There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead--
It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_.
Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up,
when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many
mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very
few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends,
some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those
favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death
would forget to launch his arrows for them.
Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus
lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears
a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of
vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks
to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around.
A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented
villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees,
oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of
Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of
towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant
coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a
fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous
hues of a tropical sunset.
The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and
the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered
at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with
marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were
placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine
were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a
large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate
features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell
disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to
die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that
health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There
was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish
restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest.
At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and
pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure,
the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head
and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she
belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own
soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which
told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance
from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened
countenance corresponded well with her weeds.
The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me
England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such
themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw
your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as
I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne
of God."
"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in
a subdued voice.
"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul.
When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me,
and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees
fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my
beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in
listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?"
"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give
me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments."
Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor
a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody
which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes
closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features.
Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the
reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the
young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as
she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith
could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was
an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned
face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to
suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her.
Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of
sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without,
beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious
musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive
features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars
came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her
tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in
his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to
approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if
irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce.
At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly
away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The
windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that
distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required
a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an
alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its
mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the
apartment.
With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick
youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith,
ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and
interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him;
while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his
features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by
approaching dissolution.
As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned
figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His
prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a
large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he
gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange
expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered
triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith.
"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with
scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within
my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_
drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not
been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that
time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish
from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating
his hatred to me."
Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided
noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the
floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with
light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to
the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a
rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent
to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark
stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he
spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by
a spell.
"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of
good-will to you and yours."
A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She
wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which
faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded,
"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult
in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath
which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the
very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence,
that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint
thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I
pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart,
and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace."
She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand
on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an
expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he
suppressed his emotion, and said calmly--
"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came
hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel
prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least,
if no dearer title were allowed me."
"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured
my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of
dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood,
you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet,
because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life
was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you
come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful
that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour
which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your
hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him."
"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own
headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of
his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love
for you would have prompted me to save your brother."
"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim
with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me
penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I
would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty,
than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not
approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your
presence."
"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm
bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the
rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any
claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not
your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of
poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive
than the home and protection I offer you?"
Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a
brief struggle said with composure--
"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness
ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her
soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect."
"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away
the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak
boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his
majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as
_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray
hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and
sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to
her sufferings."
At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage
of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering
tones--
"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be
borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in
pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to
see. Then we escape your power."
Barclay laughed mockingly.
"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth,
exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that
time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you
dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a
man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another
week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough.
I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine."
Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house,
with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet
slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as
if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above
his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed.
Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated
by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that
he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise
and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that
the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered
with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive
tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty.
Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate
bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in
Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had
not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining
his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and
no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay
reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he
attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his.
From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and
affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and
possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which
was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion
of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and
sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the
auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far
more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors.
He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his
twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution
completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of
early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the
entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the
influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the
hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement
he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would
probably be denied to him.
He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would
entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were
deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will,
his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender
mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his
mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his
father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the
annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession.
Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and
renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off.
He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his
hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith
distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his
passion.
Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought
the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be
deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his
physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would
eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to
witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of
life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That
completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him
without a murmur.
The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as
it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward
the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again
ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room
of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form
which held his earthly fortunes in his hands.
A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and
his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his
affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their
reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority.
In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life
and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched
him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude
his grasp.
The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in
his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown,
whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a
table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was
placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath
came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician
moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured
words of encouragement in his ear.
As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her
deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting
soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother
leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning
tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with
absorbing interest.
Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant,
and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few
hours.
"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of
your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour,"
murmured the dying youth.
With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the
solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and
closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually
regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones
uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the
fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the
attenuated form of the early doomed.
Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest,
and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul.
Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a
beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely
beautiful; and the tempter whispered,
"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of
such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with
such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won
to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed.
What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the
eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance?
Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must
marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of
poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter
will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own
hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own
work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of
your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for
you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it
to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last
moment?"
Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those
terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was
placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do
its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of
two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted
by, and Euston yet continued to breathe.
Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in
peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of
bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those
who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother
looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to
struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful
eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed
that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want.
The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion
of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings
of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless
silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the
monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves
of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of
thunder.
Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if
endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and
grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice,
"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has
been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has
vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your
interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power."
At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room,
and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the
lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the
confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and
stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp
upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint
rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights.
Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of
his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without.
Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of
the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter.