Glenn’s History.
The young chief, or rather the restored youth, awoke in a few days from
the delirium into which the fever had plunged him, to a state of
convalescence and a consciousness of his altered condition. He now
uttered with earnest tenderness the endearing terms of “sister” and
“father,” when he addressed Mary and Roughgrove. He spoke freely of the
many things he had witnessed while living with the Indians, expressing
his abhorrence of their habits and nature, and declared it was his
intention never to have any further intercourse with them. He promised,
when he should be able to leave his bed, to read and study with Mary
and Glenn, until he had made amends for the neglect of his education.
These symptoms, and the tractable disposition accompanying them, caused
Mary and Roughgrove to rejoice over the return of the long-lost youth,
and to bow in humble thankfulness to the Disposer of events for the
singular and providential circumstances attending his restoration.
Joe had arrived in due course of time, (which was brief,) after his
almost miraculous escape from the savages and the flames, and told his
story with various embellishments. The Indians were hunted the next day
by Sneak and a few of the neighbours, but they had doubtless abandoned
the settlement, for no traces of them remained after their mysterious
flight from the grove.
A few mild days, during which frequent showers had fallen, had in a
great measure removed the snow from the earth. And Joe having soon
forgotten his late perilous adventure, amused himself with the horses.
He resolved to make some amends for their long confinement in the
stable, and to effect it he galloped them several hours each day over
the grounds in the vicinity. The hounds, too, seemed delighted to place
their feet once more on the bare earth, and they were permitted to
accompany the horses in all their excursions.
One night, when William, Mary, and Joe were all quietly sleeping,
Roughgrove took occasion to express his gratitude to Glenn for the many
and important services rendered his family.
“Whatever good may have attended my efforts,” said Glenn, “you may rest
assured that I have been amply repaid in the satisfaction enjoyed
myself.”
“I am sure of it!” exclaimed Roughgrove; “and it was a conviction that
you harboured such sentiments that induced me to confide in you, and to
disclose things which I intended should remain for ever locked within
my own breast.”
“Your confidence shall not be abused,” said Glenn; and to prove that I
am not averse to an exchange of secrets, if you will listen to my
recital, I will endeavour briefly to give you a sketch of _my_
history.”
“I will listen attentively, my young friend, even were it as sad a tale
as mine, which can hardly be the case,” said Roughgrove, drawing his
chair close to Glenn’s side, and placing more fuel on the fire.
“Would to Heaven it had not been!” said Glenn, after reclining his head
on his hands a few minutes, and recalling transactions which he could
have wished to be blotted from his memory for ever. “I am a native of
New York,” he continued, heaving a sigh and folding his arms, “and was
left an orphan at a very early age. My father was once reputed one of
the wealthiest merchants in Broadway; but repeated and enormous losses,
necessarily inexplicable to one of my age, suddenly reduced him to
comparative poverty. Neither he nor my mother survived the blow many
months, and before I was ten years old, I was left (with the exception
of an uncle in Philadelphia) alone in the world, possessed of only a
few hundred dollars. My uncle placed me with an eminent physician, who
had been my father’s friend, after my education was completed. He told
me that he was rich, and would see that I should not suffer for means
until I had acquired a profession, which, with energy and diligence,
would enable me to procure an honourable support. But he informed me
that he had a family of his own, and that I must not depend upon his
assistance further than to accomplish a profession.
“It was during my studies, and when about seventeen years old, that my
misfortunes began. My preceptor had another student, named Henry Wold,
several years my senior, whose parents were wealthy. Wold and I
entertained the highest esteem for each other. But our circumstances
being different, I could not indulge in all the excesses of
extravagance that he did, but made better progress in my studies. He
attended all the gay parties and fashionable places of amusement, while
I seldom spent an evening from home. He was tall, manly, and possessed
of regular and beautiful features—these, with his unlimited wealth,
made him a welcome guest in every circle, and extremely popular with
the ladies.
“One Sabbath morning, while sitting in church, (which I attended
regularly,) I was struck with the appearance of a stranger in an
opposite pew across the aisle that belonged to a family with whom I was
on the most intimate terms. The stranger was the most beautiful young
lady I ever beheld. Dark, languishing eyes, glossy ringlets, pale,
smooth forehead—oh! I will not describe her—let it suffice that she was
an angel in my eyes! It was impossible to remove my gaze from her, and
I fancied that she sometimes returned an approving glance. Before the
service was over, I was delighted to observe that she whispered
something to Mrs. Arras, (the name of the lady whose pew she was in,)
for this assured me that they were acquainted, and that I might obtain
some information about the fair being who had made such a sudden and
deep impression on my heart, and perhaps procure an introduction to
her. When I retired to my couch that night, it was not to sleep. The
image of the fair stranger haunted my restless and imperfect slumbers.
Nor could I study by day, for my thoughts wandered continually from the
page to the same bright vision. Such was my condition throughout the
week. The next Sunday I found her seated in the same pew. Our eyes met,
and a slight blush that mantled her fair face encouraged me to hope
that she might likewise have bestowed some thoughts on me during the
preceding week. It was in vain that I uttered the responses during the
service, or knelt down when the clergyman offered up his prayers. I
could think of nothing but the angelic stranger. I resolved that
another week should not pass without my calling at Mrs. Arras’s. But my
object was obtained sooner than I expected. When the congregation was
dismissed, Mrs. Arras beckoned me across the aisle to her.
“‘Charles,’ whispered she, ‘don’t you want an introduction to my niece?
I saw your eyes riveted on her several times.’
“‘I—if you please,’ I replied, with feelings of mingled delight and
embarrassment.
“‘Laura,’ she continued, turning to the young lady who lingered behind,
but seemed to be conscious of what was passing, ‘let me introduce you
to my young friend, Charles Glenn.’ The bland and accomplished Mrs.
Arras then moved onward, while I attended at the side of Laura, and
continued with her until I assisted her up, the marble steps of her
aunt’s stately mansion.
“I then bowed, and strode rapidly onward, I knew not whither,
(completely bewildered with the enchanting spell that the fair Laura
had thrown over me,) until I reached the extremity of Broadway, and
found myself in Castle Garden, gazing like a very maniac at the bright
water below me. I wandered about alone, enjoying the exhilarating
fancies of my teeming brain, until the sun sunk beneath the horizon,
and the bright stars twinkled in the blue vault above. Oh! the
thoughts, the hopes, the bliss of that hour! The dark curtain that
veils the rankling corruptions of mortality had not yet been lifted
before my staring eyes, and I felt as one gazing at a beautiful world,
and regarded the fair maid as the angel destined to unfold all its
brilliance to my vision, and to hold the chalice to my lips while I
sipped the nectar of perennial felicity. Alas, that such moments are
brief! They fly like the dreams of a startled slumberer, and when they
vanish once, they are gone forever!
“Without calling at my lodgings for the usual refreshments, I hovered
about the mansion of Mrs. Arras till lights were gleaming in the
parlour, and then entered. Laura received me with a smile, and the
complaisant matron gave me an encouraging welcome.
“‘You are pale this evening, Mr. Glenn,’ said Mrs. Arras, in a
good-humoured, though bantering manner. ‘Are you subject to sudden
attacks of illness?’
“‘I assure you I never enjoyed better health in my life, and feel no
symptoms of indisposition whatever,’ I replied, but at that moment I
chanced to gaze at a mirror, and was startled at my haggard appearance.
But when Mrs. Arras withdrew, (which she did soon after my arrival,)
the affable and lovely Laura banished every thought of my condition. My
wan cheek was soon animated with the flush of unbounded admiration, and
my sunken eye sparkled with the effervescence of enraptured delight.
Deep and ineradicable passion was engendering in my bosom. And from the
pleasure indicated in the glitter of Laura’s lustrous eyes, the
exquisite smile that dwelt upon her coral lips, and the gentle though
unconscious swellings of her breast, a conviction thrilled through my
soul that my sudden affection was reciprocated. Hours flew like
minutes, and I was surprised by the clock striking ONE before it
occurred to me that it was time to depart. Again I traversed the
streets at that solemn hour, insensible to every feeling, and
regardless of every object but the flaming torch lit up in my heart and
the seraphic image of Laura. At length I was warned by the scrutinizing
gaze of a watchman to repair to my lodgings. But my pillow afforded no
rest. All night long I pondered on the exhilarating events of the day.
Many were the endearing accents that escaped my lips as I addressed in
fancy my beloved Laura. I resolved to declare my passion ere many weeks
should pass. I began to settle in my mind the plans of life, and then,
for the first time, the future presented a dark spot to my view. I was
poor! Laura was rich and her family proud and aristocratic. Her father
was a distinguished judge. And the most high-born and haughty of the
land would doubtless (if they had not already) sigh at her feet! I
sprang upright on my couch when this discordant thought passed across
my mind. But the next moment I was consoled with the belief that I
already possessed her heart. And with a determination to have her, in
spite of every obstacle, should this be the case, I sank back through
weariness, and was soon steeped in deep, though unquiet slumber.
“The two next succeeding Sundays I attended Laura to church. The
evenings of both days, and nearly all the intervening ones, I was with
her at the mansion of Mrs. Arras. But the evening of the last Sunday
was to me a memorable one. That evening I opened all my heart to Laura,
and found that every pulsation met a responding throb in hers—such, at
least, I believed to be the case—and so she asserted. During the short
time she remained in New York, I was her accredited lover, and ever,
when together, the attachment she manifested was as ardent as mine.
Indeed, at times, her passion seemed unbounded, and I was more than
once tempted to propose a clandestine and immediate union. I was the
more inclined to this, inasmuch as her father (who had now returned
from a trip to Washington) began to regard my visits with displeasure.
But he soon passed on to Boston to attend to the duties of his office,
and again I had unrestrained access to Laura. But I am dwelling too
long on this part of my story.
“One day Henry Wold, my fellow-student, inquired the cause of the
palpable change in my bearing and disposition. Would that my lips had
been sealed to him forever! I knew that he was honest and generous by
nature, but I knew not to what extent his dissolute habits (gradually
acquired by having ample means, and yielding by degrees to the
temptations of vice) had perverted his good qualities. I told him of my
love, and while describing the charms of Laura, I was pleased to
attribute the interest he evinced at the recital to his disinterested
friendship for me, without the thought that _he_ could be captivated
himself with the bare description. He begged me to introduce him. This,
too, gratified my pride, for I knew he would admire her. The perfect
form, rare beauty, intelligence, and wealth of Wold did not startle an
apprehension in my breast. But I knew not—alas! who can know?—the
impulses that govern woman. Wold accompanied me that night to Mrs.
Arras’s. He seated himself at Laura’s side, and poured forth a flood of
flattery. They smiled in unison and returned glance for glance. Wold
exhibited his fine person and exerted all his captivating powers of
intellect. Laura scanned the one and listened attentively to the other.
Still I sat by in satisfaction, and strove to repress every rising fear
that my supremacy in Laura’s heart might be endangered. That evening,
as we returned homeward, in answer to my questions, Wold stated that my
‘intended’ was _pretty enough_ for any young man, and would, without
doubt, make a _very good wife_. So far from exhibiting the extravagant
admiration I expected, he seemed to speak of the object of my adoration
with comparative indifference. But a few evenings afterwards, I found
him with Laura when I arrived! I started back on beholding them seated
on the same sofa as I entered the parlour. Mrs. Arras was present, and
wore a thoughtful expression of features. Laura smiled on me, but I
thought it was not a happy smile. It did not render me happy. Wold
bowed familiarly, and made some witty remark about taking time by the
forelock. I sat down in silence, with a compressed lip, and an icy
chillness in my breast. An embarrassing pause ensued. At length Mrs.
Arras rose, and opening a folding-door, beckoned me into the adjoining
room. After we had been seated a few moments, during which her brow
assumed a more grave and thoughtful cast, she observed—
“‘You seem to be excited to-night, Charles.’
“‘I have cause to be so,’ I replied.
“‘I cannot deny it,’ said she, ‘when I consider every thing that has
transpired. You doubtless have an attachment for Laura—I have _seen_
it—and I confess it was and _would_ be with my goodwill had I control
of the matter. I was acquainted with your family, and acted with the
best of motives when I permitted, perhaps encouraged, the intimacy. But
I thought not of the austere and passionate nature of my
brother-in-law. Neither did I think that any man could object to your
addresses to his daughter. But I was mistaken. Judge ____ has written
that your interviews with Laura must terminate.’
“‘Has he given any reason why?’ I asked, in tremulous tones.
“‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘but such as mortify me as much as they must pain
you. He says that your fortune and family connections are not
sufficient to permit the alliance. Oh, I implore you not to suppose
these to be my sentiments. I know your family is devoid of ignoble
stain, and that your fortune was once second to none. Had I the
disposal of Laura’s hand it should be yours!’
“‘I believe it, Mrs. Arras!’ said I. ‘But do you net think these
objections of Judge ____ may be overcome?’
“‘Alas, never!’ she replied; ‘he is immovable when any thing of moment
is decided in his mind.’
“‘But,’ I continued, while the pulsations of my heart were distinctly
audible, ‘what says Laura?’
“‘Would I had been spared this question! You saw her a few minutes
since. HE who sees all things knows how my heart ached while I sat by.
I can only tell you she had just finished reading her father’s letter
when Mr. Wold was announced. Spare me, now, I beseech you!’ I folded my
arms and gazed, I know not how long, at the flame ascending from the
hearth. Oh! the agony described of the dying were bliss to that moment.
What could I think or do? I sat like one whose heart has been rudely
torn from his breast, and who was yet debarred the relief of death.
Existence to me at that moment was a hell, and my sufferings were those
of the damned! I thank God I have survived them.
“I was aroused from my lethargy by hearing the street door close after
Wold, and I desired Mrs. Arras to permit me to have an interview with
Laura alone. It was granted, and I was soon in the presence of the
lovely maid. She was aware of my perturbation and its cause. She sat
with her eyes cast down in silence. I looked upon her form and her
features of perfect beauty, and oh! what tongue can describe the
mingled and contending emotions that convulsed my breast! I repressed
every violent or boisterous inclination of my spirits, however, and
taking her unresisting hand, sat down in sorrow at her side.
“‘Laura,’ said I, with difficulty finding utterance, ‘do we thus part,
and for ever?’ She made no answer, but gazed steadfastly at the rich
carpet, while her face, though somewhat paler than usual, betrayed no
change of muscle.
“‘Laura,’ I repeated, in tones more distinct, ‘are we _now_ to part,
and _for ever_?’
“‘Father says so,’ she replied. Her hand fell from my grasp. The
unmoved, _indifferent_ manner of her reply froze my blood in my veins!
I again stared at her composed features in astonishment allied to
contempt.
“‘But what do _you_ say?’ I asked, with a bluntness that startled her.
“‘Father knows best, perhaps!’ she replied, turning her eyes to mine, I
thought, with calmness.
“‘Laura,’ said I, again taking her hand, for I was once more subdued by
her beauty, ‘I love you with my whole soul, and must continue to love
you. Ay, were you even to spurn me with your foot, so indissolubly have
my affections grown to your image, that my bleeding heart would turn in
adoration to the smiter. And I fondly hoped and believed that the
passion was returned—indeed, I had your assurance of the fact; nay,
think not I design to reproach you. It were bootless, had I the heart
to do it. Be assured that were you not only cruel to me, but steeped in
crime and guilty of injustice to the whole human race, I would still be
your friend were all others to forsake you. Deem me never your foe, or
capable of ever becoming such. May heaven bless you! We part—but, under
_any_ circumstances, should adverse fortune overtake you and I can be
of service, I beg you not to hesitate to apply to me. You will find me
still your friend. I will not attempt to reverse the decision which you
have made. However humiliating and poignant the thought may be that I
was unconsciously the means of introducing the _object_ that influenced
your decision, yet I will not murmur, neither will I become _his_
enemy, for your sake. I hope you will be happy. I pray that heaven may
incline your heart to be true and _constant_ to Wold.’
“‘I hope so,’ said she in a low tone.
“‘Laura,’ said I, rising, ‘you confess, then, that Wold possesses your
love?’
“‘Yes,’ said she; ‘but I cannot help it!’
“‘Farewell!’ said I, kissing her yielding hand, and turning
deliberately away, though with the sensation of one stunned by a
thunderbolt. I returned home, and threw myself like a loathsome carcass
upon my couch. I could not even think. My mind seemed like some
untenanted recess in the unfathomable depths below. Instantaneous
death, and even eternal perdition afterwards, could have presented no
new horrors then. It was haply the design of Providence that the
thought of self-destruction should not occur to me. With the means in
my reach, I would in all probability have rushed, uncalled and
unprepared, into the presence of an offended Creator.
“A fever and delirium, such as possessed the poor youth lying there,
ensued. Under the kind care of my preceptor, my malady abated in a few
weeks; and, as I recovered, a change took place in my sentiments
regarding the events that produced my illness. My pride rose up to my
relief, and I resolved to overcome the effects of my disappointment.
Yet my heart melted in tenderness when I recalled the blissful moments
I had known with Laura. But I determined to prosecute my plans of life
as if no such occurrence had transpired.
“A few days after bidding Laura adieu, she returned to Boston,
accompanied by Wold. Wold obtained his diploma while I was writhing
with disease. Even the loss of my degree was now borne with patience
and resignation. I forgave Wold, and implored him to make Laura happy.
He promised faithfully to do so when on the eve of setting out with
her. I did not desire to see her myself, but sent my forgiveness and
blessing.
“In a few months my diploma was obtained, and I commenced the practice
under the most favourable circumstances. My late preceptor was now my
partner. Nearly a year elapsed before Wold returned to New York. But a
rumor preceded him which again opened all the fountains of bitterness
in my heart. It was said (and only two or three were possessed of the
secret) that he had betrayed and ruined the lovely Laura! I sought him,
to ascertain from his own lips if he had truly committed the act
imputed to him. I resolved to avenge her! But Wold avoided me. I could
not obtain his ear, and all my notes to him remained unanswered.
Despairing of getting an immediate answer from him, I repaired to Mrs.
Arras. Her house was in gloom and sorrow. When she appeared, my heart
sank within me to behold her sad and mournful brow. She pressed my
extended hand, while a flood of tears gushed from her eyes.
“I knew by the disconsolate aspect of the aunt that the niece had been
dragged down from her high estate of virtue, fortune, and fame. I sat
down, and bowed my head in sorrow many minutes before the first word
was spoken. I still loved Laura. What could I say? how begin?
“‘It is true!’ I at length exclaimed, rising up, and pacing the floor
rapidly, while many a tear ran down my cheek.
“‘Alas! it is too true,’ iterated Mrs. Arras.
“‘The black-hearted villain!’ I continued.
“‘Ah, Mr. Glenn, her fate would have been different, if your addresses
had not been so cruelly spurned! God knows I was not to blame!’ said
she.
“‘No, Mrs. Arras,’ said I; ‘had your will been done, I had not been
made miserable by the bereavement, nor the beautiful, the
innocent—the—Laura, with all her errors, dishonoured, ruined, crushed!
But the betrayer, the viper that stung her, still breathes. I loved
her—I love her yet—and I will be her avenger!’ Saying this, I rushed
away, heedless of the matron’s half-uttered entreaties to remain and to
desist from my plan of vengeance.
“There was a young student of my acquaintance, a brave, chivalrous,
noble Virginian, to whom I imparted Laura’s sad story. He frankly
agreed with me that the venomous reptile in the human shape that could
beguile an unsuspecting and lovely girl to minister to his unhallowed
desires, and then, without hesitation or remorse, abandon her to the
dark, despairing shades of a frowning world, while he crawled on to
insinuate his poison into the breasts of new victims, should be
pursued, hunted down, and exterminated. Yet there was but one way for
me to punish Wold. The ignominy of the act, and the indignation of a
virtuous community were to him matters of indifference. The circle in
which he moved would smile at the misfortune of his victim, and applaud
his address, were the affair published. I resolved that he should
answer it to me alone. I had sworn in my heart to be Laura’s avenger.
“I penned a message which was delivered by my young Virginian friend in
person. Wold said he had no quarrel with me, and strove to evade the
subject. He sent me a note, demanding wherein he had ever wronged me,
and stating that he was ready and willing to _explain_ any thing that
might have offended me. I returned his note, with a line on the same
sheet, informing him that I was the friend of Laura; and that he must
either meet me in the manner indicated in my message, or I would
publicly brand him as a dastardly scoundrel. He bit his lip, and
referred my friend to one of his companions in iniquity, a Mr. Knabb,
who lived by the _profession_ of cards and dice. It was arranged that
we should meet on one of the islands near the city, and that it should
be the next morning. This was what I desired, and I had urged my friend
to effect as speedy a consummation of the affair as possible. All the
tumult and perturbation that raged in my bosom on parting with Laura
had returned, and the throbbing of my brain was almost insufferable. It
was with difficulty that my young friend prevailed upon me to embrace
the few intermediate hours before the meeting to practice with the
pistol. I heeded not his declaration that Wold was an excellent shot,
because I felt convinced that justice was on my side. I thought that
the criminal must inevitably fall. However, I consented to practice a
little to quiet his importunity. Truly, it seemed that his urgent
solicitation was reasonable enough, for the first fire my ball was
several feet wide of the mark. I had never fired a pistol before in my
life. But there was no quivering of nerve, no misgiving as to my fate;
for notwithstanding I was aware of being a novice, yet I entertained a
conviction, a presentiment, that the destroyer of my Laura’s innocence
would fall beneath my hand. The next fire I did better, and soon
learned to strike the centre.
“We were all on the ground at the hour appointed. While the seconds
were arranging the necessary preliminaries, Wold, finding that my eyes
rested steadily upon him, endeavoured to intimidate me. There was a
bush some thirty paces distant, from which a slim, solitary sprout ran
up several feet above the rest of the branches. He gazed an instant at
it while I was marking him, and then raised his pistol, and fired in
the direction. The sprout fell. Turning, his eyes met mine, while a
slight smile was visible on his lip. The effect did not realize his
hopes. I looked upon the act with such cold indifference that he at
first betrayed surprise at my calmness, and then exhibited palpable
signs of trepidation himself. He beckoned Knabb to him, and, after a
brief conference in a low tone, his second returned to my friend, and
inquired if no amends, no reconciliation, could avert the exchange of
shots. My friend reported his words to me, and my reply was that
nothing but the restitution of the maiden’s honour—instant
marriage—would be satisfaction. Wold protested—marriage was utterly
impossible under existing circumstances—but he would do any thing else.
But nothing else would answer; and I insisted on proceeding to business
without further delay. Wold heard me, and became pale. When we were
placed at our respective stations, and while the final arrangements
were being adjusted, I thought his replies to his friend’s observations
betrayed much alarm. But there was no retreat. I was never calmer in my
life, I even smiled when my careful friend told me that he had detected
and prevented a concerted plan that would have given Wold the
advantage. The word was given. Wold’s ball struck the earth before me,
and threw some sand in my face. Mine entered the seducer’s side! I saw
him gasp, reel, and fall, while the blood gushed out on the beach. My
friend hurried me away, and paused not until he had placed me in a
stage just starting for Philadelphia. I clasped his hand in silence,
and the next moment the horses plunged away at the crack of the
driver’s whip, and we were soon far on the road. Reflection ere long
convinced me that I had been guilty of an unjustifiable act. If it was
no crime in the estimation of men, it was certainly a grievous
transgression in the eyes of God! I then trembled. The bleeding form
and reproachful stare of Wold haunted my vision when the darkness set
in. Oh, the errors, in act and deed, of an impetuous youth thrown upon
the world with no considerate friend to advise him! The pity I felt for
Laura was soon forgotten in the horrible thought that I was a MURDERER!
Oh, the anguish of that night! Why did I not leave Wold to the judgment
of an offended God? Why did I not permit him to suffer the gnawing of
the canker that must ever abide in his heart, instead of staining my
hands with his blood? Freely would I have abandoned every hope of
pleasure in the world to have washed his blood away!
[Illustration: “I saw him gasp, reel, and fall.”]
“When I arrived in Philadelphia, with a heavy heart, I sought a quiet
hotel, not daring to confront my uncle with such a tale of woe and
crime. For several days I remained in my chamber without seeing any one
but the servant that brought my food. At length I asked for a New York
paper. For more than an hour after it was brought I could not summon
courage to peruse the hated tragedy. Finally I snatched up the sheet
convulsively and glanced along the columns. When my eyes rested upon
the paragraph I was in quest of, I sprang to my feet in ecstasy. The
wound had not been fatal! Wold still lived!
“In a twinkling I was dressed and on my way to my uncle’s residence.
Notwithstanding there was a dreadful epidemic in the city, and hearses
and mourners were passing every few minutes, I felt within a buoyancy
that defied the terrors of disease and death.
“But it seemed that disaster and desolation were fated to attend me
whithersoever I turned. A gloom brooded upon my heart when I approached
my uncle’s mansion, and found the badge of mourning at the door. I
paused and asked the servant who was dead. He informed me that my uncle
alone remained. His wife and children, all had been consigned to the
tomb the day before, and he himself now lay writhing with the fell
disease. I rushed in and entered the sick chamber. It was the chamber
of death. My uncle pressed my hand and died. I followed him to the
grave, the chief and almost only mourner.
“I returned and shut myself up in the mansion, bewildered and
stupefied. I was now the possessor of immense wealth. But I was
unhappy. I knew not what to do to enjoy life. Gradually the pestilence
abated and disappeared, and by degrees the gloom that oppressed me
subsided. At the end of a few months, I was informed by my young
Virginian friend that Wold had entirely recovered. I likewise received
a letter from Mrs. Arras, stating that Judge ____ had sought out Laura,
(who had been enticed to an obscure part of the city,) and, as her
misfortune had been kept a profound secret among the few, he forgave
the offence, and once more extended to her a father’s love and a
father’s protection. I need not say that a blissful thrill bounded
through my veins. Wold was living, and Laura not irrecoverably lost.
Yet I did not then deem it possible that I could, under such
circumstances, ever desire to possess the once adored, but since truly
fallen, Laura. But I experienced a sweet gratification to be thus
informed of the prospect of her being reinstated in society. My love
was not yet wholly extinguished!
“When it was generally known that I possessed great riches, a crowd of
flatterers and sycophants hovered around me. I was a distinguished
guest at the mansions of the fashionable and great, and had in turn
many brilliant parties at my residence. But among the tinsel and
glitter of the gay world I sought in vain for peace and happiness. Many
beautiful and bewitching belles lavished their sweetest smiles upon me,
but they could not re-ignite the smothered flame in my bosom. Wine
could only exhilarate for a moment, to be succeeded by a gnawing
nausea. Cards could only excite while I lost, to be succeeded by
irritability and disgust.
“Thus my time was spent for twelve months, when I suddenly conceived
the resolution to seek a union with the ill-fated Laura,
notwithstanding all the obloquy the world might attach to the act. I
still loved her in spite of myself. I could not live in peace without
her, and I determined without delay to offer her my hand, heart, and
fortune. I set out for Boston, and on my arrival instantly proceeded to
the residence of Judge ____. Again my evil star was in the ascendant.
Desolation and death presided in Judge ____’s family. The ominous badge
of mourning greeted me at the threshold; Laura’s mother had just been
consigned, broken-hearted, to the cold grave. The venerable Judge bowed
his hoary head to the blows that Providence inflicted. He could not
speak to me. His reply to my offer in relation to his child was only a
flood of tears. He then retreated into his library and locked the door.
An aged domestic told me all. Laura had abandoned her parental roof,
and voluntarily entered one of those sinks of pollution that so much
degrade human nature! I stood upon an awful abyss. The whirlpools of
deceit, ingratitude, indifference, and calumny, howled around me, and
the dark floods of sensual corruption roared below. Turn whithersoever
I might (alas, I thought not of heaven!) gloom, discord, and misery
seemed to be my portion.
“I hurried back to Philadelphia, and strove to mitigate my grief in the
vortex of unrestrained dissipation. I lavished my gold on undeserving
and unthankful objects. I cared not for life, much less for fortune. I
was the victim of a frenzy that rendered me reckless, and bereft me of
calm meditation. My frantic laughter was heard at the gaming-table, and
my plaudits were boisterous at the theatre, but I was a stranger to
enjoyment. There was no pleasure for me. My brawling companions swore I
was the happiest and noblest being on earth. But I knew too well there
was not a more miserable fiend in hell.
“At length disease fortunately arrested my demoniac career before my
wealth was expended. It was my good fortune to secure the services of a
distinguished and skillful physician. He was a benevolent and
universally esteemed _Quaker_. His attention was not only constant, but
soothing and parental. His earnest and tender tones often made me weep.
When I recovered, I resolved to amend my life. This _friend_ had
applied a healing balm to my aching heart. I determined to prosecute my
profession, and before a year elapsed my exertions began to be crowned
with success.
“I was a frequent attendant at the lectures, and on terms of the
closest intimacy with the professors. Indeed, I had a prospect of a
professorship myself. I devoted my attention particularly to the
anatomical department of my studies, which I preferred; and it was in
this department of the institution that I would probably be installed
in a few months. The gentleman who occupied that chair was about to
resign, and, being my friend, used his influence to procure my
election.
“My medical friend invited me one evening to be present at a
dissection, which promised to be one of extreme interest. He described
the subject as one that had elicited the admiration of the class. He
said it was a female of perfect proportions, but who had recently been
an inmate of a brothel of the lowest description. She had, in a state
of beastly inebriation, fallen into the fire. Yet, with the exception
of a small but fatal orifice in the side, her form and features
remained unaltered. I consented to meet him at the hour appointed, and
made my arrangements accordingly.
“That evening there were many more persons in the dissecting-room than
usual. I had now become much more cheerful, and enjoyed the frank
greetings of my many friends with a relish and an ardour that had
hitherto been unknown to me. Many flippant remarks and careless
observations were exchanged in relation to the business before us. We
had become accustomed to such scenes, and habit had rendered us callous
to the reflections and impressions generally produced when gazing upon
the cold lineaments of the dead. Dissection was an indispensable act.
It had been resorted to under the deliberate conviction that it was
necessary to the perfection of science, and in a great degree redounded
to the welfare and preservation of the living. To us the pale inanimate
limbs, and the attenuated, insensible bodies of the dead brought no
disagreeable sensations. We cut and sawed them with the same composed
indifference with which the sculptor hews the marble.
“‘This is a beautiful subject we have to-night, Glenn,’ observed one of
my friends, as we approached the dead body. He then threw up the white
cloth, and exposed the corpse, the head being still obscured. A
breathless silence reigned, while all gazed at the lifeless form in
admiration. She was a perfect Venus! Not having been wasted and
shrivelled by disease, the symmetry of her lineaments was preserved in
all the exactness of life and health. Her bust was full, plump, and the
skin of the most exquisite whiteness, except where it had been marred
by the fire that caused her death. Her limbs surpassed any model I had
ever beheld, round and tapering, smooth and white as ivory. Her ankles
were most admirably turned, and her feet of the smallest dimensions.
Her handsome and gently swelling arms were covered with a slight gauze
of short, dark hair, through which the snowy whiteness of her skin was
displayed to greater advantage. Her hands were extremely delicate, and
indicated that she had been accustomed to ease and luxury.
“I was requested to open her breast and exhibit to the students the
formation and functions of the heart. She was lying on her back, on a
long narrow table, around which the students stood gazing at her fair
proportions. Some reflected in sorrow that so beautiful and lovely a
being should die and be conveyed to the dissecting-room; while others
joked and laughed in a light unfeeling manner. When about to make an
incision with the sharp glittering steel in my hand, for the first time
since I had graduated, I confessed that my nerves were too much
affected by the sight of the subject to proceed, and I begged my
friends to be patient a few minutes, during which I would doubtless
regain my accustomed composure.
“‘What was her name?’ I inquired of the friend who had accosted me on
my entrance.
“‘Haven’t you heard?’ said he, smiling—‘I thought you all knew her.
Nearly every person in the city has heard of her, for she was the most
celebrated and notorious “fallen angel” in the city—celebrated for her
unrivalled beauty and many triumphs, and notorious for her heartless
deceit and reckless disregard of her own welfare. She has led captive
many an unguarded swain by a passing smile in the street, and then
unceremoniously deserted him to join some drunken and beastly party in
an obscure and degraded alley.’
“‘Her name—what was her name?’ I again asked, once more taking up the
knife, my nerves sufficiently braced by the above recital.
“‘Anne R____,’ he replied; ‘I thought,’ he continued, ‘no one could be
ignorant of her name, after hearing a description of her habits.’
“‘_All_ of us,’ I continued, rallying, ‘are not familiar with the
persons and names of the “fallen angels” about town. But let us look at
her face.’ Saying this, I endeavoured to lift the white cloth from her
head, but finding that the resurrectionist had tied a cord tightly
round the muslin enclosing her neck and head, I desisted.
“‘Her face is in keeping with her body and limbs,’ said my merry
friend; ‘she was a perfect beauty. I have seen her in Chestnut Street
every fair day for the last six months, until she got drunk and fell in
the fire.’
“I now proceeded to business, but my flesh quivered as my knife
penetrated the smooth fair breast of the subject. Soon the skin and the
flesh were removed, and the saw grated harshly as it severed the ribs.
When the heart was exposed, all bent forward instinctively, scanning it
minutely, and seemingly with a curiosity to ascertain if it differed
from those of others whose lives were different.
[Illustration: It was Laura, the loved, adored Laura!]
“When the operation was over, my anxiety to see her face returned.
After an ineffectual effort to untie the cord, I became impatient, and
seizing the knife that lay on the table, ripped open the muslin that
hid her features! My God! The knife dropped from my hand, and
penetrating the floor, quivered upright at my feet, while every member
of my body trembled in unison with it! I raised my hands with my
fingers spread out to the utmost tension. My mouth fell open, and my
eyes felt as if they were straining to leap from my head. _It was
Laura_—the loved, adored Laura—_my_ Laura! My friends heard me repeat
the name, and marked with surprise and concern my inexplicably
miserable condition. They gathered round me, and endeavoured to divert
my attention from the dead and now gory body. It was in vain. I heeded
not their words, but gazed steadfastly at the sad features of Laura,
with my hands still uplifted. I was speechless, deaf, and immovable. No
tear moistened my eyes, but burning thoughts rushed through my brain.
My heart was cold, cold. Ah, I remembered how I had loved her once! I
thought of the time when I was happy to bow down at her feet, and in
good faith attribute to her many of the pure qualities pertaining to
_risen_ angels. And this was her end! The beautiful and innocent—the
loving and beloved—the high born and wealthy—the light and joy of fond
and indulgent parents—had been beguiled by the infernal tempter to make
one step aside from the straight and narrow-path of duty—and this was
the result! The sensitive and guileless girl became an incarnate fiend,
callous to every modest and virtuous impulse—scorned by the honest and
good, and hating and undermining the redeeming principles of her
species—rushing from the high station which her ancestors had arduously
laboured for generations to attain, and voluntarily taking up her abode
in the dens of squalid misery and indelible pollution—closing her eyes
to the might and majesty of a merciful God, beckoning her to his
eternal throne in heaven, and giving heed to the fatal devices of the
enemy of mankind, till she was dragged down, down to the innermost
depths of a raging and roaring hell! Such was the fate of Laura. Such
is the fate of thousands who willingly err, though it be ever so
slight, for the sake of enjoying an impious gratification. Poor Laura!
Oh, how I loved her! But it is bootless to think of her now.
“I was gently forced from the dissecting-room by my friends, and
conducted to my home in silence—in silence, because I had no words for
any one. I pressed their hands at the door of my mansion, and bowing,
they departed for their homes to muse over the incidents of the
evening. I entered my silent chamber, but not to rest. I threw open the
casement and gazed out at the genial rays of the moon. The dark green
leaves of the linden trees were motionless, and the silvery rays
struggling through them cast a checkered and faint tint of mingled
light and shade on the pavement beneath. The cool fresh air soothed my
throbbing temples. I sank back in my seat and gazed up at the
innumerable stars in the boundless sky. I thought the stellar host
glittered with unusual brilliance, as if there were a joyous and holy
revelry going on in heaven. My heart grew calm. I felt a conviction
that true happiness, and purity of thought and purpose were
inseparable. I knew that the contaminations of the world had overthrown
many a righteous resolve, and linked the noblest minded with infamy. I
thought of Laura. The seductions of the world had literally prostrated
an angel before my eyes. I determined to _leave_ the world, if not for
ever, at least as long as its temptations to err, in the remotest
degree, were liable to beset my path. I came hither.”
When Glenn finished his narrative, Roughgrove rose in silence, and
producing a small Bible that he always carried about his person, read
in a low, but distinct and impressive tone, several passages which were
peculiarly applicable to the state of their feelings. Glenn then
approached the couch where William slumbered peacefully. A healthful
perspiration rested on his forehead, and a sweet smile played upon his
lips, indicating that his dreams were not among the savage scenes in
which he had so lately mingled. Mary, who had fallen asleep while
seated at his side, overcome with silent watching, yet rested with her
head on the same pillow, precisely in the same attitude she reclined
when Glenn began his recital. Roughgrove took her in his arms, and
placing her softy at her brother’s feet, bestowed a kiss upon her brow,
and retired with Glenn to rest.