause, and to prevent more evil. I come to +confess my errors." + +"Wretch!" I cried, when my suffocating emotions would permit me to +speak, "the ghosts of my sister and her children,--do they not rise +to accuse thee? Who was it that blasted the intellect of Wieland? +Who was it that urged him to fury and guided him to murder? Who, +but thou and the devil, with whom thou art confederated?" + +At these words a new spirit pervaded his countenance. His eyes +once more appealed to heaven. "If I have memory--if I have being-- +I am innocent. I intended no ill; but my folly, indirectly and +remotely, may have caused it. But what words are these? Your +brother lunatic! His children dead!" + +What should I infer from this deportment? Was the ignorance which +these words implied real or pretended? Yet how could I imagine a +mere human agency in these events? But, if the influence was +preternatural or maniacal in my brother's case, they must be +equally so in my own. Then I remembered that the voice exerted was +to save me from Carwin's attempts. These ideas tended to abate my +abhorrence of this man, and to detect the absurdity of my +accusations. + +"Alas!" said I, "I have no one to accuse. Leave me to my fate. +Fly from a scene stained with cruelty, devoted to despair." + +Carwin stood for a time musing and mournful. At length he said, +"What has happened? I came to expiate my crimes: let me know them +in their full extent. I have horrible forebodings! What has +happened?" + +I was silent; but, recollecting the intimation given by this man +when he was detected in my closet, which implied some knowledge of +that power which interfered in my favor, I eagerly inquired, "What +was that voice which called upon me to hold when I attempted to +open the closet? What face was that which I saw at the bottom of +the stairs? Answer me truly." + +"I came to confess the truth. Your allusions are horrible and +strange. Perhaps I have but faint conceptions of the evils which +my infatuation has produced; but what remains I will perform. It +was MY VOICE that you heard! It was MY FACE that you saw!" + +For a moment I doubted whether my remembrance of events were not +confused. How could he be at once stationed at my shoulder and +shut up in my closet? How could he stand near me and yet be +invisible? But if Carwin's were the thrilling voice and the fiery +image which I had heard and seen, then was he the prompter of my +brother, and the author of these dismal outrages. + +Once more I averted my eyes and struggled for speech:--"Begone! +thou man of mischief! Remorseless and implacable miscreant, +begone!" + +"I will obey," said he, in a disconsolate voice; "yet, wretch as I +am, am I unworthy to repair the evils that I have committed? I +came as a repentant criminal. It is you whom I have injured, and +at your bar am I willing to appear and confess and expiate my +crimes. I have deceived you; I have sported with your terrors; I +have plotted to destroy your reputation. I come now to remove your +terrors; to set you beyond the reach of similar fears; to rebuild +your fame as far as I am able. + +"This is the amount of my guilt, and this the fruit of my remorse. +Will you not hear me? Listen to my confession, and then denounce +punishment. All I ask is a patient audience." + +"What!" I replied; "was not thine the voice that commanded my +brother to imbrue his hands in the blood of his children?--to +strangle that angel of sweetness, his wife? Has he not vowed my +death, and the death of Pleyel, at thy bidding? Hast thou not made +him the butcher of his family?--changed him who was the glory of +his species into worse than brute?--robbed him of reason and +consigned the rest of his days to fetters and stripes?" + +Carwin's eyes glared and his limbs were petrified at this +intelligence. No words were requisite to prove him guiltless of +these enormities: at the time, however, I was nearly insensible to +these exculpatory tokens. He walked to the farther end of the +room, and, having recovered some degree of composure, he spoke:-- + +"I am not this villain. I have slain no one; I have prompted none +to slay; I have handled a tool of wonderful efficacy without +malignant intentions, but without caution. Ample will be the +punishment of my temerity, if my conduct has contributed to this +evil." He paused. + +I likewise was silent. I struggled to command myself so far as to +listen to the tale which he should tell. Observing this, he +continued:-- + +"You are not apprised of the existence of a power which I possess. +I know not by what name to call it.[1] It enables me to mimic +exactly the voice of another, and to modify the sound so that it +shall appear to come from what quarter and be uttered at what +distance I please. + +"I know not that everyone possesses this power. Perhaps, though a +casual position of my organs in my youth showed me that I possessed +it, it is an art which may be taught to all. Would to God I had +died unknowing of the secret! It has produced nothing but +degradation and calamity." + + +[1] Biloquium, or ventrilocution. Sound is varied according to the +variations of direction and distance. The art of the ventriloquist +consists in modifying his voice according to all these variations, +without changing his place. See the work of the Abbe de la +Chappelle, in which are accurately recorded the performances of one +of these artists, and some ingenious though unsatisfactory +speculations are given on the means by which the effects are +produced. This power is, perhaps, given by nature, but is +doubtless improvable, if not acquirable, by art. It may, possibly, +consist in an unusual flexibility or extension of the bottom of the +tongue and the uvula. That speech is producible by these alone +must be granted, since anatomists mention two instances of persons +speaking without a tongue. In one case the organ was originally +wanting, but its place was supplied by a small tubercle, and the +uvula was perfect. In the other the tongue was destroyed by +disease, but probably a small part of it remained. + +This power is difficult to explain, but the fact is undeniable. +Experience shows that the human voice can imitate the voice of all +men and of all inferior animals. The sound of musical instruments, +and even noises from the contact of inanimate substances, have been +accurately imitated. The mimicry of animals is notorious; and Dr. +Burney ("Musical Travels") mentions one who imitated a flute and +violin, so as to deceive even his ears. + + + +THIRD PART + + +I + + +[After Carwin's confession of his powers of ventriloquism all the +mysteries are cleared up--save one. The owner of the voice heard +in Clara's chamber, on the first night after the wanderer appeared +at Mettingen; the threatener on the edge of the precipice; the spy +in Clara's closet, and would-be intruder; the manipulator of the +vile plot that destroyed her lover's confidence--all these hidden +identities have materialized in the person of this one unhappy man. +But while confessing the prying disposition which led to these +sins, in efforts to protect himself from discovery, Carwin still +denies that Wieland's mad acts were perpetrated at his +instigation.] + + +"I have uttered the truth. This is the extent of my offenses. You +tell me a horrid tale of Wieland being led to the destruction of +his wife and children by some mysterious agent. You charge me with +the guilt of this agency, but I repeat that the amount of my guilt +has been truly stated. The perpetrator of Catharine's death was +unknown to me till now; nay, it is still unknown to me." + +At that moment, the closing of a door in the kitchen was distinctly +heard by us. Carwin started and paused. "There is some one +coming. I must not be found here by my enemies, and need not, +since my purpose is answered." + +I had drunk in, with the most vehement attention, every word that +he had uttered. I had no breath to interrupt his tale by +interrogations or comments. The power that he spoke of was +hitherto unknown to me; its existence was incredible; it was +susceptible of no direct proof. + +He owns that his were the voice and face which I heard and saw. He +attempts to give a human explanation of these phantasms but it is +enough that he owns himself to be the agent: his tale is a lie, and +his nature devilish. As he deceived me, he likewise deceived my +brother, and now do I behold the author of all our calamities! + +Such were my thoughts when his pause allowed me to think. I should +have bade him begone if the silence had not been interrupted; but +now I feared no more for myself; and the milkiness of my nature was +curdled into hatred and rancor. Some one was near, and this enemy +of God and man might possibly be brought to justice. I reflected +not that the preternatural power which he had hitherto exerted +would avail to rescue him from any toils in which his feet might be +entangled. Meanwhile, looks, and not words, of menace and +abhorrence, were all that I could bestow. + +He did not depart. He seemed dubious whether by passing out of the +house, or by remaining somewhat longer where he was, he should most +endanger his safety. His confusion increased when steps of one +barefoot were heard upon the stairs. He threw anxious glances +sometimes at the closet, sometimes at the window, and sometimes at +the chamber door; yet he was detained by some inexplicable +fascination. He stood as if rooted to the spot. + +As to me, my soul was bursting with detestation and revenge. I had +no room for surmises and fears respecting him that approached. It +was doubtless a human being, and would befriend me so far as to aid +me in arresting this offender. + +The stranger quickly entered the room. My eyes and the eyes of +Carwin were at the same moment darted upon him. A second glance +was not needed to inform us who he was. His locks were tangled, +and fell confusedly over his forehead and ears. His shirt was of +coarse stuff, and open at the neck and breast. His coat was once +of bright and fine texture, but now torn and tarnished with dust. +His feet, his legs, and his arms, were bare. His features were the +seat of a wild and tranquil solemnity, but his eyes bespoke +inquietude and curiosity. + +He advanced with a firm step, and looking as in search of some one. +He saw me and stopped. He bent his sight on the floor, and, +clenching his hands, appeared suddenly absorbed in meditation. +Such were the figure and deportment of Wieland! Such, in his +fallen state, were the aspect and guise of my brother! + +Carwin did not fail to recognize the visitant. Care for his own +safety was apparently swallowed up in the amazement which this +spectacle produced. His station was conspicuous, and he could not +have escaped the roving glances of Wieland; yet the latter seemed +totally unconscious of his presence. + +Grief at this scene of ruin and blast was at first the only +sentiment of which I was conscious. A fearful stillness ensued. +At length Wieland, lifting his hands, which were locked in each +other, to his breast, exclaimed, "Father! I thank thee. This is +thy guidance. Hither thou hast led me, that I might perform thy +will. Yet let me not err; let me hear again thy messenger!" + +He stood for a minute as if listening; but, recovering from his +attitude, he continued, "It is not needed. Dastardly wretch! thus +eternally questioning the behests of thy Maker! weak in resolution, +wayward in faith!" + +He advanced to me, and, after another pause, resumed:--"Poor girl! +a dismal fate has set its mark upon thee. Thy life is demanded as +a sacrifice. Prepare thee to die. Make not my office difficult by +fruitless opposition. Thy prayers might subdue stones; but none +but he who enjoined my purpose can shake it." + +These words were a sufficient explication of the scene. The nature +of his frenzy, as described by my uncle, was remembered. I, who +had sought death, was now thrilled with horror because it was near. +Death in this form, death from the hand of a brother, was thought +upon with indescribable repugnance. + +In a state thus verging upon madness, my eye glanced upon Carwin. +His astonishment appeared to have struck him motionless and dumb. +My life was in danger, and my brother's hand was about to be +imbrued in my blood. I firmly believed that Carwin's was the +instigation. I could rescue myself from this abhorred fate; I +could dissipate this tremendous illusion; I could save my brother +from the perpetration of new horrors, by pointing out the devil who +seduced him. To hesitate a moment was to perish. These thoughts +gave strength to my limbs and energy to my accents; I started on my +feet:-- + +"Oh, brother! spare me! spare thyself! There is thy betrayer. He +counterfeited the voice and face of an angel, for the purpose of +destroying thee and me. He has this moment confessed it. He is +able to speak where he is not. He is leagued with hell, but will +not avow it; yet he confesses that the agency was his." + +My brother turned slowly his eyes, and fixed them upon Carwin. +Every joint in the frame of the latter trembled. His complexion +was paler than a ghost's. His eye dared not meet that of Wieland, +but wandered with an air of distraction from one space to another. + +"Man," said my brother, in a voice totally unlike that which he had +used to me, "what art thou? The charge has been made. Answer it. +The visage--the voice--at the bottom of these stairs--at the hour +of eleven--to whom did they belong? To thee?" + +Twice did Carwin attempt to speak, but his words died away upon his +lips. My brother resumed, in a tone of greater vehemence:-- + +"Thou falterest. Faltering is ominous. Say yes or no; one word +will suffice; but beware of falsehood. Was it a stratagem of hell +to overthrow my family? Wast thou the agent?" + +I now saw that the wrath which had been prepared for me was to be +heaped upon another. The tale that I heard from him, and his +present trepidations, were abundant testimonies of his guilt. But +what if Wieland should be undeceived! What if he shall find his +act to have proceeded not from a heavenly prompter, but from human +treachery! Will not his rage mount into whirlwind? Will not he +tear limb from limb this devoted wretch? + +Instinctively I recoiled from this image; but it gave place to +another. Carwin may be innocent, but the impetuosity of his judge +may misconstrue his answers into a confession of guilt. Wieland +knows not that mysterious voices and appearances were likewise +witnessed by me. Carwin may be ignorant of those which misled my +brother. Thus may his answers unwarily betray himself to ruin. + +Such might be the consequences of my frantic precipitation, and +these it was necessary, if possible, to prevent. I attempted to +speak; but Wieland, turning suddenly upon me, commanded silence, in +a tone furious and terrible. My lips closed, and my tongue refused +its office. + +"What art thou?" he resumed, addressing himself to Carwin. "Answer +me: whose form--whose voice,--was it thy contrivance? Answer me." + +The answer was now given, but confusedly and scarcely articulated. +"I meant nothing--I intended no ill--if I understand--if I do not +mistake you--it is too true--I did appear--in the entry--did speak. +The contrivance was mine, but--" + +These words were no sooner uttered, than my brother ceased to wear +the same aspect. His eyes were downcast; he was motionless; his +respiration became hoarse, like that of a man in the agonies of +death. Carwin seemed unable to say more. He might have easily +escaped; but the thought which occupied him related to what was +horrid and unintelligible in this scene, and not to his own danger. + +Presently the faculties of Wieland, which, for a time, were chained +up, were seized with restlessness and trembling. He broke silence. +The stoutest heart would have been appalled by the tone in which he +spoke. He addressed himself to Carwin:-- + +"Why art thou here? Who detains thee? Go and learn better. I +will meet thee, but it must be at the bar of thy Maker. There +shall I bear witness against thee." + +Perceiving that Carwin did not obey, he continued, "Dost thou wish +me to complete the catalogue by thy death? Thy life is a worthless +thing. Tempt me no more. I am but a man, and thy presence may +awaken a fury which may spurn my control. Begone!" + +Carwin, irresolute, striving in vain for utterance, his complexion +pallid as death, his knees beating one against another, slowly +obeyed the mandate and withdrew. + + +II + + +A few words more and I lay aside the pen forever. Yet why should I +not relinquish it now? All that I have said is preparatory to this +scene, and my fingers, tremulous and cold as my heart, refuse any +further exertion. This must not be. Let my last energies support +me in the finishing of this task. Then will I lay down my head in +the lap of death. Hushed will be all my murmurs in the sleep of +the grave. + +Every sentiment has perished in my bosom. Even friendship is +extinct. Your love for me has prompted me to this task; but I +would not have complied if it had not been a luxury thus to feast +upon my woes. I have justly calculated upon my remnant of +strength. When I lay down the pen the taper of life will expire; +my existence will terminate with my tale. + +Now that I was left alone with Wieland, the perils of my situation +presented themselves to my mind. That this paroxysm should +terminate in havoc and rage it was reasonable to predict. The +first suggestion of my fears had been disproved by my experience. +Carwin had acknowledged his offenses, and yet had escaped. The +vengeance which I had harbored had not been admitted by Wieland; +and yet the evils which I had endured, compared with those +inflicted on my brother, were as nothing. I thirsted for his +blood, and was tormented with an insatiable appetite for his +destruction; but my brother was unmoved, and had dismissed him in +safety. Surely thou wast more than man, while I am sunk below the +beasts. + +Did I place a right construction on the conduct of Wieland? Was +the error that misled him so easily rectified? Were views so vivid +and faith so strenuous thus liable to fading and to change? Was +there not reason to doubt the accuracy of my perceptions? With +images like these was my mind thronged, till the deportment of my +brother called away my attention. + +I saw his lips move and his eyes cast up to heaven. Then would he +listen and look back, as if in expectation of some one's +appearance. Thrice he repeated these gesticulations and this +inaudible prayer. Each time the mist of confusion and doubt seemed +to grow darker and to settle on his understanding. I guessed at +the meaning of these tokens. The words of Carwin had shaken his +belief, and he was employed in summoning the messenger who had +formerly communed with him, to attest the value of those new +doubts. In vain the summons was repeated, for his eye met nothing +but vacancy, and not a sound saluted his ear. + +He walked to the bed, gazed with eagerness at the pillow which had +sustained the head of the breathless Catharine, and then returned +to the place where I sat. I had no power to lift my eyes to his +face: I was dubious of his purpose; this purpose might aim at my +life. + +Alas! nothing but subjection to danger and exposure to temptation +can show us what we are. By this test was I now tried, and found +to be cowardly and rash. Men can deliberately untie the thread of +life, and of this I had deemed myself capable. It was now that I +stood upon the brink of fate, that the knife of the sacrificer was +aimed at my heart, I shuddered, and betook myself to any means of +escape, however monstrous. + +Can I bear to think--can I endure to relate the outrage which my +heart meditated? Where were my means of safety? Resistance was +vain. Not even the energy of despair could set me on a level with +that strength which his terrific prompter had bestowed upon +Wieland. Terror enables us to perform incredible feats; but terror +was not then the state of my mind: where then were my hopes of +rescue? + +Methinks it is too much. I stand aside, as it were, from myself; I +estimate my own deservings; a hatred, immortal and inexorable, is +my due. I listen to my own pleas, and find them empty and false: +yes, I acknowledge that my guilt surpasses that of mankind; I +confess that the curses of a world and the frowns of a Deity are +inadequate to my demerits. Is there a thing in the world worthy of +infinite abhorrence? It is I. + +What shall I say? I was menaced, as I thought, with death, and, to +elude this evil, my hand was ready to inflict death upon the +menacer. In visiting my house, I had made provision against the +machinations of Carwin. In a fold of my dress an open penknife was +concealed. This I now seized and drew forth. It lurked out of +view; but I now see that my state of mind would have rendered the +deed inevitable if my brother had lifted his hand. This instrument +of my preservation would have been plunged into his heart. + +O insupportable remembrance! hide thee from my view for a time; +hide it from me that my heart was black enough to meditate the +stabbing of a brother! a brother thus supreme in misery; thus +towering in virtue! + +He was probably unconscious of my design, but presently drew back. +This interval was sufficient to restore me to myself. The madness, +the iniquity, of that act which I had purposed rushed upon my +apprehension. For a moment I was breathless with agony. At the +next moment I recovered my strength, and threw the knife with +violence on the floor. + +The sound awoke my brother from his reverie. He gazed alternately +at me and at the weapon. With a movement equally solemn he stooped +and took it up. He placed the blade in different positions, +scrutinizing it accurately, and maintaining, at the same time, a +profound silence. + +Again he looked at me; but all that vehemence and loftiness of +spirit which had so lately characterized his features were flown. +Fallen muscles, a forehead contracted into folds, eyes dim with +unbidden drops, and a ruefulness of aspect which no words can +describe, were now visible. + +His looks touched into energy the same sympathies in me, and I +poured forth a flood of tears. This passion was quickly checked by +fear, which had now no longer my own but his safety for their +object. I watched his deportment in silence. At length he spoke:-- + +"Sister," said he, in an accent mournful and mild, "I have acted +poorly my part in this world. What thinkest thou? Shall I not do +better in the next?" + +I could make no answer. The mildness of his tone astonished and +encouraged me. I continued to regard him with wistful and anxious +looks. + +"I think," resumed he, "I will try. My wife and my babes have gone +before. Happy wretches! I have sent you to repose, and ought not +to linger behind." + +These words had a meaning sufficiently intelligible. I looked at +the open knife in his hand and shuddered, but knew not how to +prevent the deed which I dreaded. He quickly noticed my fears, and +comprehended them. Stretching toward me his hand, with an air of +increasing mildness, "Take it," said he; "fear not for thy own +sake, nor for mine. The cup is gone by, and its transient +inebriation is succeeded by the soberness of truth. + +"Thou angel whom I was wont to worship! fearest thou, my sister, +for thy life? Once it was the scope of my labors to destroy thee, +but I was prompted to the deed by heaven; such, at least, was my +belief. Thinkest thou that thy death was sought to gratify +malevolence? No. I am pure from all stain. I believed that my +God was my mover! + +"Neither thee nor myself have I cause to injure. I have done my +duty; and surely there is merit in having sacrificed to that all +that is dear to the heart of man. If a devil has deceived me, he +came in the habit of an angel. If I erred, it was not my judgment +that deceived me, but my senses. In thy sight, Being of beings! I +am still pure. Still will I look for my reward in thy justice!" + +Did my ears truly report these sounds? If I did not err, my +brother was restored to just perceptions. He knew himself to have +been betrayed to the murder of his wife and children, to have been +the victim of infernal artifice; yet he found consolation in the +rectitude of his motives. He was not devoid of sorrow, for this +was written on his countenance; but his soul was tranquil and +sublime. + +Perhaps this was merely a transition of his former madness into a +new shape. Perhaps he had not yet awakened to the memory of the +horrors which he had perpetrated. Infatuated wretch that I was! +To set myself up as a model by which to judge of my heroic brother! +My reason taught me that his conclusions were right; but, conscious +of the impotence of reason over my own conduct, conscious of my +cowardly rashness and my criminal despair, I doubted whether anyone +could be steadfast and wise. + +Such was my weakness, that even in the midst of these thoughts my +mind glided into abhorrence of Carwin, and I uttered, in a low +voice, "O Carwin! Carwin! what hast thou to answer for?" + +My brother immediately noticed the involuntary exclamation. +"Clara!" said he, "be thyself. Equity used to be a theme for thy +eloquence. Reduce its lessons to practice, and be just to that +unfortunate man. The instrument has done its work, and I am +satisfied. + +"I thank thee, my God, for this last illumination! My enemy is +thine also. I deemed him to be a man,--the man with whom I have +often communed; but now thy goodness has unveiled to me his true +nature. As the performer of thy behests, he is my friend." + +My heart began now to misgive me. His mournful aspect had +gradually yielded place to a serene brow. A new soul appeared to +actuate his frame, and his eyes to beam with preternatural luster. +These symptoms did not abate, and he continued:-- + +"Clara, I must not leave thee in doubt. I know not what brought +about thy interview with the being whom thou callest Carwin. For a +time I was guilty of thy error, and deduced from his incoherent +confessions that I had been made the victim of human malice. He +left us at my bidding, and I put up a prayer that my doubts should +be removed. Thy eyes were shut and thy ears sealed to the vision +that answered my prayer. + +"I was indeed deceived. The form thou hast seen was the +incarnation of a demon. The visage and voice which urged me to the +sacrifice of my family were his. Now he personates a human form; +then he was environed with the luster of heaven. + +"Clara," he continued, advancing closer to me, "thy death must +come. This minister is evil, but he from whom his commission was +received is God. Submit then with all thy wonted resignation to a +decree that cannot be reversed or resisted. Mark the clock. Three +minutes are allowed to thee, in which to call up thy fortitude and +prepare thee for thy doom." There he stopped. + +Even now, when this scene exists only in memory, when life and all +its functions have sunk into torpor, my pulse throbs, and my hairs +uprise; my brows are knit, as then, and I gaze around me in +distraction. I was unconquerably averse to death; but death, +imminent and full of agony as that which was threatened, was +nothing. This was not the only or chief inspirer of my fears. + +For him, not for myself, was my soul tormented. I might die, and +no crime, surpassing the reach of mercy, would pursue me to the +presence of my Judge; but my assassin would survive to contemplate +his deed, and that assassin was Wieland! + +Wings to bear me beyond his reach I had not. I could not vanish +with a thought. The door was open, but my murderer was interposed +between that and me. Of self-defense I was incapable. The frenzy +that lately prompted me to blood was gone: my state was desperate; +my rescue was impossible. + +The weight of these accumulated thoughts could not be borne. My +sight became confused; my limbs were seized with convulsion; I +spoke, but my words were half formed:-- + +"Spare me, my brother! Look down, righteous Judge! snatch me from +this fate! take away this fury from him, or turn it elsewhere! " + +Such was the agony of my thoughts that I noticed not steps entering +my apartment. Supplicating eyes were cast upward; but when my +prayer was breathed I once more wildly gazed at the door. A form +met my sight; I shuddered as if the God whom I invoked were +present. It was Carwin that again intruded, and who stood before +me, erect in attitude and steadfast in look! + +The sight of him awakened new and rapid thoughts. His recent tale +was remembered; his magical transitions and mysterious energy of +voice. Whether he were infernal or miraculous or human, there was +no power and no need to decide. Whether the contriver or not of +this spell, he was able to unbind it, and to check the fury of my +brother. He had ascribed to himself intentions not malignant. +Here now was afforded a test of his truth. Let him interpose, as +from above; revoke the savage decree which the madness of Wieland +has assigned to heaven, and extinguish forever this passion for +blood! + +My mind detected at a glance this avenue to safety. The +recommendations it possessed thronged as it were together, and made +but one impression on my intellect. Remoter effects and collateral +dangers I saw not. Perhaps the pause of an instant had sufficed to +call them up. The improbability that the influence which governed +Wieland was external or human; the tendency of this stratagem to +sanction so fatal an error or substitute a more destructive rage in +place of this; the insufficiency of Carwin's mere muscular forces +to counteract the efforts and restrain the fury of Wieland, might, +at a second glance, have been discovered; but no second glance was +allowed. My first thought hurried me to action, and, fixing my +eyes upon Carwin, I exclaimed,-- + +"O wretch! once more hast thou come? Let it be to abjure thy +malice; to counterwork this hellish stratagem; to turn from me and +from my brother this desolating rage! + +"Testify thy innocence or thy remorse; exert the powers which +pertain to thee, whatever they be, to turn aside this ruin. Thou +art the author of these horrors! What have I done to deserve thus +to die? How have I merited this unrelenting persecution? I adjure +thee, by that God whose voice thou hast dared to counterfeit, to +save my life! + +"Wilt thou then go?--leave me! Succorless!" + +Carwin listened to my entreaties unmoved, and turned from me. He +seemed to hesitate a moment,--then glided through the door. Rage +and despair stifled my utterance. The interval of respite was +past; the pangs reserved for me by Wieland were not to be endured; +my thoughts rushed again into anarchy. Having received the knife +from his hand, I held it loosely and without regard; but now it +seized again my attention, and I grasped it with force. + +He seemed to notice not the entrance or exit of Carwin. My gesture +and the murderous weapon appeared to have escaped his notice. His +silence was unbroken; his eye, fixed upon the clock for a time, was +now withdrawn; fury kindled in every feature; all that was human in +his face gave way to an expression supernatural and tremendous. I +felt my left arm within his grasp. + +Even now I hesitated to strike. I shrunk from his assault, but in +vain. + +Here let me desist. Why should I rescue this event from oblivion? +Why should I paint this detestable conflict? Why not terminate at +once this series of horrors?--Hurry to the verge of the precipice, +and cast myself forever beyond remembrance and beyond hope? + +Still I live; with this load upon my breast; with this phantom to +pursue my steps; with adders lodged in my bosom, and stinging me to +madness; still I consent to live! + +Yes! I will rise above the sphere of mortal passions; I will spurn +at the cowardly remorse that bids me seek impunity in silence, or +comfort in forgetfulness. My nerves shall be new-strung to the +task. Have I not resolved? I will die. The gulf before me is +inevitable and near. I will die, but then only when my tale is at +an end. + + +III + + +My right hand, grasping the unseen knife, was still disengaged. It +was lifted to strike. All my strength was exhausted but what was +sufficient to the performance of this deed. Already was the energy +awakened and the impulse given that should bear the fatal steel to +his heart, when--Wieland shrunk back; his hand was withdrawn. +Breathless with affright and desperation, I stood, freed from his +grasp; unassailed; untouched. + +Thus long had the power which controlled the scene forborne to +interfere: but now his might was irresistible; and Wieland in a +moment was disarmed of all his purposes. A voice, louder than +human organs could produce, shriller than language can depict, +burst from the ceiling and commanded him--TO HOLD! + +Trouble and dismay succeeded to the steadfastness that had lately +been displayed in the looks of Wieland. His eyes roved from one +quarter to another, with an expression of doubt. He seemed to wait +for a further intimation. + +Carwin's agency was here easily recognized. I had besought him to +interpose in my defense. He had flown. I had imagined him deaf to +my prayer, and resolute to see me perish; yet he disappeared merely +to devise and execute the means of my relief. + +Why did he not forbear when this end was accomplished? Why did his +misjudging zeal and accursed precipitation overpass that limit? Or +meant he thus to crown the scene, and conduct his inscrutable plots +to this consummation? + +Such ideas were the fruit of subsequent contemplation. This moment +was pregnant with fate. I had no power to reason. In the career +of my tempestuous thoughts, rent into pieces as my mind was by +accumulating horrors, Carwin was unseen and unsuspected. I partook +of Wieland's credulity, shook with his amazement, and panted with +his awe. + +Silence took place for a moment: so much as allowed the attention +to recover its post. Then new sounds were uttered from above:-- + +"Man of errors! cease to cherish thy delusion; not heaven or hell, +but thy senses, have misled thee to commit these acts. Shake off +thy frenzy, and ascend into rational and human. Be lunatic no +longer." + +My brother opened his lips to speak. His tone was terrific and +faint. He muttered an appeal to heaven. It was difficult to +comprehend the theme of his inquiries. They implied doubt as to +the nature of the impulse that hitherto had guided him, and +questioned whether he had acted in consequence of insane +perceptions. + +To these interrogatories the voice, which now seemed to hover at +his shoulder, loudly answered in the affirmative. Then +uninterrupted silence ensued. + +Fallen from his lofty and heroic station; now finally restored to +the perception of truth; weighed to earth by the recollection of +his own deeds; consoled no longer by a consciousness of rectitude +for the loss of offspring and wife,--a loss for which he was +indebted to his own misguided hand,--Wieland was transformed at +once into the MAN OF SORROWS! + +He reflected not that credit should be as reasonably denied to the +last as to any former intimation; that one might as justly be +ascribed to erring or diseased senses as the other. He saw not +that this discovery in no degree affected the integrity of his +conduct; that his motives had lost none of their claims to the +homage of mankind; that the preference of supreme good, and the +boundless energy of duty, were undiminished in his bosom. + +It is not for me to pursue him through the ghastly changes of his +countenance. Words he had none. Now he sat upon the floor, +motionless in all his limbs, with his eyes glazed and fixed, a +monument of woe. + +Anon a spirit of tempestuous but undesigning activity seized him. +He rose from his place and strode across the floor, tottering and +at random. His eyes were without moisture, and gleamed with the +fire that consumed his vitals. The muscles of his face were +agitated by convulsions. His lips moved, but no sound escaped him. + +That nature should long sustain this conflict was not to be +believed. My state was little different from that of my brother. +I entered, as it were, into his thoughts. My heart was visited and +rent by his pangs. "Oh that thy frenzy had never been cured! that +thy madness, with its blissful visions, would return! or, if that +must not be, that thy scene would hasten to a close!--that death +would cover thee with his oblivion! + +"What can I wish for thee? Thou who hast vied with the great +Preacher of thy faith in sanctity of motives, and in elevation +above sensual and selfish! Thou whom thy fate has changed into +parricide and savage! Can I wish for the continuance of thy being? +No." + +For a time his movements seemed destitute of purpose. If he +walked; if he turned; if his fingers were entwined with each other; +if his hands were pressed against opposite sides of his head with a +force sufficient to crush it into pieces; it was to tear his mind +from self-contemplation; to waste his thoughts on external objects. + +Speedily this train was broken. A beam appeared to be darted into +his mind which gave a purpose to his efforts. An avenue to escape +presented itself; and now he eagerly gazed about him. When my +thoughts became engaged by his demeanor, my fingers were stretched +as by a mechanical force, and the knife, no longer heeded or of +use, escaped from my grasp and fell unperceived on the floor. His +eye now lighted upon it; he seized it with the quickness of +thought. + +I shrieked aloud, but it was too late. He plunged it to the hilt +in his neck; and his life instantly escaped with the stream that +gushed from the wound. He was stretched at my feet; and my hands +were sprinkled with his blood as he fell. + +Such was thy last deed, my brother! For a spectacle like this was +it my fate to be reserved! Thy eyes were closed--thy face ghastly +with death--thy arms, and the spot where thou lyedst, floated in +thy life's blood! These images have not for a moment forsaken me. +Till I am breathless and cold, they must continue to hover in my +sight. + +Carwin, as I said, had left the room; but he still lingered in the +house. My voice summoned him to my aid; but I scarcely noticed his +reentrance, and now faintly recollect his terrified looks, his +broken exclamations, his vehement avowals of innocence, the +effusions of his pity for me, and his offers of assistance. + +I did not listen--I answered him not--I ceased to upbraid or +accuse. His guilt was a point to which I was indifferent. Ruffian +or devil, black as hell or bright as angels, thenceforth he was +nothing to me. I was incapable of sparing a look or a thought from +the ruin that was spread at my feet. + +When he left me, I was scarcely conscious of any variation in the +scene. He informed the inhabitants of the hut of what had passed, +and they flew to the spot. Careless of his own safety, he hasted +to the city to inform my friends of my condition. + +My uncle speedily arrived at the house. The body of Wieland was +removed from my presence, and they supposed that I would follow it; +but no, my home is ascertained; here I have taken up my rest, and +never will I go hence, till, like Wieland, I am borne to my grave. + +Importunity was tried in vain. They threatened to remove me by +violence,--nay, violence was used; but my soul prizes too dearly +this little roof to endure to be bereaved of it. Force should not +prevail when the hoary locks and supplicating tears of my uncle +were ineffectual. My repugnance to move gave birth to +ferociousness and frenzy when force was employed, and they were +obliged to consent to my return. + +They besought me--they remonstrated--they appealed to every duty +that connected me with Him that made me and with my fellow-men--in +vain. While I live I will not go hence. Have I not fulfilled my +destiny? + +Why will ye torment me with your reasonings and reproofs? Can ye +restore to me the hope of my better days? Can ye give me back +Catharine and her babes? Can ye recall to life him who died at my +feet? + +I will eat--I will drink--I will lie down and rise up--at your +bidding; all I ask is the choice of my abode. What is there +unreasonable in this demand? Shortly will I be at peace. This is +the spot which I have chosen in which to breathe my last sigh. +Deny me not, I beseech you, so slight a boon. + +Talk not to me, O my reverend friend! of Carwin. He has told thee +his tale, and thou exculpatest him from all direct concern in the +fate of Wieland. This scene of havoc was produced by an illusion +of the senses. Be it so; I care not from what source these +disasters have flowed; it suffices that they have swallowed up our +hopes and our existence. + +What his agency began, his agency conducted to a close. He +intended, by the final effort of his power, to rescue me and to +banish his illusions from my brother. Such is his tale, concerning +the truth of which I care not. Henceforth I foster but one wish: I +ask only quick deliverance from life and all the ills that attend +it. + +Go, wretch! torment me not with thy presence and thy prayers.-- +Forgive thee? Will that avail thee when thy fateful hour shall +arrive? Be thou acquitted at thy own tribunal, and thou needest +not fear the verdict of others. If thy guilt be capable of blacker +hues, if hitherto thy conscience be without stain, thy crime will +be made more flagrant by thus violating my retreat. Take thyself +away from my sight if thou wouldst not behold my death! + +Thou art gone! murmuring and reluctant! And now my repose is +coming--my work is done! + + + +Fitzjames O'Brien + +The Golden Ingot + + +I had just retired to rest, with my eyes almost blind with the +study of a new work on physiology by M. Brown-Sequard, when the +night bell was pulled violently. + +It was winter, and I confess I grumbled as I rose and went +downstairs to open the door. Twice that week I had been aroused +long after midnight for the most trivial causes. Once, to attend +upon the son and heir of a wealthy family, who had cut his thumb +with a penknife, which, it seems, he insisted on taking to bed with +him; and once, to restore a young gentleman to consciousness, who +had been found by his horrified parent stretched insensible on the +staircase. Diachylon in the one case and ammonia in the other were +all that my patients required; and I had a faint suspicion that the +present summons was perhaps occasioned by no case more necessitous +than those I have quoted. I was too young in my profession, +however, to neglect opportunities. It is only when a physician +rises to a very large practice that he can afford to be +inconsiderate. I was on the first step of the ladder, so I humbly +opened my door. + +A woman was standing ankle deep in the snow that lay upon the +stoop. I caught but a dim glimpse of her form, for the night was +cloudy; but I could hear her teeth rattling like castanets, and, as +the sharp wind blew her clothes close to her form, I could discern +from the sharpness of the outlines that she was very scantily +supplied with raiment. + +"Come in, come in, my good woman," I said hastily, for the wind +seemed to catch eagerly at the opportunity of making itself at home +in my hall, and was rapidly forcing an entrance through the half- +open door. "Come in, you can tell me all you have to communicate +inside." + +She slipped in like a ghost, and I closed the door. While I was +striking a light in my office, I could hear her teeth still +clicking out in the dark hall, till it seemed as if some skeleton +was chattering. As soon as I obtained a light I begged her to +enter the room, and, without occupying myself particularly about +her appearance, asked her abruptly what her business was. + +"My father has met with a severe accident," she said, "and requires +instant surgical aid. I entreat you to come to him immediately." + +The freshness and the melody of her voice startled me. Such voices +rarely, if ever, issue from any but beautiful forms. I looked at +her attentively, but, owing to a nondescript species of shawl in +which her head was wrapped, I could discern nothing beyond what +seemed to be a pale, thin face and large eyes. Her dress was +lamentable. An old silk, of a color now unrecognizable, clung to +her figure in those limp folds which are so eloquent of misery. +The creases where it had been folded were worn nearly through, and +the edges of the skirt had decayed into a species of irregular +fringe, which was clotted and discolored with mud. Her shoes-- +which were but half concealed by this scanty garment--were +shapeless and soft with moisture. Her hands were hidden under the +ends of the shawl which covered her head and hung down over a bust, +the outlines of which, although angular, seemed to possess grace. +Poverty, when partially shrouded, seldom fails to interest: witness +the statue of the Veiled Beggar, by Monti. + +"In what manner was your father hurt?" I asked, in a tone +considerably softened from the one in which I put my first +question. + +"He blew himself up, sir, and is terribly wounded." + +"Ah! He is in some factory, then?" + +"No, sir, he is a chemist." + +"A chemist? Why, he is a brother professional. Wait an instant, +and I will slip on my coat and go with you. Do you live far from +here?" + +"In the Seventh Avenue, not more than two blocks from the end of +this street." + +"So much the better. We will be with him in a few minutes. Did +you leave anyone in attendance on him?" + +"No, sir. He will allow no one but myself to enter his laboratory. +And, injured as he is, I could not induce him to quit it." + +"Indeed! He is engaged in some great research, perhaps? I have +known such cases." + +We were passing under a lamp-post, and the woman suddenly turned +and glared at me with a look of such wild terror that for an +instant I involuntarily glanced round me under the impression that +some terrible peril, unseen by me, was menacing us both. + +"Don't--don't ask me any questions," she said breathlessly. "He +will tell you all. But do, oh, do hasten! Good God! he may be +dead by this time!" + +I made no reply, but allowed her to grasp my hand, which she did +with a bony, nervous clutch, and endeavored with some difficulty to +keep pace with the long strides--I might well call them bounds, for +they seemed the springs of a wild animal rather than the paces of a +young girl--with which she covered the ground. Not a word more was +uttered until we stopped before a shabby, old-fashioned tenement +house in the Seventh Avenue, not far above Twenty-third Street. +She pushed the door open with a convulsive pressure, and, still +retaining hold of my hand, literally dragged me upstairs to what +seemed to be a back offshoot from the main building, as high, +perhaps, as the fourth story. In a moment more I found myself in a +moderate-sized chamber, lit by a single lamp. In one corner, +stretched motionless on a wretched pallet bed, I beheld what I +supposed to be the figure of my patient. + +"He is there," said the girl; "go to him. See if he is dead--I +dare not look." + +I made my way as well as I could through the numberless dilapidated +chemical instruments with which the room was littered. A French +chafing dish supported on an iron tripod had been overturned, and +was lying across the floor, while the charcoal, still warm, was +scattered around in various directions. Crucibles, alembics, and +retorts were confusedly piled in various corners, and on a small +table I saw distributed in separate bottles a number of mineral and +metallic substances, which I recognized as antimony, mercury, +plumbago, arsenic, borax, etc. It was veritably the apartment of a +poor chemist. All the apparatus had the air of being second-hand. +There was no luster of exquisitely annealed glass and highly +polished metals, such as dazzles one in the laboratory of the +prosperous analyst. The makeshifts of poverty were everywhere +visible. The crucibles were broken, or gallipots were used instead +of crucibles. The colored tests were not in the usual transparent +vials, but were placed in ordinary black bottles. There is nothing +more melancholy than to behold science or art in distress. A +threadbare scholar, a tattered book, or a battered violin is a mute +appeal to our sympathy. + +I approached the wretched pallet bed on which the victim of +chemistry was lying. He breathed heavily, and had his head turned +toward the wall. I lifted his arm gently to arouse his attention. +"How goes it, my poor friend?" I asked him. "Where are you hurt?" + +In a moment, as if startled by the sound of my voice, he sprang up +in his bed, and cowered against the wall like a wild animal driven +to bay. "Who are you? I don't know you. Who brought you here? +You are a stranger. How dare you come into my private rooms to spy +upon me?" + +And as he uttered this rapidly with a frightful nervous energy, I +beheld a pale distorted face, draped with long gray hair, glaring +at me with a mingled expression of fury and terror. + +"I am no spy," I answered mildly. "I heard that you had met with +an accident, and have come to cure you. I am Dr. Luxor, and here +is my card." + +The old man took the card, and scanned it eagerly. "You are a +physician?" he inquired distrustfully. + +"And surgeon also." + +"You are bound by oath not to reveal the secrets of your patients." + +"Undoubtedly." + +"I am afraid that I am hurt," he continued faintly, half sinking +back in the bed. + +I seized the opportunity to make a brief examination of his body. +I found that the arms, a part of the chest, and a part of the face +were terribly scorched; but it seemed to me that there was nothing +to be apprehended but pain. + +"You will not reveal anything that you may learn here?" said the +old man, feebly fixing his eyes on my face while I was applying a +soothing ointment to the burns. "You will promise me." + +I nodded assent. + +"Then I will trust you. Cure me--I will pay you well." + +I could scarce help smiling. If Lorenzo de' Medici, conscious of +millions of ducats in his coffers, had been addressing some leech +of the period, he could not have spoken with a loftier air than +this inhabitant of the fourth story of a tenement house in the +Seventh Avenue. + +"You must keep quiet," I answered. "Let nothing irritate you. I +will leave a composing draught with your daughter, which she will +give you immediately. I will see you in the morning. You will be +well in a week." + +"Thank God!" came in a murmur from a dusk corner near the door. I +turned, and beheld the dim outline of the girl, standing with +clasped hands in the gloom of the dim chamber. + +"My daughter!" screamed the old man, once more leaping up in the +bed with renewed vitality. "You have seen her, then? When? +Where? Oh, may a thousand cur--" + +"Father! father! Anything--anything but that. Don't, don't curse +me!" And the poor girl, rushing in, flung herself sobbing on her +knees beside his pallet. + +"Ah, brigand! You are there, are you? Sir," said he, turning to +me, "I am the most unhappy man in the world. Talk of Sisyphus +rolling the ever-recoiling stone--of Prometheus gnawed by the +vulture since the birth of time. The fables yet live. There is my +rock, forever crushing me back! there is my eternal vulture, +feeding upon my heart! There! there! there!" And, with an awful +gesture of malediction and hatred, he pointed with his wounded +hand, swathed and shapeless with bandages, at the cowering, +sobbing, wordless woman by his side. + +I was too much horror-stricken to attempt even to soothe him. The +anger of blood against blood has an electric power which paralyzes +bystanders. + +"Listen to me, sir," he continued, "while I skin this painted +viper. I have your oath; you will not reveal. I am an alchemist, +sir. Since I was twenty-two years old, I have pursued the +wonderful and subtle secret. Yes, to unfold the mysterious Rose +guarded with such terrible thorns; to decipher the wondrous Table +of Emerald; to accomplish the mystic nuptials of the Red King and +the White Queen; to marry them soul to soul and body to body, +forever and ever, in the exact proportions of land and water--such +has been my sublime aim, such has been the splendid feat that I +have accomplished." + +I recognized at a glance, in this incomprehensible farrago, the +argot of the true alchemist. Ripley, Flamel, and others have +supplied the world, in their works, with the melancholy spectacle +of a scientific bedlam. + +"Two years since," continued the poor man, growing more and more +excited with every word that he uttered--"two years since, I +succeeded in solving the great problem--in transmuting the baser +metals into gold. None but myself, that girl, and God knows the +privations I had suffered up to that time. Food, clothing, air, +exercise, everything but shelter, was sacrificed toward the one +great end. Success at last crowned my labors. That which Nicholas +Flamel did in 1382, that which George Ripley did at Rhodes in 1460, +that which Alexander Sethon and Michael Scudivogius did in the +seventeenth century, I did in 1856. I made gold! I said to +myself, 'I will astonish New York more than Flamel did Paris.' He +was a poor copyist, and suddenly launched into magnificence. I had +scarce a rag to my back: I would rival the Medicis. I made gold +every day. I toiled night and morning; for I must tell you that I +never was able to make more than a certain quantity at a time, and +that by a process almost entirely dissimilar to those hinted at in +those books of alchemy I had hitherto consulted. But I had no +doubt that facility would come with experience, and that ere long I +should be able to eclipse in wealth the richest sovereigns of the +earth. + +"So I toiled on. Day after day I gave to this girl here what gold +I succeeded in fabricating, telling her to store it away after +supplying our necessities. I was astonished to perceive that we +lived as poorly as ever. I reflected, however, that it was perhaps +a commendable piece of prudence on the part of my daughter. +Doubtless, I said, she argues that the less we spend the sooner we +shall accumulate a capital wherewith to live at ease; so, thinking +her course a wise one, I did not reproach her with her +niggardliness, but toiled on, amid want, with closed lips. + +"The gold which I fabricated was, as I said before, of an +invariable size, namely, a little ingot worth perhaps thirty or +forty-five dollars. In two years I calculated that I had made five +hundred of these ingots, which, rated at an average of thirty +dollars apiece, would amount to the gross sum of fifteen thousand +dollars. After deducting our slight expenses for two years, we +ought to have had nearly fourteen thousand dollars left. It was +time, I thought, to indemnify myself for my years of suffering, and +surround my child and myself with such moderate comforts as our +means allowed. I went to my daughter and explained to her that I +desired to make an encroachment upon our little hoard. To my utter +amazement, she burst into tears, and told me that she had not got a +dollar--that all of our wealth had been stolen from her. Almost +overwhelmed by this new misfortune, I in vain endeavored to +discover from her in what manner our savings had been plundered. +She could afford me no explanation beyond what I might gather from +an abundance of sobs and a copious flow of tears. + +"It was a bitter blow, doctor, but nil desperandum was my motto, so +I went to work at my crucible again, with redoubled energy, and +made an ingot nearly every second day. I determined this time to +put them in some secure place myself; but the very first day I set +my apparatus in order for the projection, the girl Marion--that is +my daughter's name--came weeping to me and implored me to allow her +to take care of our treasure. I refused decisively, saying that, +having found her already incapable of filling the trust, I could +place no faith in her again. But she persisted, clung to my neck, +threatened to abandon me; in short, used so many of the bad but +irresistible arguments known to women that I had not the heart to +refuse her. She has since that time continued to take the ingots. + +"Yet you behold," continued the old alchemist, casting an +inexpressibly mournful glance around the wretched apartment, "the +way we live. Our food is insufficient and of bad quality; we never +buy clothes; the rent of this hole is a mere nothing. What am I to +think of the wretched girl who plunges me into this misery? Is she +a miser, think you?--or a female gamester?--or--or--does she +squander it riotously in places I know not of? O Doctor, Doctor! +do not blame me if I heap imprecations on her head, for I have +suffered bitterly!" The poor man here closed his eyes and sank +back groaning on his bed. + +This singular narrative excited in me the strangest emotions. I +glanced at the girl Marion, who had been a patient listener to +these horrible accusations of cupidity, and never did I behold a +more angelic air of resignation than beamed over her countenance. +It was impossible that anyone with those pure, limpid eyes; that +calm, broad forehead; that childlike mouth, could be such a monster +of avarice or deceit as the old man represented. The truth was +plain enough: the alchemist was mad--what alchemist was there ever +who was not?--and his insanity had taken this terrible shape. I +felt an inexpressible pity move my heart for this poor girl, whose +youth was burdened with such an awful sorrow. + +"What is your name?" I asked the old man, taking his tremulous, +fevered hand in mine. + +"William Blakelock," he answered. "I come of an old Saxon stock, +sir, that bred true men and women in former days. God! how did it +ever come to pass that such a one as that girl ever sprung from our +line?" The glance of loathing and contempt that he cast at her +made me shudder. + +"May you not be mistaken in your daughter?" I said, very mildly. +"Delusions with regard to alchemy are, or have been, very common--" + +"What, sir?" cried the old man, bounding in his bed. "What? Do +you doubt that gold can be made? Do you know, sir, that M. C. +Theodore Tiffereau made gold at Paris in the year 1854 in the +presence of M. Levol, the assayer of the Imperial Mint, and the +result of the experiments was read before the Academy of Sciences +on the sixteenth of October of the same year? But stay; you shall +have better proof yet. I will pay you with one of my ingots, and +you shall attend me until I am well. Get me an ingot!" + +This last command was addressed to Marion, who was still kneeling +close to her father's bedside. I observed her with some curiosity +as this mandate was issued. She became very pale, clasped her +hands convulsively, but neither moved nor made any reply. + +"Get me an ingot, I say!" reiterated the alchemist passionately. + +She fixed her large eyes imploringly upon him. Her lips quivered, +and two huge tears rolled slowly down her white cheeks. + +"Obey me, wretched girl," cried the old man in an agitated voice, +"or I swear, by all that I reverence in heaven and earth, that I +will lay my curse upon you forever!" + +I felt for an instant that I ought perhaps to interfere, and spare +the girl the anguish that she was so evidently suffering; but a +powerful curiosity to see how this strange scene would terminate +withheld me. + +The last threat of her father, uttered as it was with a terrible +vehemence, seemed to appall Marion. She rose with a sudden leap, +as if a serpent had stung her, and, rushing into an inner +apartment, returned with a small object which she placed in my +hand, and then flung herself in a chair in a distant corner of the +room, weeping bitterly. + +"You see--you see," said the old man sarcastically, "how +reluctantly she parts with it. Take it, sir; it is yours." + +It was a small bar of metal. I examined it carefully, poised it in +my hand--the color, weight, everything, announced that it really +was gold. + +"You doubt its genuineness, perhaps," continued the alchemist. +"There are acids on yonder table--test it." + +I confess that I DID doubt its genuineness; but after I had acted +upon the old man's suggestion, all further suspicion was rendered +impossible. It was gold of the highest purity. I was astounded. +Was then, after all, this man's tale a truth? Was his daughter, +that fair, angelic-looking creature, a demon of avarice, or a slave +to worse passions? I felt bewildered. I had never met with +anything so incomprehensible. I looked from father to daughter in +the blankest amazement. I suppose that my countenance betrayed my +astonishment, for the old man said: "I perceive that you are +surprised. Well, that is natural. You had a right to think me mad +until I proved myself sane." + +"But, Mr. Blakelock," I said, "I really cannot take this gold. I +have no right to it. I cannot in justice charge so large a fee." + +"Take it--take it," he answered impatiently; "your fee will amount +to that before I am well. Besides," he added mysteriously, "I wish +to secure your friendship. I wish that you should protect me from +her," and he pointed his poor, bandaged hand at Marion. + +My eyes followed his gesture, and I caught the glance that replied-- +a glance of horror, distrust, despair. The beautiful face was +distorted into positive ugliness. + +"It's all true," I thought; "she is the demon that her father +represents her." + +I now rose to go. This domestic tragedy sickened me. This +treachery of blood against blood was too horrible to witness. I +wrote a prescription for the old man, left directions as to the +renewal of the dressings upon his burns, and, bidding him good +night, hastened toward the door. + +While I was fumbling on the dark, crazy landing for the staircase, +I felt a hand laid on my arm. + +"Doctor," whispered a voice that I recognized as Marion +Blakelock's, "Doctor, have you any compassion in your heart?" + +"I hope so," I answered shortly, shaking off her hand; her touch +filled me with loathing. + +"Hush! don't talk so loud. If you have any pity in your nature, +give me back, I entreat of you, that gold ingot which my father +gave you this evening." + +"Great heaven!" said I, "can it be possible that so fair a woman +can be such a mercenary, shameless wretch?" + +"Ah! you know not--I cannot tell you! Do not judge me harshly. I +call God to witness that I am not what you deem me. Some day or +other you will know. But," she added, interrupting herself, "the +ingot--where is it? I must have it. My life depends on your +giving it to me." + +"Take it, impostor!" I cried, placing it in her hand, that closed +on it with a horrible eagerness. "I never intended to keep it. +Gold made under the same roof that covers such as you must be +accursed." + +So saying, heedless of the nervous effort she made to detain me, I +stumbled down the stairs and walked hastily home. + +The next morning, while I was in my office, smoking my matutinal +cigar, and speculating over the singular character of my +acquaintances of last night, the door opened, and Marion Blakelock +entered. She had the same look of terror that I had observed the +evening before, and she panted as if she had been running fast. + +"Father has got out of bed," she gasped out, "and insists on going +on with his alchemy. Will it kill him?" + +"Not exactly," I answered coldly. "It were better that he kept +quiet, so as to avoid the chance of inflammation. However, you +need not be alarmed; his burns are not at all dangerous, although +painful." + +"Thank God! thank God!" she cried, in the most impassioned accents; +and, before I was aware of what she was doing, she seized my hand +and kissed it. + +"There, that will do," I said, withdrawing my hand; "you are under +no obligations to me. You had better go back to your father." + +"I can't go," she answered. "You despise me--is it not so?" + +I made no reply. + +"You think me a monster--a criminal. When you went home last +night, you were wonderstruck that so vile a creature as I should +have so fair a face." + +"You embarrass me, madam," I said, in a most chilling tone. "Pray +relieve me from this unpleasant position." + +"Wait. I cannot bear that you should think ill of me. You are +good and kind, and I desire to possess your esteem. You little +know how I love my father." + +I could not restrain a bitter smile. + +"You do not believe that? Well, I will convince you. I have had a +hard struggle all last night with myself, but am now resolved. +This life of deceit must continue no longer. Will you hear my +vindication?" + +I assented. The wonderful melody of her voice and the purity of +her features were charming me once more. I half believed in her +innocence already. + +"My father has told you a portion of his history. But he did not +tell you that his continued failures in his search after the secret +of metallic transmutation nearly killed him. Two years ago he was +on the verge of the grave, working every day at his mad pursuit, +and every day growing weaker and more emaciated. I saw that if his +mind was not relieved in some way he would die. The thought was +madness to me, for I loved him--I love him still, as a daughter +never loved a father before. During all these years of poverty I +had supported the house with my needle; it was hard work, but I did +it--I do it still!" + +"What?" I cried, startled, "does not--" + +"Patience. Hear me out. My father was dying of disappointment. I +must save him. By incredible exertions, working night and day, I +saved about thirty-five dollars in notes. These I exchanged for +gold, and one day, when my father was not looking, I cast them into +the crucible in which he was making one of his vain attempts at +transmutation. God, I am sure, will pardon the deception. I never +anticipated the misery it would lead to. + +"I never beheld anything like the joy of my poor father, when, +after emptying his crucible, he found a deposit of pure gold at the +bottom. He wept, and danced, and sang, and built such castles in +the air, that my brain was dizzy to hear him. He gave me the ingot +to keep, and went to work at his alchemy with renewed vigor. The +same thing occurred. He always found the same quantity of gold in +his crucible. I alone knew the secret. He was happy, poor man, +for nearly two years, in the belief that he was amassing a fortune. +I all the while plied my needle for our daily bread. When he asked +me for the savings, the first stroke fell upon me. Then it was +that I recognized the folly of my conduct. I could give him no +money. I never had any--while he believed that I had fourteen +thousand dollars. My heart was nearly broken when I found that he +had conceived the most injurious suspicions against me. Yet I +could not blame him. I could give no account of the treasure I had +permitted him to believe was in my possession. I must suffer the +penalty of my fault, for to undeceive him would be, I felt, to kill +him. I remained silent then, and suffered. + +"You know the rest. You now know why it was that I was reluctant +to give you that ingot--why it was that I degraded myself so far as +to ask it back. It was the only means I had of continuing a +deception on which I believed my father's life depended. But that +delusion has been dispelled. I can live this life of hypocrisy no +longer. I cannot exist and hear my father, whom I love so, wither +me daily with his curses. I will undeceive him this very day. +Will you come with me, for I fear the effect on his enfeebled +frame?" + +"Willingly," I answered, taking her by the hand; "and I think that +no absolute danger need be apprehended. Now, Marion," I added, +"let me ask forgiveness for having even for a moment wounded so +noble a heart. You are truly as great a martyr as any of those +whose sufferings the Church perpetuates in altar-pieces." + +"I knew you would do me justice when you knew all," she sobbed, +pressing my hand; "but come. I am on fire. Let us hasten to my +father, and break this terror to him." + +When we reached the old alchemist's room, we found him busily +engaged over a crucible which was placed on a small furnace, and in +which some indescribable mixture was boiling. He looked up as we +entered. + +"No fear of me, doctor," he said, with a ghastly smile, "no fear; I +must not allow a little physical pain to interrupt my great work, +you know. By the way, you are just in time. In a few moments the +marriage of the Red King and White Queen will be accomplished, as +George Ripley calls the great act, in his book entitled 'The Twelve +Gates.' Yes, doctor, in less than ten minutes you will see me make +pure, red, shining gold!" And the poor old man smiled +triumphantly, and stirred his foolish mixture with a long rod, +which he held with difficulty in his bandaged hands. It was a +grievous sight for a man of any feeling to witness. + +"Father," said Marion, in a low, broken voice, advancing a little +toward the poor old dupe, "I want your forgiveness." + +"Ah, hypocrite! for what? Are you going to give me back my gold?" + +"No, father, but for the deception that I have been practicing on +you for two years--" + +"I knew it! I knew it!" shouted the old man, with a radiant +countenance. "She has concealed my fourteen thousand dollars all +this time, and now comes to restore them. I will forgive her. +Where are they, Marion?" + +"Father--it must come out. You never made any gold. It was I who +saved up thirty-five dollars, and I used to slip them into your +crucible when your back was turned--and I did it only because I saw +that you were dying of disappointment. It was wrong, I know--but, +father, I meant well. You'll forgive me, won't you?" And the poor +girl advanced a step toward the alchemist. + +He grew deathly pale, and staggered as if about to fall. The next +instant, though, he recovered himself, and burst into a horrible +sardonic laugh. Then he said, in tones full of the bitterest +irony: "A conspiracy, is it? Well done, doctor! You think to +reconcile me with this wretched girl by trumping up this story that +I have been for two years a dupe of her filial piety. It's clumsy, +doctor, and is a total failure. Try again." + +"But I assure you, Mr. Blakelock," I said as earnestly as I could, +"I believe your daughter's statement to be perfectly true. You +will find it to be so, as she has got the ingot in her possession +which so often deceived you into the belief that you made gold, and +you will certainly find that no transmutation has taken place in +your crucible." + +"Doctor," said the old man, in tones of the most settled +conviction, "you are a fool. The girl has wheedled you. In less +than a minute I will turn you out a piece of gold purer than any +the earth produces. Will that convince you?" + +"That will convince me," I answered. By a gesture I imposed +silence on Marion, who was about to speak. I thought it better to +allow the old man to be his own undeceiver--and we awaited the +coming crisis. + +The old man, still smiling with anticipated triumph, kept bending +eagerly over his crucible, stirring the mixture with his rod, and +muttering to himself all the time. "Now," I heard him say, "it +changes. There--there's the scum. And now the green and bronze +shades flit across it. Oh, the beautiful green! the precursor of +the golden-red hue that tells of the end attained! Ah! now the +golden-red is coming--slowly--slowly! It deepens, it shines, it is +dazzling! Ah, I have it!" So saying, he caught up his crucible in +a chemist's tongs, and bore it slowly toward the table on which +stood a brass vessel. + +"Now, incredulous doctor!" he cried, "come and be convinced," and +immediately began carefully pouring the contents of the crucible +into the brass vessel. When the crucible was quite empty he turned +it up and called me again. "Come, doctor, come and be convinced. +See for yourself." + +"See first if there is any gold in your crucible," I answered, +without moving. + +He laughed, shook his head derisively, and looked into the +crucible. In a moment he grew pale as death. + +"Nothing!" he cried. "Oh, a jest, a jest! There must be gold +somewhere. Marion!" + +"The gold is here, father," said Marion, drawing the ingot from her +pocket; "it is all we ever had." + +"Ah!" shrieked the poor old man, as he let the empty crucible fall, +and staggered toward the ingot which Marion held out to him. He +made three steps, and then fell on his face. Marion rushed toward +him, and tried to lift him, but could not. I put her aside gently, +and placed my hand on his heart. + +"Marion," said I, "it is perhaps better as it is. He is dead!" + + + +Fitzjames O'Brien + + +My Wife's Tempter + +I + +A PREDESTINED MARRIAGE + +Elsie and I were to be married in less than a week. It was rather +a strange match, and I knew that some of our neighbors shook their +heads over it and said that no good would come. The way it came to +pass was thus. + +I loved Elsie Burns for two years, during which time she refused me +three times. I could no more help asking her to have me, when the +chance offered, than I could help breathing or living. To love her +seemed natural to me as existence. I felt no shame, only sorrow, +when she rejected me; I felt no shame either when I renewed my +suit. The neighbors called me mean-spirited to take up with any +girl that had refused me as often as Elsie Burns had done; but what +cared I about the neighbors? If it is black weather, and the sun +is under a cloud every day for a month, is that any reason why the +poor farmer should not hope for the blue sky and the plentiful +burst of warm light when the dark month is over? I never entirely +lost heart. Do not, however, mistake me. I did not mope, and +moan, and grow pale, after the manner of poetical lovers. No such +thing. I went bravely about my business, ate and drank as usual, +laughed when the laugh went round, and slept soundly, and woke +refreshed. Yet all this time I loved--desperately loved--Elsie +Burns. I went wherever I hoped to meet her, but did not haunt her +with my attentions. I behaved to her as any friendly young man +would have behaved: I met her and parted from her cheerfully. She +was a good girl, too, and behaved well. She had me in her power-- +how a woman in Elsie's situation could have mortified a man in +mine!--but she never took the slightest advantage of it. She +danced with me when I asked her, and had no foolish fears of +allowing me to see her home of nights, after a ball was over, or of +wandering with me through the pleasant New England fields when the +wild flowers made the paths like roads in fairyland. + +On the several disastrous occasions when I presented my suit I did +it simply and manfully, telling her that I loved her very much, and +would do everything to make her happy if she would be my wife. I +made no fulsome protestations, and did not once allude to suicide. +She, on the other hand, calmly and gravely thanked me for my good +opinion, but with the same calm gravity rejected me. I used to +tell her that I was grieved; that I would not press her; that I +would wait and hope for some change in her feelings. She had an +esteem for me, she would say, but could not marry me. I never +asked her for any reasons. I hold it to be an insult to a woman of +sense to demand her reasons on such an occasion. Enough for me +that she did not then wish to be my wife; so that the old +intercourse went on--she cordial and polite as ever, I never for +one moment doubting that the day would come when my roof tree would +shelter her, and we should smile together over our fireside at my +long and indefatigable wooing. + +I will confess that at times I felt a little jealous--jealous of a +man named Hammond Brake, who lived in our village. He was a weird, +saturnine fellow, who made no friends among the young men of the +neighborhood, but who loved to go alone, with his books and his own +thoughts for company. He was a studious and, I believe, a learned +young man, and there was no avoiding the fact that he possessed +considerable influence over Elsie. She liked to talk with him in +corners, or in secluded nooks of the forest, when we all went out +blackberry gathering or picnicking. She read books that he gave +her, and whenever a discussion arose relative to any topic higher +than those ordinary ones we usually canvassed, Elsie appealed to +Brake for his opinion, as a disciple consulting a beloved master. +I confess that for a time I feared this man as a rival. A little +closer observation, however, convinced me that my suspicions were +unfounded. The relations between Elsie and Hammond Brake were +purely intellectual. She reverenced his talents and acquirements, +but she did not love him. His influence over her, nevertheless, +was none the less decided. + +In time--as I thought all along--Elsie yielded. I was what was +considered a most eligible match, being tolerably rich, and Elsie's +parents were most anxious to have me for a son-in-law. I was good- +looking and well educated enough, and the old people, I believe, +pertinaciously dinned all my advantages into my little girl's ears. +She battled against the marriage for a long time with a strange +persistence--all the more strange because she never alleged the +slightest personal dislike to me; but after a vigorous cannonading +from her own garrison (in which, I am proud to say, I did not in +any way join), she hoisted the white flag and surrendered. + +I was very happy. I had no fear about being able to gain Elsie's +heart. I think--indeed I know--that she had liked me all along, +and that her refusals were dictated by other feelings than those of +a personal nature. I only guessed as much then. It was some time +before I knew all. + +As the day approached for our wedding Elsie did not appear at all +stricken with woe. The village gossips had not the smallest +opportunity for establishing a romance, with a compulsory bride for +the heroine. Yet to me it seemed as if there was something strange +about her. A vague terror appeared to beset her. Even in her most +loving moments, when resting in my arms, she would shrink away from +me, and shudder as if some cold wind had suddenly struck upon her. +That it was caused by no aversion to me was evident, for she would +the moment after, as if to make amends, give me one of those +voluntary kisses that are sweeter than all others. + +Once only did she show any emotion. When the solemn question was +put to her, the answer to which was to decide her destiny, I felt +her hand--which was in mine--tremble. As she gasped out a +convulsive "Yes," she gave one brief, imploring glance at the +gallery on the right. I placed the ring upon her finger, and +looked in the direction in which she gazed. Hammond Brake's dark +countenance was visible looking over the railings, and his eyes +were bent sternly on Elsie. I turned quickly round to my bride, +but her brief emotion, of whatever nature, had vanished. She was +looking at me anxiously, and smiling--somewhat sadly--through her +maiden's tears. + +The months went by quickly, and we were very happy. I learned that +Elsie really loved me, and of my love for her she had proof long +ago. I will not say that there was no cloud upon our little +horizon. There was one, but it was so small, and appeared so +seldom, that I scarcely feared it. The old vague terror seemed +still to attack my wife. If I did not know her to be pure as +heaven's snow, I would have said it was a REMORSE. At times she +scarcely appeared to hear what I said, so deep would be her +reverie. Nor did those moods seem pleasant ones. When rapt in +such, her sweet features would contract, as if in a hopeless effort +to solve some mysterious problem. A sad pain, as it were, quivered +in her white, drooped eyelids. One thing I particularly remarked: +SHE SPENT HOURS AT A TIME GAZING AT THE WEST. There was a small +room in our house whose windows, every evening, flamed with the red +light of the setting sun. Here Elsie would sit and gaze westward, +so motionless and entranced that it seemed as if her soul was going +down with the day. Her conduct to me was curiously varied. She +apparently loved me very much, yet there were times when she +absolutely avoided me. I have seen her strolling through the +fields, and left the house with the intention of joining her, but +the moment she caught sight of me approaching she has fled into the +neighboring copse, with so evident a wish to avoid me that it would +have been absolutely cruel to follow. + +Once or twice the old jealousy of Hammond Brake crossed my mind, +but I was obliged to dismiss it as a frivolous suspicion. Nothing +in my wife's conduct justified any such theory. Brake visited us +once or twice a week--in fact, when I returned from my business in +the village, I used to find him seated in the parlor with Elsie, +reading some favorite author, or conversing on some novel literary +topic; but there was no disposition to avoid my scrutiny. Brake +seemed to come as a matter of right; and the perfect +unconsciousness of furnishing any grounds for suspicion with which +he acted was a sufficient answer to my mind for any wild doubts +that my heart may have suggested. + +Still I could not but remark that Brake's visits were in some +manner connected with Elsie's melancholy. On the days when he had +appeared and departed, the gloom seemed to hang more thickly than +ever over her head. She sat, on such occasions, all the evening at +the western window, silently gazing at the cleft in the hills +through which the sun passed to his repose. + +At last I made up my mind to speak to her. It seemed to me to be +my duty, if she had a sorrow, to partake of it. I approached her +on the matter with the most perfect confidence that I had nothing +to learn beyond the existence of some girlish grief, which a +confession and a few loving kisses would exorcise forever. + +"Elsie," I said to her one night, as she sat, according to her +custom, gazing westward, like those maidens of the old ballads of +chivalry watching for the knights that never came--"Elsie, what is +the matter with you, darling? I have noticed a strange melancholy +in you for some time past. Tell me all about it." + +She turned quickly round and gazed at me with eyes wide open and +face filled with a sudden fear. "Why do you ask me that, Mark?" +she answered. "I have nothing to tell." + +From the strange, startled manner in which this reply was given, I +felt convinced that she had something to tell, and instantly formed +a determination to discover what it was. A pang shot through my +heart as I thought that the woman whom I held dearer than anything +on earth hesitated to trust me with a petty secret. + +I believed I understood. I was tolerably rich. I knew it could +not be any secret over milliners' bills or women's usual money +troubles. God help me! I felt sad enough at the moment, though I +kissed her back and ceased to question her. I felt sad, because my +instinct told me that she deceived me; and it is very hard to be +deceived, even in trifles, by those we love. I left her sitting at +her favorite window, and walked out into the fields. I wanted to +think. + +I remained out until I saw lights in the parlor shining through the +dusky evening; then I returned slowly. As I passed the windows-- +which were near the ground, our house being cottage-built--I looked +in. Hammond Brake was sitting with my wife. She was sitting in a +rocking chair opposite to him, holding a small volume open on her +lap. Brake was talking to her very earnestly, and she was +listening to him with an expression I had never before seen on her +countenance. Awe, fear, and admiration were all blent together in +those dilating eyes. She seemed absorbed, body and soul, in what +this man said. I shuddered at the sight. A vague terror seized +upon me; I hastened into the house. As I entered the room rather +suddenly, my wife started and hastily concealed the little volume +that lay on her lap in one of her wide pockets. As she did so, a +loose leaf escaped from the volume and slowly fluttered to the +floor unobserved by either her or her companion. But I had my eye +upon it. I felt that it was a clew. + +"What new novel or philosophical wonder have you both been poring +over?" I asked quite gayly, stealthily watching at the same time +the telltale embarrassment under which Elsie was laboring. + +Brake, who was not in the least discomposed, replied. "That," said +he, "is a secret which must be kept from you. It is an advance +copy, and is not to be shown to anyone except your wife." + +"Ha!" cried I, "I know what it is. It is your volume of poems that +Ticknor is publishing. Well, I can wait until it is regularly for +sale." + +I knew that Brake had a volume in the hands of the publishing house +I mentioned, with a vague promise of publication some time in the +present century. Hammond smiled significantly, but did not reply. +He evidently wished to cultivate this supposed impression of mine. +Elsie looked relieved, and heaved a deep sigh. I felt more than +ever convinced that a secret was beneath all this. So I drew my +chair over the fallen leaf that lay unnoticed on the carpet, and +talked and laughed with Hammond Brake gayly, as if nothing was on +my mind, while all the time a great load of suspicion lay heavily +at my heart. + +At length Hammond Brake rose to go. I wished him good night, but +did not offer to accompany him to the door. My wife supplied this +omitted courtesy, as I had expected. The moment I was alone I +picked up the book leaf from the floor. It was NOT the leaf of a +volume of poems. Beyond that, however, I learned nothing. It +contained a string of paragraphs printed in the biblical fashion, +and the language was biblical in style. It seemed to be a portion +of some religious book. Was it possible that my wife was being +converted to the Romish faith? Yes, that was it. Brake was a +Jesuit in disguise--I had heard of such things--and had stolen into +the bosom of my family to plant there his destructive errors. +There could be no longer any doubt of it. This was some portion of +a Romish book--some infamous Popish publication. Fool that I was +not to see it all before! But there was yet time. I would forbid +him the house. + +I had just formed this resolution when my wife entered. I put the +strange leaf in my pocket and took my hat. + +"Why, you are not going out, surely?" cried Elsie, surprised. + +"I have a headache," I answered. "I will take a short walk." + +Elsie looked at me with a peculiar air of distrust. Her woman's +instinct told her that there was something wrong. Before she could +question me, however, I had left the room and was walking rapidly +on Hammond Brake's track. + +He heard the footsteps, and I saw his figure, black against the +sky, stop and peer back through the dusk to see who was following +him. + +"It is I, Brake," I called out. "Stop; I wish to speak with you." + +He stopped, and in a minute or so we were walking side by side +along the road. My fingers itched at that moment to be on his +throat. I commenced the conversation. + +"Brake," I said, "I'm a very plain sort of man, and I never say +anything without good reason. What I came after you to tell you +is, that I don't wish you to come to my house any more, or to speak +with Elsie any farther than the ordinary salutations go. It's no +joke. I'm quite in earnest." + +Brake started, and, stopping short, faced me suddenly in the road. +"What have I done?" he asked. "You surely are too sensible a man +to be jealous, Dayton." + +"Oh," I answered scornfully, "not jealous in the ordinary sense of +the word, a bit. But I don't think your company good company for +my wife, Brake. If you WILL have it out of me, I suspect you of +being a Roman Catholic, and of trying to convert my wife." + +A smile shot across his face, and I saw his sharp white teeth gleam +for an instant in the dusk. + +"Well, what if I am a Papist?" he said, with a strange tone of +triumph in his voice. "The faith is not criminal. Besides, what +proof have you that I was attempting to proselyte your wife?" + +"This," said I, pulling the leaf from my pocket--"this leaf from +one of those devilish Papist books you and she were reading this +evening. I picked it up from the floor. Proof enough, I think!" + +In an instant Brake had snatched the leaf from my hand and torn it +into atoms. + +"You shall be obeyed," he said. "I will not speak with Elsie as +long as she is your wife. Good night. You think I'm a Papist, +then, Dayton? You're a clever fellow!" + +And with rather a sneering chuckle he marched on along the road and +vanished into the darkness. + + +II + +THE SECRET DISCOVERED + + +Brake came no more. I said nothing to Elsie about his prohibition, +and his name was never mentioned. It seemed strange to me that she +should not speak of his absence, and I was very much puzzled by her +silence. Her moodiness seemed to have increased, and, what was +most remarkable, in proportion as she grew more and more reserved, +the intenser were the bursts of affection which she exhibited for +me. She would strain me to her bosom and kiss me, as if she and I +were about to be parted forever. Then for hours she would remain +sitting at her window, silently gazing, with that terrible, wistful +gaze of hers, at the west. + +I will confess to having watched my wife at this time. I could not +help it. That some mystery hung about her I felt convinced. I +must fathom it or die. Her honor I never for a moment doubted; yet +there seemed to weigh continually upon me the prophecy of some +awful domestic calamity. This time the prophecy was not in vain. + +About three weeks after I had forbidden Brake my house, I was +strolling over my farm in the evening apparently inspecting my +agriculture, but in reality speculating on that topic which +latterly was ever present to me. + +There was a little knoll covered with evergreen oaks at the end of +the lawn. It was a picturesque spot, for on one side the bank went +off into a sheer precipice of about eighty feet in depth, at the +bottom of which a pretty pool lay, that in the summer time was +fringed with white water-lilies. I had thought of building a +summer-house in this spot, and now my steps mechanically directed +themselves toward the place. As I approached I heard voices. I +stopped and listened eagerly. A few seconds enabled me to +ascertain that Hammond Brake and my wife were in the copse talking +together. She still followed him, then; and he, scoundrel that he +was, had broken his promise. A fury seemed to fill my veins as I +made this discovery. I felt the impulse strong upon me to rush +into the grove, and then and there strangle the villain who was +poisoning my peace. But with a powerful effort I restrained +myself. It was necessary that I should overhear what was said. I +threw myself flat on the grass, and so glided silently into the +copse until I was completely within earshot. This was what I +heard. + +My wife was sobbing. "So soon--so soon? I--Hammond, give me a +little time!" + +"I cannot, Elsie. My chief orders me to join him. You must +prepare to accompany me." + +"No, no!" murmured Elsie. "He loves me so! And I love him. Our +child, too--how can I rob him of our unborn babe?" + +"Another sheep for our flock," answered Brake solemnly. "Elsie, do +you forget your oath? Are you one of us, or are you a common +hypocrite, who will be of us until the hour of self-sacrifice, and +then fly like a coward? Elsie, you must leave to-night." + +"Ah! my husband, my husband!" sobbed the unhappy woman. + +"You have no husband, woman," cried Brake harshly. "I promised +Dayton not to speak to you as long as you were his wife, but the +vow was annulled before it was made. Your husband in God yet +awaits you. You will yet be blessed with the true spouse." + +"I feel as if I were going to die," cried Elsie. "How can I ever +forsake him--he who was so good to me?" + +"Nonsense! no weakness. He is not worthy of you. Go home and +prepare for your journey. You know where to meet me. I will have +everything ready, and by daybreak there shall be no trace of us +left. Beware of permitting your husband to suspect anything. He +is not very shrewd at such things--he thought I was a Jesuit in +disguise--but we had better be careful. Now go. You have been too +long here already. Bless you, sister." + +A few faint sobs, a rustling of leaves, and I knew that Brake was +alone. I rose, and stepped silently into the open space in which +he stood. His back was toward me. His arms were lifted high over +his head with an exultant gesture, and I could see his profile, as +it slightly turned toward me, illuminated with a smile of scornful +triumph. I put my hand suddenly on his throat from behind, and +flung him on the ground before he could utter a cry. + +"Not a word," I said, unclasping a short-bladed knife which I +carried; "answer my questions, or, by heaven, I will cut your +throat from ear to ear!" + +He looked up into my face with an unflinching eye, and set his lips +as if resolved to suffer all. + +"What are you? Who are you? What object have you in the seduction +of my wife?" + +He smiled, but was silent. + +"Ah! you won't answer. We'll see." + +I pressed the knife slowly against his throat. His face contracted +spasmodically, but although a thin red thread of blood sprang out +along the edge of the blade, Brake remained mute. An idea suddenly +seized me. This sort of death had no terrors for him. I would try +another. There was the precipice. I was twice as powerful as he +was, so I seized him in my arms, and in a moment transported him to +the margin of the steep, smooth cliff, the edge of which was +garnished with the tough stems of the wild vine. He seemed to feel +it was useless to struggle with me, so allowed me passively to roll +him over the edge. When he was suspended in the air, I gave him a +vine stem to cling to and let him go. He swung at a height of +eighty feet, with face upturned and pale. He dared not look down. +I seated myself on the edge of the cliff, and with my knife began +to cut into the thick vine a foot or two above the place of his +grasp. I was correct in my calculation. This terror was too much +for him. As he saw the notch in the vine getting deeper and +deeper, his determination gave way. + +"I'll answer you," he gasped out, gazing at me with starting +eyeballs; "what do you ask?" + +"What are you?" was my question, as I ceased cutting at the stem. + +"A Mormon," was the answer, uttered with a groan. "Take me up. My +hands are slipping. Quick!" + +"And you wanted my wife to follow you to that infernal Salt Lake, +City, I suppose?" + +"For God's sake, release me! I'll quit the place, never to come +back. Do help me up, Dayton--I'm falling!" + +I felt mightily inclined to let the villain drop; but it did not +suit my purpose to be hung for murder, so I swung him back again on +the sward, where he fell panting and exhausted. + +"Will you quit the place to-night?" I said. "You'd better. By +heaven, if you don't, I'll tell all the men in the village, and +we'll lynch you, as sure as your name is Brake." + +"I'll go--I'll go," he groaned. "I swear never to trouble you +again." + +"You ought to be hanged, you villain. Be off!" + +He slunk away through the trees like a beaten dog; and I went home +in a state bordering on despair. I found Elsie crying. She was +sitting by the window as of old. I knew now why she gazed so +constantly at the west. It was her Mecca. Something in my face, I +suppose, told her that I was laboring under great excitement. She +rose startled as soon as I entered the room. + +"Elsie," said I, "I am come to take you home." + +"Home? Why, I AM at home, am I not? What do you mean?" + +"No. This is no longer your home. You have deceived me. You are +a Mormon. I know all. You have become a convert to that apostle +of hell, Brigham Young, and you cannot live with me. I love you +still, Elsie, dearly; but--you must go and live with your father." + + + +Nathaniel Hawthorne + +The Minister's Black Veil + + +A PARABLE[1] + + +[1] Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of York, +Maine, made himself remarkable by the same eccentricity that is +here related of the Reverend Mr. Hooper. In his case, however, +the symbol had a different import. In early life he had +accidentally killed a beloved friend, and from that day till +the hour of his own death, he hid his face from men. + + +The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting-house, pulling +busily at the bell-rope. The old people of the village came +stooping along the street. Children, with bright faces, tripped +merrily beside their parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in the +conscious dignity of their Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors +looked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that the +Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than on week days. When the +throng had mostly streamed into the porch, the sexton began to +toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr. Hooper's door. +The first glimpse of the clergyman's figure was the signal for +the bell to cease its summons. + +"But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?" cried the +sexton in astonishment. + +All within hearing immediately turned about, and beheld the +semblance of Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly his meditative way towards +the meetinghouse. With one accord they started, expressing more +wonder than if some strange minister were coming to dust the +cushions of Mr. Hooper's pulpit. + +"Are you sure it is our parson?" inquired Goodman Gray of the +sexton. + +"Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied the sexton. "He +was to have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute, of Westbury; but +Parson Shute sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a +funeral sermon." + +The cause of so much amazement may appear sufficiently slight. +Mr. Hooper, a gentlemanly person, of about thirty, though still a +bachelor, was dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a careful +wife had starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from his +Sunday's garb. There was but one thing remarkable in his +appearance. Swathed about his forehead, and hanging down over his +face, so low as to be shaken by his breath, Mr. Hooper had on a +black veil. On a nearer view it seemed to consist of two folds of +crape, which entirely concealed his features, except the mouth +and chin, but probably did not intercept his sight, further than +to give a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things. +With this gloomy shade before him, good Mr. Hooper walked onward, +at a slow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat, and looking on the +ground, as is customary with abstracted men, yet nodding kindly to +those of his parishioners who still waited on the meeting-house +steps. But so wonder-struck were they that his greeting hardly +met with a return. + +"I can't really feel as if good Mr. Hooper's face was behind that +piece of crape," said the sexton. + +"I don't like it," muttered an old woman, as she hobbled into the +meeting-house. "He has changed himself into something awful, only +by hiding his face." + +"Our parson has gone mad!" cried Goodman Gray, following him +across the threshold. + +A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had preceded Mr. Hooper +into the meeting-house, and set all the congregation astir. Few +could refrain from twisting their heads towards the door; many +stood upright, and turned directly about; while several little +boys clambered upon the seats, and came down again with a +terrible racket. There was a general bustle, a rustling of the +women's gowns and shuffling of the men's feet, greatly at +variance with that hushed repose which should attend the entrance +of the minister. But Mr. Hooper appeared not to notice the +perturbation of his people. He entered with an almost noiseless +step, bent his head mildly to the pews on each side, and bowed as +he passed his oldest parishioner, a white-haired great grandsire, +who occupied an arm-chair in the centre of the aisle. It was +strange to observe how slowly this venerable man became conscious +of something singular in the appearance of his pastor. He seemed +not fully to partake of the prevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooper +had ascended the stairs, and showed himself in the pulpit, face +to face with his congregation, except for the black veil. That +mysterious emblem was never once withdrawn. It shook with his +measured breath, as he gave out the psalm; it threw its obscurity +between him and the holy page, as he read the Scriptures; and +while he prayed, the veil lay heavily on his uplifted +countenance. Did he seek to hide it from the dread Being whom he +was addressing? + +Such was the effect of this simple piece of crape, that more +than one woman of delicate nerves was forced to leave the +meeting-house. Yet perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost +as fearful a sight to the minister, as his black veil to them. + +Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good preacher, but not an +energetic one: he strove to win his people heavenward by mild, +persuasive influences, rather than to drive them thither by the +thunders of the Word. The sermon which he now delivered was +marked by the same characteristics of style and manner as the +general series of his pulpit oratory. But there was something, +either in the sentiment of the discourse itself, or in the +imagination of the auditors, which made it greatly the most +powerful effort that they had ever heard from their pastor's +lips. It was tinged, rather more darkly than usual, with the +gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper's temperament. The subject had +reference to secret sin, and those sad mysteries which we hide +from our nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal from our own +consciousness, even forgetting that the Omniscient can detect +them. A subtle power was breathed into his words. Each member of +the congregation, the most innocent girl, and the man of hardened +breast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them, behind his +awful veil, and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or +thought. Many spread their clasped hands on their bosoms. There +was nothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said, at least, no +violence; and yet, with every tremor of his melancholy voice, the +hearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. So +sensible were the audience of some unwonted attribute in their +minister, that they longed for a breath of wind to blow aside the +veil, almost believing that a stranger's visage would be +discovered, though the form, gesture, and voice were those of Mr. +Hooper. + +At the close of the services, the people hurried out with +indecorous confusion, eager to communicate their pent-up +amazement, and conscious of lighter spirits the moment they lost +sight of the black veil. Some gathered in little circles, huddled +closely together, with their mouths all whispering in the centre; +some went homeward alone, wrapt in silent meditation; some talked +loudly, and profaned the Sabbath day with ostentatious laughter. +A few shook their sagacious heads, intimating that they could +penetrate the mystery; while one or two affirmed that there was +no mystery at all, but only that Mr. Hooper's eyes were so +weakened by the midnight lamp, as to require a shade. After a +brief interval, forth came good Mr. Hooper also, in the rear of +his flock. Turning his veiled face from one group to another, he +paid due reverence to the hoary heads, saluted the middle aged +with kind dignity as their friend and spiritual guide, greeted +the young with mingled authority and love, and laid his hands on +the little children's heads to bless them. Such was always his +custom on the Sabbath day. Strange and bewildered looks repaid +him for his courtesy. None, as on former occasions, aspired to +the honor of walking by their pastor's side. Old Squire Saunders, +doubtless by an accidental lapse of memory, neglected to invite +Mr. Hooper to his table, where the good clergyman had been wont +to bless the food, almost every Sunday since his settlement. He +returned, therefore, to the parsonage, and, at the moment of +closing the door, was observed to look back upon the people, all +of whom had their eyes fixed upon the minister. A sad smile +gleamed faintly from beneath the black veil, and flickered about +his mouth, glimmering as he disappeared. + +"How strange," said a lady, "that a simple black veil, such as +any woman might wear on her bonnet, should become such a terrible +thing on Mr. Hooper's face!" + +"Something must surely be amiss with Mr. Hooper's intellects," +observed her husband, the physician of the village. "But the +strangest part of the affair is the effect of this vagary, even +on a sober-minded man like myself. The black veil, though it +covers only our pastor's face, throws its influence over his +whole person, and makes him ghostlike from head to foot. Do you +not feel it so?" + +"Truly do I," replied the lady; "and I would not be alone with +him for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with +himself!" + +"Men sometimes are so," said her husband. + +The afternoon service was attended with similar circumstances. At +its conclusion, the bell tolled for the funeral of a young lady. +The relatives and friends were assembled in the house, and the +more distant acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the +good qualities of the deceased, when their talk was interrupted +by the appearance of Mr. Hooper, still covered with his black +veil. It was now an appropriate emblem. The clergyman stepped +into the room where the corpse was laid, and bent over the +coffin, to take a last farewell of his deceased parishioner. As +he stooped, the veil hung straight down from his forehead, so +that, if her eyelids had not been closed forever, the dead maiden +might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful of her +glance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil? A person +who watched the interview between the dead and living, scrupled +not to affirm, that, at the instant when the clergyman's features +were disclosed, the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the +shroud and muslin cap, though the countenance retained the +composure of death. A superstitious old woman was the only +witness of this prodigy. From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into +the chamber of the mourners, and thence to the head of the +staircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was a tender and +heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet so imbued with +celestial hopes, that the music of a heavenly harp, swept by the +fingers of the dead, seemed faintly to be heard among the saddest +accents of the minister. The people trembled, though they but +darkly understood him when he prayed that they, and himself, and +all of mortal race, might be ready, as he trusted this young +maiden had been, for the dreadful hour that should snatch the +veil from their faces. The bearers went heavily forth, and the +mourners followed, saddening all the street, with the dead before +them, and Mr. Hooper in his black veil behind. + +"Why do you look back?" said one in the procession to his +partner. + +"I had a fancy," replied she, "that the minister and the maiden's +spirit were walking hand in hand." + +"And so had I, at the same moment," said the other. + +That night, the handsomest couple in Milford village were to be +joined in wedlock. Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper +had a placid cheerfulness for such occasions, which often excited +a sympathetic smile where livelier merriment would have been +thrown away. There was no quality of his disposition which made +him more beloved than this. The company at the wedding awaited +his arrival with impatience, trusting that the strange awe, which +had gathered over him throughout the day, would now be dispelled. +But such was not the result. When Mr. Hooper came, the first +thing that their eyes rested on was the same horrible black veil, +which had added deeper gloom to the funeral, and could portend +nothing but evil to the wedding. Such was its immediate effect on +the guests that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily from +beneath the black crape, and dimmed the light of the candles. The +bridal pair stood up before the minister. But the bride's cold +fingers quivered in the tremulous hand of the bridegroom, and her +deathlike paleness caused a whisper that the maiden who had been +buried a few hours before was come from her grave to be married. +If ever another wedding were so dismal, it was that famous one +where they tolled the wedding knell. After performing the +ceremony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wine to his lips, wishing +happiness to the new-married couple in a strain of mild pleasantry +that ought to have brightened the features of the guests, like a +cheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catching a +glimpse of his figure in the looking-glass, the black veil +involved his own spirit in the horror with which it overwhelmed +all others. His frame shuddered, his lips grew white, he spilt +the untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed forth into the +darkness. For the Earth, too, had on her Black Veil. + +The next day, the whole village of Milford talked of little else +than Parson Hooper's black veil. That, and the mystery concealed +behind it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances +meeting in the street, and good women gossiping at their open +windows. It was the first item of news that the tavern-keeper +told to his guests. The children babbled of it on their way to +school. One imitative little imp covered his face with an old +black handkerchief, thereby so affrighting his playmates that the +panic seized himself, and he well-nigh lost his wits by his own +waggery. + +It was remarkable that all of the busybodies and impertinent +people in the parish, not one ventured to put the plain question +to Mr. Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever +there appeared the slightest call for such interference, he had +never lacked advisers, nor shown himself averse to be guided by +their judgment. If he erred at all, it was by so painful a degree +of self-distrust, that even the mildest censure would lead him to +consider an indifferent action as a crime. Yet, though so well +acquainted with this amiable weakness, no individual among his +parishioners chose to make the black veil a subject of friendly +remonstrance. There was a feeling of dread, neither plainly +confessed nor carefully concealed, which caused each to shift the +responsibility upon another, till at length it was found +expedient to send a deputation of the church, in order to deal +with Mr. Hooper about the mystery, before it should grow into a +scandal. Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties. The +minister received then with friendly courtesy, but became silent, +after they were seated, leaving to his visitors the whole burden +of introducing their important business. The topic, it might be +supposed, was obvious enough. There was the black veil swathed +round Mr. Hooper's forehead, and concealing every feature above +his placid mouth, on which, at times, they could perceive the +glimmering of a melancholy smile. But that piece of crape, to +their imagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, the +symbol of a fearful secret between him and them. Were the veil +but cast aside, they might speak freely of it, but not till then. +Thus they sat a considerable time, speechless, confused, and +shrinking uneasily from Mr. Hooper's eye, which they felt to be +fixed upon them with an invisible glance. Finally, the deputies +returned abashed to their constituents, pronouncing the matter +too weighty to be handled, except by a council of the churches, +if, indeed, it might not require a general synod. + +But there was one person in the village unappalled by the awe +with which the black veil had impressed all beside herself. When +the deputies returned without an explanation, or even venturing +to demand one, she, with the calm energy of her character, +determined to chase away the strange cloud that appeared to be +settling round Mr. Hooper, every moment more darkly than before. +As his plighted wife, it should be her privilege to know what the +black veil concealed. At the minister's first visit, therefore, +she entered upon the subject with a direct simplicity, which made +the task easier both for him and her. After he had seated +himself, she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon the veil, but could +discern nothing of the dreadful gloom that had so overawed the +multitude: it was but a double fold of crape, hanging down from +his forehead to his mouth, and slightly stirring with his breath. + +"No," said she aloud, and smiling, "there is nothing terrible in +this piece of crape, except that it hides a face which I am +always glad to look upon. Come, good sir, let the sun shine from +behind the cloud. First lay aside your black veil: then tell me +why you put it on." + +Mr. Hooper's smile glimmered faintly. + +"There is an hour to come," said he, "when all of us shall cast +aside our veils. Take it not amiss, beloved friend, if I wear +this piece of crape till then." + +"Your words are a mystery, too," returned the young lady. "Take +away the veil from them, at least." + +"Elizabeth, I will," said he, "so far as my vow may suffer me. +Know, then, this veil is a type and a symbol, and I am bound to +wear it ever, both in light and darkness, in solitude and before +the gaze of multitudes, and as with strangers, so with my +familiar friends. No mortal eye will see it withdrawn. This +dismal shade must separate me from the world: even you, +Elizabeth, can never come behind it!" + +"What grievous affliction hath befallen you," she earnestly +inquired, "that you should thus darken your eyes forever?" + +"If it be a sign of mourning," replied Mr. Hooper, "I, perhaps, +like most other mortals, have sorrows dark enough to be typified +by a black veil." + +"But what if the world will not believe that it is the type of an +innocent sorrow?" urged Elizabeth. "Beloved and respected as you +are, there may be whispers that you hide your face under the +consciousness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, do +away this scandal!" + +The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated the nature of the +rumors that were already abroad in the village. But Mr. Hooper's +mildness did not forsake him. He even smiled again--that same sad +smile, which always appeared like a faint glimmering of light, +proceeding from the obscurity beneath the veil. + +"If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause enough," he merely +replied; "and if I cover it for secret sin, what mortal might not +do the same?" + +And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy did he resist +all her entreaties. At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few +moments she appeared lost in thought, considering, probably, what +new methods might be tried to withdraw her lover from so dark a +fantasy, which, if it had no other meaning, was perhaps a symptom +of mental disease. Though of a firmer character than his own, the +tears rolled down her cheeks. But, in an instant, as it were, a +new feeling took the place of sorrow: her eyes were fixed +insensibly on the black veil, when, like a sudden twilight in the +air, its terrors fell around her. She arose, and stood trembling +before him. + +"And do you feel it then, at last?" said he mournfully. + +She made no reply, but covered her eyes with her hand, and turned +to leave the room. He rushed forward and caught her arm. + +"Have patience with me, Elizabeth!" cried he, passionately. "Do +not desert me, though this veil must be between us here on earth. +Be mine, and hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, no +darkness between our souls! It is but a mortal veil--it is not +for eternity! O! you know not how lonely I am, and how +frightened, to be alone behind my black veil. Do not leave me in +this miserable obscurity forever!" + +"Lift the veil but once, and look me in the face," said she. + +"Never! It cannot be!" replied Mr. Hooper. + +"Then farewell!" said Elizabeth. + +She withdrew her arm from his grasp, and slowly departed, pausing +at the door, to give one long shuddering gaze, that seemed almost +to penetrate the mystery of the black veil. But, even amid his +grief, Mr. Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem had +separated him from happiness, though the horrors, which it +shadowed forth, must be drawn darkly between the fondest of +lovers. + +From that time no attempts were made to remove Mr. Hooper's black +veil, or, by a direct appeal, to discover the secret which it was +supposed to hide. By persons who claimed a superiority to popular +prejudice, it was reckoned merely an eccentric whim, such as +often mingles with the sober actions of men otherwise rational, +and tinges them all with its own semblance of insanity. But with +the multitude, good Mr. Hooper was irreparably a bugbear. He could +not walk the street with any peace of mind, so conscious was he +that the gentle and timid would turn aside to avoid him, and that +others would make it a point of hardihood to throw themselves in +his way. The impertinence of the latter class compelled him to +give up his customary walk at sunset to the burial ground; for +when he leaned pensively over the gate, there would always be +faces behind the gravestones, peeping at his black veil. A fable +went the rounds that the stare of the dead people drove him +thence. It grieved him, to the very depth of his kind heart, to +observe how the children fled from his approach, breaking up +their merriest sports, while his melancholy figure was yet afar +off. Their instinctive dread caused him to feel more strongly +than aught else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven with +the threads of the black crape. In truth, his own antipathy to +the veil was known to be so great, that he never willingly passed +before a mirror, nor stooped to drink at a still fountain, lest, +in its peaceful bosom, he should be affrighted by himself. This +was what gave plausibility to the whispers, that Mr. Hooper's +conscience tortured him for some great crime too horrible to be +entirely concealed, or otherwise than so obscurely intimated. +Thus, from beneath the black veil, there rolled a cloud into the +sunshine, an ambiguity of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the poor +minister, so that love or sympathy could never reach him. It was +said that ghost and fiend consorted with him there. With +self-shudderings and outward terrors, he walked continually in +its shadow, groping darkly within his own soul, or gazing through +a medium that saddened the whole world. Even the lawless wind, it +was believed, respected his dreadful secret, and never blew aside +the veil. But still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the pale +visages of the worldly throng as he passed by. + +Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the one +desirable effect, of making its wearer a very efficient +clergyman. By the aid of his mysterious emblem--for there was no +other apparent cause--he became a man of awful power over souls +that were in agony for sin. His converts always regarded him with +a dread peculiar to themselves, affirming, though but +figuratively, that, before he brought them to celestial light, +they had been with him behind the black veil. Its gloom, indeed, +enabled him to sympathize with all dark affections. Dying sinners +cried aloud for Mr. Hooper, and would not yield their breath till +he appeared; though ever, as he stooped to whisper consolation, +they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own. Such were +the terrors of the black veil, even when Death had bared his +visage! Strangers came long distances to attend service at his +church, with the mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure, +because it was forbidden them to behold his face. But many were +made to quake ere they departed! Once, during Governor Belcher's +administration, Mr. Hooper was appointed to preach the election +sermon. Covered with his black veil, he stood before the chief +magistrate, the council, and the representatives, and wrought so +deep an impression, that the legislative measures of that year +were characterized by all the gloom and piety of our earliest +ancestral sway. + +In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irreproachable in +outward act, yet shrouded in dismal suspicions; kind and loving, +though unloved, and dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunned +in their health and joy, but ever summoned to their aid in mortal +anguish. As years wore on, shedding their snows above his sable +veil, he acquired a name throughout the New England churches, and +they called him Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners, who +were of mature age when he was settled, had been borne away by +many a funeral: he had one congregation in the church, and a more +crowded one in the churchyard; and having wrought so late into +the evening, and done his work so well, it was now good Father +Hooper's turn to rest. + +Several persons were visible by the shaded candlelight, in the +death chamber of the old clergyman. Natural connections he had +none. But there was the decorously grave, though unmoved +physician, seeking only to mitigate the last pangs of the patient +whom he could not save. There were the deacons, and other +eminently pious members of his church. There, also, was the +Reverend Mr. Clark, of Westbury, a young and zealous divine, who +had ridden in haste to pray by the bedside of the expiring +minister. There was the nurse, no hired handmaiden of death, but +one whose calm affection had endured thus long in secrecy, in +solitude, amid the chill of age, and would not perish, even at +the dying hour. Who, but Elizabeth! And there lay the hoary head +of good Father Hooper upon the death pillow, with the black veil +still swathed about his brow, and reaching down over his face, so +that each more difficult gasp of his faint breath caused it to +stir. All through life that piece of crape had hung between him +and the world: it had separated him from cheerful brotherhood and +woman's love, and kept him in that saddest of all prisons, his +own heart; and still it lay upon his face, as if to deepen the +gloom of his darksome chamber, and shade him from the sunshine of +eternity. + +For some time previous, his mind had been confused, wavering +doubtfully between the past and the present, and hovering +forward, as it were, at intervals, into the indistinctness of the +world to come. There had been feverish turns, which tossed him +from side to side, and wore away what little strength he had. But +in his most convulsive struggles, and in the wildest vagaries of +his intellect, when no other thought retained its sober +influence, he still showed an awful solicitude lest the black +veil should slip aside. Even if his bewildered soul could have +forgotten, there was a faithful woman at this pillow, who, with +averted eyes, would have covered that aged face, which she had +last beheld in the comeliness of manhood. At length the +death-stricken old man lay quietly in the torpor of mental and +bodily exhaustion, with an imperceptible pulse, and breath that +grew fainter and fainter, except when a long, deep, and irregular +inspiration seemed to prelude the flight of his spirit. + +The minister of Westbury approached the bedside. + +"Venerable Father Hooper," said he, "the moment of your release +is at hand. Are you ready for the lifting of the veil that shuts +in time from eternity?" + +Father Hooper at first replied merely by a feeble motion of his +head; then, apprehensive, perhaps, that his meaning might be +doubted, he exerted himself to speak. + +"Yea," said he, in faint accents, "my soul hath a patient +weariness until that veil be lifted." + +"And is it fitting," resumed the Reverend Mr. Clark, "that a man +so given to prayer, of such a blameless example, holy in deed and +thought, so far as mortal judgment may pronounce; is it fitting +that a father in the church should leave a shadow on his memory, +that may seem to blacken a life so pure? I pray you, my venerable +brother, let not this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened by your +triumphant aspect as you go to your reward. Before the veil of +eternity be lifted, let me cast aside this black veil from your +face!" + +And thus speaking, the Reverend Mr. Clark bent forward to reveal +the mystery of so many years. But, exerting a sudden energy, that +made all the beholders stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched both +his hands from beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them strongly +on the black veil, resolute to struggle, if the minister of +Westbury would contend with a dying man. + +"Never!" cried the veiled clergyman. "On earth, never!" + +"Dark old man!" exclaimed the affrighted minister, "with what +horrible crime upon your soul are you now passing to the +judgment?" + +Father Hooper's breath heaved; it rattled in his throat; but, +with a mighty effort, grasping forward with his hands, he caught +hold of life, and held it back till he should speak. He even +raised himself in bed; and there he sat, shivering with the arms +of death around him, while the black veil hung down, awful, at +that last moment, in the gathered terrors of a lifetime. And yet +the faint, sad smile, so often there, now seemed to glimmer from +its obscurity, and linger on Father Hooper's lips. + +"Why do you tremble at me alone?" cried he, turning his veiled +face round the circle of pale spectators. "Tremble also at each +other! Have men avoided me, and women shown no pity, and children +screamed and fled, only for my black veil? What, but the mystery +which it obscurely typifies, has made this piece of crape so +awful? When the friend shows his inmost heart to his friend; the +lover to his best beloved; when man does not vainly shrink from +the eye of his Creator, loathsomely treasuring up the secret of +his sin; then deem me a monster, for the symbol beneath which I +have lived, and die! I look around me, and, lo! on every visage a +Black Veil!" + +While his auditors shrank from one another, in mutual affright, +Father Hooper fell back upon his pillow, a veiled corpse, with a +faint smile lingering on the lips. Still veiled, they laid him in +his coffin, and a veiled corpse they bore him to the grave. The +grass of many years has sprung up and withered on that grave, the +burial stone is moss-grown, and good Mr. Hooper's face is dust; +but awful is still the thought that it mouldered beneath the +Black Veil! + + + +Anonymous + +Horror: A True Tale + + +I was but nineteen years of age when the incident occurred which +has thrown a shadow over my life; and, ah me! how many and many a +weary year has dragged by since then! Young, happy, and beloved I +was in those long-departed days. They said that I was beautiful. +The mirror now reflects a haggard old woman, with ashen lips and +face of deadly pallor. But do not fancy that you are listening to +a mere puling lament. It is not the flight of years that has +brought me to be this wreck of my former self: had it been so I +could have borne the loss cheerfully, patiently, as the common lot +of all; but it was no natural progress of decay which has robbed me +of bloom, of youth, of the hopes and joys that belong to youth, +snapped the link that bound my heart to another's, and doomed me to +a lone old age. I try to be patient, but my cross has been heavy, +and my heart is empty and weary, and I long for the death that +comes so slowly to those who pray to die. + +I will try and relate, exactly as it happened, the event which +blighted my life. Though it occurred many years ago, there is no +fear that I should have forgotten any of the minutest +circumstances: they were stamped on my brain too clearly and +burningly, like the brand of a red-hot iron. I see them written in +the wrinkles of my brow, in the dead whiteness of my hair, which +was a glossy brown once, and has known no gradual change from dark +to gray, from gray to white, as with those happy ones who were the +companions of my girlhood, and whose honored age is soothed by the +love of children and grandchildren. But I must not envy them. I +only meant to say that the difficulty of my task has no connection +with want of memory--I remember but too well. But as I take my pen +my hand trembles, my head swims, the old rushing faintness and +Horror comes over me again, and the well-remembered fear is upon +me. Yet I will go on. + +This, briefly, is my story: I was a great heiress, I believe, +though I cared little for the fact; but so it was. My father had +great possessions, and no son to inherit after him. His three +daughters, of whom I was the youngest, were to share the broad +acres among them. I have said, and truly, that I cared little for +the circumstance; and, indeed, I was so rich then in health and +youth and love that I felt myself quite indifferent to all else. +The possession of all the treasures of earth could never have made +up for what I then had--and lost, as I am about to relate. Of +course, we girls knew that we were heiresses, but I do not think +Lucy and Minnie were any the prouder or the happier on that +account. I know I was not. Reginald did not court me for my +money. Of THAT I felt assured. He proved it, Heaven be praised! +when he shrank from my side after the change. Yes, in all my +lonely age, I can still be thankful that he did not keep his word, +as some would have done--did not clasp at the altar a hand he had +learned to loathe and shudder at, because it was full of gold--much +gold! At least he spared me that. And I know that I was loved, +and the knowledge has kept me from going mad through many a weary +day and restless night, when my hot eyeballs had not a tear to +shed, and even to weep was a luxury denied me. + +Our house was an old Tudor mansion. My father was very particular +in keeping the smallest peculiarities of his home unaltered. Thus +the many peaks and gables, the numerous turrets, and the mullioned +windows with their quaint lozenge panes set in lead, remained very +nearly as they had been three centuries back. Over and above the +quaint melancholy of our dwelling, with the deep woods of its park +and the sullen waters of the mere, our neighborhood was thinly +peopled and primitive, and the people round us were ignorant, and +tenacious of ancient ideas and traditions. Thus it was a +superstitious atmosphere that we children were reared in, and we +heard, from our infancy, countless tales of horror, some mere +fables doubtless, others legends of dark deeds of the olden time, +exaggerated by credulity and the love of the marvelous. Our mother +had died when we were young, and our other parent being, though a +kind father, much absorbed in affairs of various kinds, as an +active magistrate and landlord, there was no one to check the +unwholesome stream of tradition with which our plastic minds were +inundated in the company of nurses and servants. As years went on, +however, the old ghostly tales partially lost their effects, and +our undisciplined minds were turned more towards balls, dress, and +partners, and other matters airy and trivial, more welcome to our +riper age. It was at a county assembly that Reginald and I first +met--met and loved. Yes, I am sure that he loved me with all his +heart. It was not as deep a heart as some, I have thought in my +grief and anger; but I never doubted its truth and honesty. +Reginald's father and mine approved of our growing attachment; and +as for myself, I know I was so happy then, that I look back upon +those fleeting moments as on some delicious dream. I now come to +the change. I have lingered on my childish reminiscences, my +bright and happy youth, and now I must tell the rest--the blight +and the sorrow. + +It was Christmas, always a joyful and a hospitable time in the +country, especially in such an old hall as our home, where quaint +customs and frolics were much clung to, as part and parcel of the +very dwelling itself. The hall was full of guests--so full, +indeed, that there was great difficulty in providing sleeping +accommodation for all. Several narrow and dark chambers in the +turrets--mere pigeon-holes, as we irreverently called what had been +thought good enough for the stately gentlemen of Elizabeth's reign-- +were now allotted to bachelor visitors, after having been empty +for a century. All the spare rooms in the body and wings of the +hall were occupied, of course; and the servants who had been +brought down were lodged at the farm and at the keeper's, so great +was the demand for space. At last the unexpected arrival of an +elderly relative, who had been asked months before, but scarcely +expected, caused great commotion. My aunts went about wringing +their hands distractedly. Lady Speldhurst was a personage of some +consequence; she was a distant cousin, and had been for years on +cool terms with us all, on account of some fancied affront or +slight when she had paid her LAST visit, about the time of my +christening. She was seventy years old; she was infirm, rich, and +testy; moreover, she was my godmother, though I had forgotten the +fact; but it seems that though I had formed no expectations of a +legacy in my favor, my aunts had done so for me. Aunt Margaret was +especially eloquent on the subject. "There isn't a room left," she +said; "was ever anything so unfortunate! We cannot put Lady +Speldhurst into the turrets, and yet where IS she to sleep? And +Rosa's godmother, too! Poor, dear child, how dreadful! After all +these years of estrangement, and with a hundred thousand in the +funds, and no comfortable, warm room at her own unlimited disposal-- +and Christmas, of all times in the year!" What WAS to be done? +My aunts could not resign their own chambers to Lady Speldhurst, +because they had already given them up to some of the married +guests. My father was the most hospitable of men, but he was +rheumatic, gouty, and methodical. His sisters-in-law dared not +propose to shift his quarters; and, indeed, he would have far +sooner dined on prison fare than have been translated to a strange +bed. The matter ended in my giving up my room. I had a strange +reluctance to making the offer, which surprised myself. Was it a +boding of evil to come? I cannot say. We are strangely and +wonderfully made. It MAY have been. At any rate, I do not think +it was any selfish unwillingness to make an old and infirm lady +comfortable by a trifling sacrifice. I was perfectly healthy and +strong. The weather was not cold for the time of the year. It was +a dark, moist Yule--not a snowy one, though snow brooded overhead +in the darkling clouds. I DID make the offer, which became me, I +said with a laugh, as the youngest. My sisters laughed too, and +made a jest of my evident wish to propitiate my godmother. "She is +a fairy godmother, Rosa," said Minnie; "and you know she was +affronted at your christening, and went away muttering vengeance. +Here she is coming back to see you; I hope she brings golden gifts +with her." + +I thought little of Lady Speldhurst and her possible golden gifts. +I cared nothing for the wonderful fortune in the funds that my +aunts whispered and nodded about so mysteriously. But since then I +have wondered whether, had I then showed myself peevish or +obstinate--had I refused to give up my room for the expected +kinswoman--it would not have altered the whole of my life? But +then Lucy or Minnie would have offered in my stead, and been +sacrificed--what do I say?--better that the blow should have fallen +as it did than on those dear ones. + +The chamber to which I removed was a dim little triangular room in +the western wing, and was only to be reached by traversing the +picture-gallery, or by mounting a little flight of stone stairs +which led directly upward from the low-browed arch of a door that +opened into the garden. There was one more room on the same +landing-place, and this was a mere receptacle for broken furniture, +shattered toys, and all the lumber that WILL accumulate in a +country-house. The room I was to inhabit for a few nights was a +tapestry-hung apartment, with faded green curtains of some costly +stuff, contrasting oddly with a new carpet and the bright, fresh +hangings of the bed, which had been hurriedly erected. The +furniture was half old, half new; and on the dressing-table stood a +very quaint oval mirror, in a frame of black wood--unpolished +ebony, I think. I can remember the very pattern of the carpet, the +number of chairs, the situation of the bed, the figures on the +tapestry. Nay, I can recollect not only the color of the dress I +wore on that fated evening, but the arrangement of every scrap of +lace and ribbon, of every flower, every jewel, with a memory but +too perfect. + +Scarcely had my maid finished spreading out my various articles of +attire for the evening (when there was to be a great dinner-party) +when the rumble of a carriage announced that Lady Speldhurst had +arrived. The short winter's day drew to a close, and a large +number of guests were gathered together in the ample drawing-room, +around the blaze of the wood-fire, after dinner. My father, I +recollect, was not with us at first. There were some squires of +the old, hard-riding, hard-drinking stamp still lingering over +their port in the dining-room, and the host, of course, could not +leave them. But the ladies and all the younger gentlemen--both +those who slept under our roof, and those who would have a dozen +miles of fog and mire to encounter on their road home--were all +together. Need I say that Reginald was there? He sat near me--my +accepted lover, my plighted future husband. We were to be married +in the spring. My sisters were not far off; they, too, had found +eyes that sparkled and softened in meeting theirs, had found hearts +that beat responsive to their own. And, in their cases, no rude +frost nipped the blossom ere it became the fruit; there was no +canker in their flowerets of young hope, no cloud in their sky. +Innocent and loving, they were beloved by men worthy of their +esteem. + +The room--a large and lofty one, with an arched roof--had somewhat +of a somber character, from being wainscoted and ceiled with +polished black oak of a great age. There were mirrors, and there +were pictures on the walls, and handsome furniture, and marble +chimney-pieces, and a gay Tournay carpet; but these merely appeared +as bright spots on the dark background of the Elizabethan woodwork. +Many lights were burning, but the blackness of the walls and roof +seemed absolutely to swallow up their rays, like the mouth of a +cavern. A hundred candles could not have given that apartment the +cheerful lightness of a modern drawing room. But the gloomy +richness of the panels matched well with the ruddy gleam from the +enormous wood-fire, in which, crackling and glowing, now lay the +mighty Yule log. Quite a blood-red luster poured forth from the +fire, and quivered on the walls and the groined roof. We had +gathered round the vast antique hearth in a wide circle. The +quivering light of the fire and candles fell upon us all, but not +equally, for some were in shadow. I remember still how tall and +manly and handsome Reginald looked that night, taller by the head +than any there, and full of high spirits and gayety. I, too, was +in the highest spirits; never had my bosom felt lighter, and I +believe it was my mirth that gradually gained the rest, for I +recollect what a blithe, joyous company we seemed. All save one. +Lady Speldhurst, dressed in gray silk and wearing a quaint head- +dress, sat in her armchair, facing the fire, very silent, with her +hands and her sharp chin propped on a sort of ivory-handled crutch +that she walked with (for she was lame), peering at me with half- +shut eyes. She was a little, spare old woman, with very keen, +delicate features of the French type. Her gray silk dress, her +spotless lace, old-fashioned jewels, and prim neatness of array, +were well suited to the intelligence of her face, with its thin +lips, and eyes of a piercing black, undimmed by age. Those eyes +made me uncomfortable, in spite of my gayety, as they followed my +every movement with curious scrutiny. Still I was very merry and +gay; my sisters even wondered at my ever-ready mirth, which was +almost wild in its excess. I have heard since then of the Scottish +belief that those doomed to some great calamity become fey, and are +never so disposed for merriment and laughter as just before the +blow falls. If ever mortal was fey, then I was so on that evening. +Still, though I strove to shake it off, the pertinacious +observation of old Lady Speldhurst's eyes DID make an impression on +me of a vaguely disagreeable nature. Others, too, noticed her +scrutiny of me, but set it down as a mere eccentricity of a person +always reputed whimsical, to say the least of it. + +However, this disagreeable sensation lasted but a few moments. +After a short pause my aunt took her part in the conversation, and +we found ourselves listening to a weird legend, which the old lady +told exceedingly well. One tale led to another. Everyone was +called on in turn to contribute to the public entertainment, and +story after story, always relating to demonology and witchcraft, +succeeded. It was Christmas, the season for such tales; and the +old room, with its dusky walls and pictures, and vaulted roof, +drinking up the light so greedily, seemed just fitted to give +effect to such legendary lore. The huge logs crackled and burned +with glowing warmth; the blood-red glare of the Yule log flashed on +the faces of the listeners and narrator, on the portraits, and the +holly wreathed about their frames, and the upright old dame, in her +antiquated dress and trinkets, like one of the originals of the +pictures, stepped from the canvas to join our circle. It threw a +shimmering luster of an ominously ruddy hue upon the oaken panels. +No wonder that the ghost and goblin stories had a new zest. No +wonder that the blood of the more timid grew chill and curdled, +that their flesh crept, that their hearts beat irregularly, and the +girls peeped fearfully over their shoulders, and huddled close +together like frightened sheep, and half fancied they beheld some +impish and malignant face gibbering at them from the darkling +corners of the old room. By degrees my high spirits died out, and +I felt the childish tremors, long latent, long forgotten, coming +over me. I followed each story with painful interest; I did not +ask myself if I believed the dismal tales. I listened, and fear +grew upon me--the blind, irrational fear of our nursery days. I am +sure most of the other ladies present, young or middle-aged, were +affected by the circumstances under which these traditions were +heard, no less than by the wild and fantastic character of them. +But with them the impression would die out next morning, when the +bright sun should shine on the frosted boughs, and the rime on the +grass, and the scarlet berries and green spikelets of the holly; +and with me--but, ah! what was to happen ere another day dawn? +Before we had made an end of this talk my father and the other +squires came in, and we ceased our ghost stories, ashamed to speak +of such matters before these new-comers--hard-headed, unimaginative +men, who had no sympathy with idle legends. There was now a stir +and bustle. + +Servants were handing round tea and coffee, and other refreshments. +Then there was a little music and singing. I sang a duet with +Reginald, who had a fine voice and good musical skill. I remember +that my singing was much praised, and indeed I was surprised at the +power and pathos of my own voice, doubtless due to my excited +nerves and mind. Then I heard someone say to another that I was by +far the cleverest of the Squire's daughters, as well as the +prettiest. It did not make me vain. I had no rivalry with Lucy +and Minnie. But Reginald whispered some soft, fond words in my ear +a little before he mounted his horse to set off homeward, which DID +make me happy and proud. And to think that the next time we met-- +but I forgave him long ago. Poor Reginald! And now shawls and +cloaks were in request, and carriages rolled up to the porch, and +the guests gradually departed. At last no one was left but those +visitors staying in the house. Then my father, who had been called +out to speak with the bailiff of the estate, came back with a look +of annoyance on his face. + +"A strange story I have just been told," said he; "here has been my +bailiff to inform me of the loss of four of the choicest ewes out +of that little flock of Southdowns I set such store by, and which +arrived in the north but two months since. And the poor creatures +have been destroyed in so strange a manner, for their carcasses are +horribly mangled." + +Most of us uttered some expression of pity or surprise, and some +suggested that a vicious dog was probably the culprit. + +"It would seem so," said my father; "it certainly seems the work of +a dog; and yet all the men agree that no dog of such habits exists +near us, where, indeed, dogs are scarce, excepting the shepherds' +collies and the sporting dogs secured in yards. Yet the sheep are +gnawed and bitten, for they show the marks of teeth. Something has +done this, and has torn their bodies wolfishly; but apparently it +has been only to suck the blood, for little or no flesh is gone." + +"How strange!" cried several voices. Then some of the gentlemen +remembered to have heard of cases when dogs addicted to sheep- +killing had destroyed whole flocks, as if in sheer wantonness, +scarcely deigning to taste a morsel of each slain wether. + +My father shook his head. "I have heard of such cases, too," he +said; "but in this instance I am tempted to think the malice of +some unknown enemy has been at work. The teeth of a dog have been +busy, no doubt, but the poor sheep have been mutilated in a +fantastic manner, as strange as horrible; their hearts, in +especial, have been torn out, and left at some paces off, half- +gnawed. Also, the men persist that they found the print of a naked +human foot in the soft mud of the ditch, and near it--this." And +he held up what seemed a broken link of a rusted iron chain. + +Many were the ejaculations of wonder and alarm, and many and shrewd +the conjectures, but none seemed exactly to suit the bearings of +the case. And when my father went on to say that two lambs of the +same valuable breed had perished in the same singular manner three +days previously, and that they also were found mangled and gore- +stained, the amazement reached a higher pitch. Old Lady Speldhurst +listened with calm, intelligent attention, but joined in none of +our exclamations. At length she said to my father, "Try and +recollect--have you no enemy among your neighbors?" My father +started, and knit his brows. "Not one that I know of," he replied; +and indeed he was a popular man and a kind landlord. "The more +lucky you," said the old dame, with one of her grim smiles. It was +now late, and we retired to rest before long. One by one the +guests dropped off. I was the member of the family selected to +escort old Lady Speldhurst to her room--the room I had vacated in +her favor. I did not much like the office. I felt a remarkable +repugnance to my godmother, but my worthy aunts insisted so much +that I should ingratiate myself with one who had so much to leave +that I could not but comply. The visitor hobbled up the broad +oaken stairs actively enough, propped on my arm and her ivory +crutch. The room never had looked more genial and pretty, with its +brisk fire, modern furniture, and the gay French paper on the +walls. "A nice room, my dear, and I ought to be much obliged to +you for it, since my maid tells me it is yours," said her ladyship; +"but I am pretty sure you repent your generosity to me, after all +those ghost stories, and tremble to think of a strange bed and +chamber, eh?" I made some commonplace reply. The old lady arched +her eyebrows. "Where have they put you, child?" she asked; "in +some cock-loft of the turrets, eh? or in a lumber-room--a regular +ghost-trap? I can hear your heart beating with fear this moment. +You are not fit to be alone." I tried to call up my pride, and +laugh off the accusation against my courage, all the more, perhaps, +because I felt its truth. "Do you want anything more that I can +get you, Lady Speldhurst?" I asked, trying to feign a yawn of +sleepiness. The old dame's keen eyes were upon me. "I rather like +you, my dear," she said, "and I liked your mamma well enough before +she treated me so shamefully about the christening dinner. Now, I +know you are frightened and fearful, and if an owl should but flap +your window to-night, it might drive you into fits. There is a +nice little sofa-bed in this dressing closet--call your maid to +arrange it for you, and you can sleep there snugly, under the old +witch's protection, and then no goblin dare harm you, and nobody +will be a bit the wiser, or quiz you for being afraid." How little +I knew what hung in the balance of my refusal or acceptance of that +trivial proffer! Had the veil of the future been lifted for one +instant! but that veil is impenetrable to our gaze. + +I left her door. As I crossed the landing a bright gleam came from +another room, whose door was left ajar; it (the light) fell like a +bar of golden sheen across my path. As I approached the door +opened and my sister Lucy, who had been watching for me, came out. +She was already in a white cashmere wrapper, over which her +loosened hair hung darkly and heavily, like tangles of silk. +"Rosa, love," she whispered, "Minnie and I can't bear the idea of +your sleeping out there, all alone, in that solitary room--the very +room too Nurse Sherrard used to talk about! So, as you know Minnie +has given up her room, and come to sleep in mine, still we should +so wish you to stop with us to-night at any rate, and I could make +up a bed on the sofa for myself or you--and--" I stopped Lucy's +mouth with a kiss. I declined her offer. I would not listen to +it. In fact, my pride was up in arms, and I felt I would rather +pass the night in the churchyard itself than accept a proposal +dictated, I felt sure, by the notion that my nerves were shaken by +the ghostly lore we had been raking up, that I was a weak, +superstitious creature, unable to pass a night in a strange +chamber. So I would not listen to Lucy, but kissed her, bade her +good-night, and went on my way laughing, to show my light heart. +Yet, as I looked back in the dark corridor, and saw the friendly +door still ajar, the yellow bar of light still crossing from wall +to wall, the sweet, kind face still peering after me from amidst +its clustering curls, I felt a thrill of sympathy, a wish to +return, a yearning after human love and companionship. False shame +was strongest, and conquered. I waved a gay adieu. I turned the +corner, and peeping over my shoulder, I saw the door close; the bar +of yellow light was there no longer in the darkness of the passage. +I thought at that instant that I heard a heavy sigh. I looked +sharply round. No one was there. No door was open, yet I fancied, +and fancied with a wonderful vividness, that I did hear an actual +sigh breathed not far off, and plainly distinguishable from the +groan of the sycamore branches as the wind tossed them to and fro +in the outer blackness. If ever a mortal's good angel had cause to +sigh for sorrow, not sin, mine had cause to mourn that night. But +imagination plays us strange tricks and my nervous system was not +over-composed or very fitted for judicial analysis. I had to go +through the picture-gallery. I had never entered this apartment by +candle-light before and I was struck by the gloomy array of the +tall portraits, gazing moodily from the canvas on the lozenge-paned +or painted windows, which rattled to the blast as it swept howling +by. Many of the faces looked stern, and very different from their +daylight expression. In others a furtive, flickering smile seemed +to mock me as my candle illumined them; and in all, the eyes, as +usual with artistic portraits, seemed to follow my motions with a +scrutiny and an interest the more marked for the apathetic +immovability of the other features. I felt ill at ease under this +stony gaze, though conscious how absurd were my apprehensions; and +I called up a smile and an air of mirth, more as if acting a part +under the eyes of human beings than of their mere shadows on the +wall. I even laughed as I confronted them. No echo had my short- +lived laughter but from the hollow armor and arching roof, and I +continued on my way in silence. + +By a sudden and not uncommon revulsion of feeling I shook off my +aimless terrors, blushed at my weakness, and sought my chamber only +too glad that I had been the only witness of my late tremors. As I +entered my chamber I thought I heard something stir in the +neglected lumber-room, which was the only neighboring apartment. +But I was determined to have no more panics, and resolutely shut my +eyes to this slight and transient noise, which had nothing +unnatural in it; for surely, between rats and wind, an old manor- +house on a stormy night needs no sprites to disturb it. So I +entered my room, and rang for my maid. As I did so I looked around +me, and a most unaccountable repugnance to my temporary abode came +over me, in spite of my efforts. It was no more to be shaken off +than a chill is to be shaken off when we enter some damp cave. +And, rely upon it, the feeling of dislike and apprehension with +which we regard, at first sight, certain places and people, was not +implanted in us without some wholesome purpose. I grant it is +irrational--mere animal instinct--but is not instinct God's gift, +and is it for us to despise it? It is by instinct that children +know their friends from their enemies--that they distinguish with +such unerring accuracy between those who like them and those who +only flatter and hate them. Dogs do the same; they will fawn on +one person, they slink snarling from another. Show me a man whom +children and dogs shrink from, and I will show you a false, bad +man--lies on his lips, and murder at his heart. No; let none +despise the heaven-sent gift of innate antipathy, which makes the +horse quail when the lion crouches in the thicket--which makes the +cattle scent the shambles from afar, and low in terror and disgust +as their nostrils snuff the blood-polluted air. I felt this +antipathy strongly as I looked around me in my new sleeping-room, +and yet I could find no reasonable pretext for my dislike. A very +good room it was, after all, now that the green damask curtains +were drawn, the fire burning bright and clear, candles burning on +the mantel-piece, and the various familiar articles of toilet +arranged as usual. The bed, too, looked peaceful and inviting--a +pretty little white bed, not at all the gaunt funereal sort of +couch which haunted apartments generally contain. + +My maid entered, and assisted me to lay aside the dress and +ornaments I had worn, and arranged my hair, as usual, prattling the +while, in Abigail fashion. I seldom cared to converse with +servants; but on that night a sort of dread of being left alone--a +longing to keep some human being near me possessed me--and I +encouraged the girl to gossip, so that her duties took her half an +hour longer to get through than usual. At last, however, she had +done all that could be done, and all my questions were answered, +and my orders for the morrow reiterated and vowed obedience to, and +the clock on the turret struck one. Then Mary, yawning a little, +asked if I wanted anything more, and I was obliged to answer no, +for very shame's sake; and she went. The shutting of the door, +gently as it was closed, affected me unpleasantly. I took a +dislike to the curtains, the tapestry, the dingy pictures-- +everything. I hated the room. I felt a temptation to put on a +cloak, run, half-dressed, to my sisters' chamber, and say I had +changed my mind and come for shelter. But they must be asleep, I +thought, and I could not be so unkind as to wake them. I said my +prayers with unusual earnestness and a heavy heart. I extinguished +the candles, and was just about to lay my head on my pillow, when +the idea seized me that I would fasten the door. The candles were +extinguished, but the firelight was amply sufficient to guide me. +I gained the door. There was a lock, but it was rusty or hampered; +my utmost strength could not turn the key. The bolt was broken and +worthless. Balked of my intention, I consoled myself by +remembering that I had never had need of fastenings yet, and +returned to my bed. I lay awake for a good while, watching the red +glow of the burning coals in the grate. I was quiet now, and more +composed. Even the light gossip of the maid, full of petty human +cares and joys, had done me good--diverted my thoughts from +brooding. I was on the point of dropping asleep, when I was twice +disturbed. Once, by an owl, hooting in the ivy outside--no +unaccustomed sound, but harsh and melancholy; once, by a long and +mournful howling set up by the mastiff, chained in the yard beyond +the wing I occupied. A long-drawn, lugubrious howling was this +latter, and much such a note as the vulgar declare to herald a +death in the family. This was a fancy I had never shared; but yet +I could not help feeling that the dog's mournful moans were sad, +and expressive of terror, not at all like his fierce, honest bark +of anger, but rather as if something evil and unwonted were abroad. +But soon I fell asleep. + +How long I slept I never knew. I awoke at once with that abrupt +start which we all know well, and which carries us in a second from +utter unconsciousness to the full use of our faculties. The fire +was still burning, but was very low, and half the room or more was +in deep shadow. I knew, I felt, that some person or thing was in +the room, although nothing unusual was to be seen by the feeble +light. Yet it was a sense of danger that had aroused me from +slumber. I experienced, while yet asleep, the chill and shock of +sudden alarm, and I knew, even in the act of throwing off sleep +like a mantle, WHY I awoke, and that some intruder was present. +Yet, though I listened intently, no sound was audible, except the +faint murmur of the fire--the dropping of a cinder from the bars-- +the loud, irregular beatings of my own heart. Notwithstanding this +silence, by some intuition I knew that I had not been deceived by a +dream, and felt certain that I was not alone. I waited. My heart +beat on; quicker, more sudden grew its pulsations, as a bird in a +cage might flutter in presence of the hawk. And then I heard a +sound, faint, but quite distinct, the clank of iron, the rattling +of a chain! I ventured to lift my head from the pillow. Dim and +uncertain as the light was, I saw the curtains of my bed shake, and +caught a glimpse of something beyond, a darker spot in the +darkness. This confirmation of my fears did not surprise me so +much as it shocked me. I strove to cry aloud, but could not utter +a word. The chain rattled again, and this time the noise was +louder and clearer. But though I strained my eyes, they could not +penetrate the obscurity that shrouded the other end of the chamber +whence came the sullen clanking. In a moment several distinct +trains of thought, like many-colored strands of thread twining into +one, became palpable to my mental vision. Was it a robber? Could +it be a supernatural visitant? Or was I the victim of a cruel +trick, such as I had heard of, and which some thoughtless persons +love to practice on the timid, reckless of its dangerous results? +And then a new idea, with some ray of comfort in it, suggested +itself. There was a fine young dog of the Newfoundland breed, a +favorite of my father's, which was usually chained by night in an +outhouse. Neptune might have broken loose, found his way to my +room, and, finding the door imperfectly closed, have pushed it open +and entered. I breathed more freely as this harmless +interpretation of the noise forced itself upon me. It was--it must +be--the dog, and I was distressing myself uselessly. I resolved to +call to him; I strove to utter his name--"Neptune, Neptune," but a +secret apprehension restrained me, and I was mute. + +Then the chain clanked nearer and nearer to the bed, and presently +I saw a dusky, shapeless mass appear between the curtains on the +opposite side to where I was lying. How I longed to hear the whine +of the poor animal that I hoped might be the cause of my alarm. +But no; I heard no sound save the rustle of the curtains and the +clash of the iron chains. Just then the dying flame of the fire +leaped up, and with one sweeping, hurried glance I saw that the +door was shut, and, horror! it is not the dog! it is the semblance +of a human form that now throws itself heavily on the bed, outside +the clothes, and lies there, huge and swart, in the red gleam that +treacherously died away after showing so much to affright, and +sinks into dull darkness. There was now no light left, though the +red cinders yet glowed with a ruddy gleam like the eyes of wild +beasts. The chain rattled no more. I tried to speak, to scream +wildly for help; my mouth was parched, my tongue refused to obey. +I could not utter a cry, and, indeed, who could have heard me, +alone as I was in that solitary chamber, with no living neighbor, +and the picture-gallery between me and any aid that even the +loudest, most piercing shriek could summon. And the storm that +howled without would have drowned my voice, even if help had been +at hand. To call aloud--to demand who was there--alas! how +useless, how perilous! If the intruder were a robber, my outcries +would but goad him to fury; but what robber would act thus? As for +a trick, that seemed impossible. And yet, WHAT lay by my side, now +wholly unseen? I strove to pray aloud as there rushed on my memory +a flood of weird legends--the dreaded yet fascinating lore of my +childhood. I had heard and read of the spirits of the wicked men +forced to revisit the scenes of their earthly crimes--of demons +that lurked in certain accursed spots--of the ghoul and vampire of +the east, stealing amidst the graves they rifled for their ghostly +banquets; and then I shuddered as I gazed on the blank darkness +where I knew it lay. It stirred--it moaned hoarsely; and again I +heard the chain clank close beside me--so close that it must almost +have touched me. I drew myself from it, shrinking away in loathing +and terror of the evil thing--what, I knew not, but felt that +something malignant was near. + +And yet, in the extremity of my fear, I dared not speak; I was +strangely cautious to be silent, even in moving farther off; for I +had a wild hope that it--the phantom, the creature, whichever it +was--had not discovered my presence in the room. And then I +remembered all the events of the night--Lady Speldhurst's ill- +omened vaticinations, her half-warnings, her singular look as we +parted, my sister's persuasions, my terror in the gallery, the +remark that "this was the room nurse Sherrard used to talk of." +And then memory, stimulated by fear, recalled the long-forgotten +past, the ill-repute of this disused chamber, the sins it had +witnessed, the blood spilled, the poison administered by unnatural +hate within its walls, and the tradition which called it haunted. +The green room--I remembered now how fearfully the servants avoided +it--how it was mentioned rarely, and in whispers, when we were +children, and how we had regarded it as a mysterious region, unfit +for mortal habitation. Was It--the dark form with the chain--a +creature of this world, or a specter? And again--more dreadful +still--could it be that the corpses of wicked men were forced to +rise and haunt in the body the places where they had wrought their +evil deeds? And was such as these my grisly neighbor? The chain +faintly rattled. My hair bristled; my eyeballs seemed starting +from their sockets; the damps of a great anguish were on my brow. +My heart labored as if I were crushed beneath some vast weight. +Sometimes it appeared to stop its frenzied beatings, sometimes its +pulsations were fierce and hurried; my breath came short and with +extreme difficulty, and I shivered as if with cold; yet I feared to +stir. IT moved, it moaned, its fetters clanked dismally, the couch +creaked and shook. This was no phantom, then--no air-drawn +specter. But its very solidity, its palpable presence, were a +thousand times more terrible. I felt that I was in the very grasp +of what could not only affright but harm; of something whose +contact sickened the soul with deathly fear. I made a desperate +resolve: I glided from the bed, I seized a warm wrapper, threw it +around me, and tried to grope, with extended hands, my way to the +door. My heart beat high at the hope of escape. But I had +scarcely taken one step before the moaning was renewed--it changed +into a threatening growl that would have suited a wolf's throat, +and a hand clutched at my sleeve. I stood motionless. The +muttering growl sank to a moan again, the chain sounded no more, +but still the hand held its gripe of my garment, and I feared to +move. It knew of my presence, then. My brain reeled, the blood +boiled in my ears, and my knees lost all strength, while my heart +panted like that of a deer in the wolf's jaws. I sank back, and +the benumbing influence of excessive terror reduced me to a state +of stupor. + +When my full consciousness returned I was sitting on the edge of +the bed, shivering with cold, and barefooted. All was silent, but +I felt that my sleeve was still clutched by my unearthly visitant. +The silence lasted a long time. Then followed a chuckling laugh +that froze my very marrow, and the gnashing of teeth as in demoniac +frenzy; and then a wailing moan, and this was succeeded by silence. +Hours may have passed--nay, though the tumult of my own heart +prevented my hearing the clock strike, must have passed--but they +seemed ages to me. And how were they passed? Hideous visions +passed before the aching eyes that I dared not close, but which +gazed ever into the dumb darkness where It lay--my dread companion +through the watches of the night. I pictured It in every abhorrent +form which an excited fancy could summon up: now as a skeleton; +with hollow eye-holes and grinning, fleshless jaws; now as a +vampire, with livid face and bloated form, and dripping mouth wet +with blood. Would it never be light! And yet, when day should +dawn I should be forced to see It face to face. I had heard that +specter and fiend were compelled to fade as morning brightened, but +this creature was too real, too foul a thing of earth, to vanish at +cock-crow. No! I should see it--the Horror--face to face! And +then the cold prevailed, and my teeth chattered, and shiverings ran +through me, and yet there was the damp of agony on my bursting +brow. Some instinct made me snatch at a shawl or cloak that lay on +a chair within reach, and wrap it round me. The moan was renewed, +and the chain just stirred. Then I sank into apathy, like an +Indian at the stake, in the intervals of torture. Hours fled by, +and I remained like a statue of ice, rigid and mute. I even slept, +for I remember that I started to find the cold gray light of an +early winter's day was on my face, and stealing around the room +from between the heavy curtains of the window. + +Shuddering, but urged by the impulse that rivets the gaze of the +bird upon the snake, I turned to see the Horror of the night. Yes, +it was no fevered dream, no hallucination of sickness, no airy +phantom unable to face the dawn. In the sickly light I saw it +lying on the bed, with its grim head on the pillow. A man? Or a +corpse arisen from its unhallowed grave, and awaiting the demon +that animated it? There it lay--a gaunt, gigantic form, wasted to +a skeleton, half-clad, foul with dust and clotted gore, its huge +limbs flung upon the couch as if at random, its shaggy hair +streaming over the pillows like a lion's mane. His face was toward +me. Oh, the wild hideousness of that face, even in sleep! In +features it was human, even through its horrid mask of mud and +half-dried bloody gouts, but the expression was brutish and +savagely fierce; the white teeth were visible between the parted +lips, in a malignant grin; the tangled hair and beard were mixed in +leonine confusion, and there were scars disfiguring the brow. +Round the creature's waist was a ring of iron, to which was +attached a heavy but broken chain--the chain I had heard clanking. +With a second glance I noted that part of the chain was wrapped in +straw to prevent its galling the wearer. The creature--I cannot +call it a man--had the marks of fetters on its wrists, the bony arm +that protruded through one tattered sleeve was scarred and bruised; +the feet were bare, and lacerated by pebbles and briers, and one of +them was wounded, and wrapped in a morsel of rag. And the lean +hands, one of which held my sleeve, were armed with talons like an +eagle's. In an instant the horrid truth flashed upon me--I was in +the grasp of a madman. Better the phantom that scares the sight +than the wild beast that rends and tears the quivering flesh--the +pitiless human brute that has no heart to be softened, no reason at +whose bar to plead, no compassion, naught of man save the form and +the cunning. I gasped in terror. Ah! the mystery of those +ensanguined fingers, those gory, wolfish jaws! that face, all +besmeared with blackening blood, is revealed! + +The slain sheep, so mangled and rent--the fantastic butchery--the +print of the naked foot--all, all were explained; and the chain, +the broken link of which was found near the slaughtered animals--it +came from his broken chain--the chain he had snapped, doubtless, in +his escape from the asylum where his raging frenzy had been +fettered and bound, in vain! in vain! Ah me! how had this grisly +Samson broken manacles and prison bars--how had he eluded guardian +and keeper and a hostile world, and come hither on his wild way, +hunted like a beast of prey, and snatching his hideous banquet like +a beast of prey, too! Yes, through the tatters of his mean and +ragged garb I could see the marks of the seventies, cruel and +foolish, with which men in that time tried to tame the might of +madness. The scourge--its marks were there; and the scars of the +hard iron fetters, and many a cicatrice and welt, that told a +dismal tale of hard usage. But now he was loose, free to play the +brute--the baited, tortured brute that they had made him--now +without the cage, and ready to gloat over the victims his strength +should overpower. Horror! horror! I was the prey--the victim-- +already in the tiger's clutch; and a deadly sickness came over me, +and the iron entered into my soul, and I longed to scream, and was +dumb! I died a thousand deaths as that morning wore on. I DARED +NOT faint. But words cannot paint what I suffered as I waited-- +waited till the moment when he should open his eyes and be aware of +my presence; for I was assured he knew it not. He had entered the +chamber as a lair, when weary and gorged with his horrid orgy; and +he had flung himself down to sleep without a suspicion that he was +not alone. Even his grasping my sleeve was doubtless an act done +betwixt sleeping and waking, like his unconscious moans and +laughter, in some frightful dream. + +Hours went on; then I trembled as I thought that soon the house +would be astir, that my maid would come to call me as usual, and +awake that ghastly sleeper. And might he not have time to tear me, +as he tore the sheep, before any aid could arrive? At last what I +dreaded came to pass--a light footstep on the landing--there is a +tap at the door. A pause succeeds, and then the tapping is +renewed, and this time more loudly. Then the madman stretched his +limbs, and uttered his moaning cry, and his eyes slowly opened-- +very slowly opened and met mine. The girl waited a while ere she +knocked for the third time. I trembled lest she should open the +door unbidden--see that grim thing, and bring about the worst. + +I saw the wondering surprise in his haggard, bloodshot eyes; I saw +him stare at me half vacantly, then with a crafty yet wondering +look; and then I saw the devil of murder begin to peep forth from +those hideous eyes, and the lips to part as in a sneer, and the +wolfish teeth to bare themselves. But I was not what I had been. +Fear gave me a new and a desperate composure--a courage foreign to +my nature. I had heard of the best method of managing the insane; +I could but try; I DID try. Calmly, wondering at my own feigned +calm, I fronted the glare of those terrible eyes. Steady and +undaunted was my gaze--motionless my attitude. I marveled at +myself, but in that agony of sickening terror I was OUTWARDLY firm. +They sink, they quail, abashed, those dreadful eyes, before the +gaze of a helpless girl; and the shame that is never absent from +insanity bears down the pride of strength, the bloody cravings of +the wild beast. The lunatic moaned and drooped his shaggy head +between his gaunt, squalid hands. + +I lost not an instant. I rose, and with one spring reached the +door, tore it open, and, with a shriek, rushed through, caught the +wondering girl by the arm, and crying to her to run for her life, +rushed like the wind along the gallery, down the corridor, down the +stairs. Mary's screams filled the house as she fled beside me. I +heard a long-drawn, raging cry, the roar of a wild animal mocked of +its prey, and I knew what was behind me. I never turned my head--I +flew rather than ran. I was in the hall already; there was a rush +of many feet, an outcry of many voices, a sound of scuffling feet, +and brutal yells, and oaths, and heavy blows, and I fell to the +ground crying, "Save me!" and lay in a swoon. I awoke from a +delirious trance. Kind faces were around my bed, loving looks were +bent on me by all, by my dear father and dear sisters; but I +scarcely saw them before I swooned again. + +When I recovered from that long illness, through which I had been +nursed so tenderly, the pitying looks I met made me tremble. I +asked for a looking-glass. It was long denied me, but my +importunity prevailed at last--a mirror was brought. My youth was +gone at one fell swoop. The glass showed me a livid and haggard +face, blanched and bloodless as of one who sees a specter; and in +the ashen lips, and wrinkled brow, and dim eyes, I could trace +nothing of my old self. The hair, too, jetty and rich before, was +now as white as snow; and in one night the ravages of half a +century had passed over my face. Nor have my nerves ever recovered +their tone after that dire shock. Can you wonder that my life was +blighted, that my lover shrank from me, so sad a wreck was I? + +I am old now--old and alone. My sisters would have had me to live +with them, but I chose not to sadden their genial homes with my +phantom face and dead eyes. Reginald married another. He has been +dead many years. I never ceased to pray for him, though he left me +when I was bereft of all. The sad weird is nearly over now. I am +old, and near the end, and wishful for it. I have not been bitter +or hard, but I cannot bear to see many people, and am best alone. +I try to do what good I can with the worthless wealth Lady +Speldhurst left me, for, at my wish, my portion was shared between +my sisters. What need had I of inheritance?--I, the shattered +wreck made by that one night of horror! + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Stories by Modern American Authors + |