feel much compassion for the poor young men. The scene became very
painful to him, and finding that his aversion to the uncle was
increasing almost beyond concealment, he hastily finished his coffee,
and quitted the room.
When breakfast was over, and they were all leaving the table, old
Culpepper said aside to his nephews: "In founding a hospital for idiots,
I still give you an opportunity of benefiting by my bounty."
They reddened, and were about to quit the parlour, when their uncle,
taking a chair himself, said to them: "Sit down, all of you." They
mechanically obeyed, looking as if they were about to receive sentence
of death. Fanny began to feel frightened, and glided out of the room;
her mother having just followed the departure of the breakfast things.
Colonel Brigham rose also to go, when Mr. Culpepper stopped him, saying:
"Remain, my good friend. Stay and hear my explanation of some things
that must have excited your curiosity."
He then took down the red box. The nephews looked at each other, and a
sort of whisper ran along the line, which ended in their all jumping up
together, and bolting out at the door.
Mr. Culpepper gazed after them awhile, and then turned towards Colonel
Brigham, with a sardonic laugh on his face. "Well, well," said he, "they
are right. It is refreshing to see them for once acting naturally. It
was, perhaps, expecting too much, even of them, to suppose they would
sit still and listen to all I was likely to say, for they know me well.
Yet, if they had not read my will, they would not have dared to quit the
room when I ordered them to remain."
He then proceeded to relate that he was a native of Quebec, where, in
early life, he had long been engaged in a very profitable commercial
business, and had been left a widower at the age of forty. A few years
afterwards, he married again. His second wife was a lady of large
fortune, which she made over to him, on condition that he should take
her family name of Culpepper. The Mr. Lambleys were the nephews of his
wife, being the children of her younger sister. On the death of their
parents, he was induced by her to give them a home in his house.
The four Lambleys had very little property of their own, their father
having dissipated nearly all that he had acquired by his marriage. They
had been educated for professions, in which it was soon found that they
had neither the ability nor the perseverance to succeed; their whole
souls seeming concentrated to one point, that of gaining the favour of
their uncle (who lost his second wife a few years after their marriage),
and with this object they vied with each other in a course of
unremitting and untiring servilities, foolishly supposing it the only
way to accomplish their aim of eventually becoming his heirs.
All that they gained beyond the payment of their current expenses, was
Mr. Culpepper's unqualified contempt. He made a secret resolution to
revenge himself on their duplicity, and to disappoint their mercenary
views by playing them a trick at the last, and he had a will drawn up,
in which he devised his whole property to the establishment of a
hospital. This will he always carried about with him in the red morocco
box.
He had come to the United States on a tour for the benefit of his
health, and also to satisfy himself as to the truth of all he had heard
respecting the unparalleled improvement of the country since it had
thrown off the yoke which his fellow-subjects of Canada were still
satisfied to wear.
"And now," continued Mr. Culpepper to his landlord, "you have not seen
all that is in the red box. I know not by what presentiment I am
impelled; but, short as our acquaintance has been, I cannot resist an
unaccountable inclination to speak more openly of my private affairs to
you, Colonel Brigham, than to any person I have ever met with. I feel
persuaded that I shall find no cause to regret having done so. It is a
long time since I have had any one near me to whom I could talk
confidentially." And he added, with a sigh: "I fear that I may say with
Shakspeare's Richard, 'there is no creature loves me.'"
Mr. Culpepper then opened the red box, and took out from beneath the
will and several other documents that lay under it, a folded paper,
which he held in his hand for some moments in silence. He then gave it
to Colonel Brigham, saying, "Do you open it; I cannot. It is more than
twenty years since I have seen it."
The Colonel unfolded the paper. It contained a small miniature of a
beautiful young lady, in a rich but old-fashioned dress of blue satin,
with lace cuffs and stomacher, her hair being drest very high, and
ornamented with a string of pearls, arranged in festoons. Colonel
Brigham looked at the miniature, and exclaimed in a voice of
astonishment: "This is the likeness of Oliver's mother!"
"Oliver's mother!" ejaculated Mr. Culpepper, in equal amazement;
"Oliver--what, the young man that lives with you--that you call your
adopted son? This is the miniature of my daughter, Elizabeth Osborne."
"Then," replied the Colonel, "your daughter was Oliver's mother."
"Where is she?" exclaimed Culpepper, wildly. "Is she alive, after
all?--When I heard of her death I believed it.--Do you know where she
is?"
"She is dead," said Colonel Brigham, passing his hand over his eyes.--"I
saw her die;--I was at her funeral.--I can bring you proof enough that
this is the likeness of Oliver's mother.--Shall I tell my wife of this
discovery?"
"You may tell it to your whole family," answered Mr. Culpepper, throwing
himself back in his chair.--"You are all concerned in it.--Why, indeed,
should it be a secret?"
Colonel Brigham left the room, and shortly after returned, conducting
his wife, who was much flurried, and carried an enormously large
pocket-book, worked in queen-stitch with coloured crewels. She was
followed by Fanny, looking very pale, and bringing with her some sewing,
by way of "having something in her hands." They found Mr. Culpepper with
his face covered, and evidently in great agitation.
"See," said Mrs. Brigham, sitting down before him, and untying the red
worsted strings of the pocket-book, "here's the very fellow to that
likeness." She then took out an exact copy of the miniature. There were
also some letters that had passed between the father and mother of
Oliver, previous to their marriage.
"I keep these things in my best pocket-book," continued Mrs. Brigham;
"husband gave them into my keeping, and when Oliver is twenty-one (which
will not be till next spring), they are all to go to him."
Mr. Culpepper gazed awhile at the miniature, and then turned over the
letters with a trembling hand. "I see," said he, "that there is no flaw
in the evidence. This is, indeed, a copy of my daughter's miniature.
These letters I have no desire to read, for, of course, they refer to
the plot that was in train for deceiving me. And they thought they had
well succeeded. But their punishment soon came, in a life of privation
and suffering, and in an early death to both. May such be the end of all
stolen marriages!--Still, she was my daughter; my only child.--So much
the worse; she should not have left me for a stranger."
It was painful and revolting to the kind-hearted Brighams to witness the
conflict between the vindictive spirit of this unamiable old man, and
the tardy rekindling of his parental feelings. In a few moments he made
an effort to speak with connexion and composure, and related the
following particulars. After the unsuccessful attack on Quebec, by the
gallant and ill-fated Montgomery, a young American officer, who had been
severely wounded in the conflict, was brought into the city, and
received the most kind and careful attendance from the family of a
gentleman who had once been intimately acquainted with his father. The
family who thus extended their hospitality to a suffering enemy, were
the next-door neighbours of Mr. Culpepper, whose name was then Osborne.
Captain Dalzel was a handsome and accomplished young man, and his case
excited much interest among the ladies of Quebec, and in none more than
in Miss Osborne, who, from her intimacy in the house at which he was
staying, had frequent opportunities of seeing him during his long
convalescence. A mutual attachment was the consequence, and it was kept
a profound secret from her father, who had in view for her a marriage
with a Canadian gentleman of wealth and consequence.
When Captain Dalzel was about to return home on being exchanged, he
prevailed on Miss Osborne to consent to a secret marriage. Mr. Culpepper
acknowledged that on discovering it he literally turned his daughter out
of doors, and sent back unopened a letter which she wrote to him from
Montreal. From that time he never suffered her name to be mentioned in
his presence; and he was almost tempted to consign to the flames a
miniature of her, that had been painted for him by an English artist,
then resident in Quebec. But a revulsion of feeling so far prevailed, as
to prevent him from thus destroying the resemblance of his only child;
and he put away the miniature with a firm resolution never to look at it
again. Five years afterwards he heard accidentally of Captain Dalzel's
having fallen in battle, and that Elizabeth had survived him but a few
days.
"And how did you feel when you heard this?" asked Colonel Brigham.
"Feel," replied Culpepper, fiercely; "I felt that she deserved her fate,
for having deceived her father, and taken a rebel for her husband, and
an enemy's country for her dwelling-place."
Fanny shuddered at the bitter and implacable tone in which these words
were uttered, and the Brighams were convinced that, with such a parent,
Miss Osborne's home could at no time have been a happy one.
"But," continued old Culpepper, after a pause, "I will confess, that
since I have been in your country, I have felt some 'compunctious
visitings;' and I had determined not to leave the States without making
some inquiry as to my daughter having left children."
"She had only Oliver," replied Colonel Brigham.
"The boy's features have no resemblance to those of his mother," said
Culpepper; "still there is something in his look that at once
prepossessed me in his favour. But tell me all that you know about his
parents?"
The colonel's narrative implied, that he had been well acquainted with
Captain Dalzel, who was of the Virginia line, and who was mortally
wounded at Yorktown, where he died two days after the surrender;
consigning to the care of Colonel Brigham a miniature of his wife, which
he said was procured before his marriage from an artist whom he had
induced to copy privately one that he was painting for the young lady's
father.
The war being now considered as ended by the capture of Cornwallis and
his army, Colonel Brigham repaired to Philadelphia, where her husband
had informed him that Mrs. Dalzel was living in retired lodgings. He
found that the melancholy news of Captain Dalzel's fate had already
reached her; and it had caused the rupture of a blood-vessel, which was
hurrying her immediately to the grave. She was unable to speak, but she
pointed to her child (then about four years old), who was sobbing at her
pillow. The colonel, deeply moved, assured her that he would carry the
boy home with him to his wife, and that while either of them lived, he
should never want a parent. A gleam of joy lighted up the languid eyes
of Mrs. Dalzel, and they closed to open in this world no more.
The anguish evinced by Mr. Culpepper at this part of the narrative, was
such as to draw tears from Mrs. Brigham and Fanny. The colonel dwelt no
further on the death of Mrs. Dalzel, but concluded his story in as few
words as possible, saying that he carried the child home with him; that
his wife received him gladly; and that not one of the relations of
Captain Dalzel (and he had none that were of near affinity) ever came
forward to dispute with him the charge of the boy. Captain Dalzel, he
knew, had possessed no other fortune than his commission.
When Colonel Brigham had finished his tale,----
"Well," said Mr. Culpepper, making a strong effort to recover his
composure, "perhaps I treated my daughter too severely, in continuing to
cherish so deep a resentment against her. But why did she provoke me to
it? However, the past can never be recalled. I must endeavour to make
her son behave better to me. Where is Oliver? Let me see him
immediately."
He had scarcely spoken when Oliver entered the porch, accompanied by the
four Lambleys, whom he had met strolling about lonely and uncomfortable,
and he kindly offered to show them round the farm, not knowing what
better he could do for them. They had just completed their tour; and
though it was a beautiful farm, and in fine order, the Lambleys had
walked over it without observing anything, being all the time engaged in
inveighing bitterly to Oliver against their uncle. Oliver regarded them
as so many Sinbads ridden by the Old Man of the Sea, and advised them to
throw him off forthwith.
"Come in, Oliver," said Colonel Brigham; "you are wanted here."
Oliver entered the parlour, and the Lambleys remained in the porch and
looked in at the windows, curious to know what was going on.
"Come in, all of you," said Mr. Culpepper.
They mechanically obeyed his summons, and entered the parlour.
Mr. Culpepper then took Oliver by the hand, and said to him in a voice
tremulous with emotion, "Young man, in me you behold your grandfather."
Oliver changed colour, and started back, and Mr. Culpepper was deeply
chagrined to see that this announcement gave him anything but pleasure.
The story was briefly explained to him, and Mr. Culpepper added, "From
this moment you may consider yourself as belonging to me. I like
you--and I will leave my money to you rather than to found a hospital."
"You had better leave it to these poor fellows, that have been trying
for it so long," said Oliver, bluntly.
The nephews all regarded him with amazement.
"Hear me, Oliver," said Mr. Culpepper; "It is not merely because you are
my grandson, and as such my legal heir--unless I choose to dispose of my
property otherwise--but I took a fancy to you the moment I saw you, when
I could not know that you were of my own blood. As to those fellows, I
have had enough of them, and no doubt they have had enough of me. I have
towed them about with me already too long. It is time I should cut the
rope, and turn them adrift. No doubt they will do better when left to
shift for themselves."
The Lambleys exhibited visible signs of consternation.
"Oliver," continued Mr. Culpepper, "prepare to accompany me to Canada.
There you shall live with me as my acknowledged heir, taking the name of
Culpepper, and no longer feeling yourself a destitute orphan."
"I never have felt myself a destitute orphan," said Oliver, looking
gratefully at Colonel and Mrs. Brigham, both of whom looked as if they
could clasp him in their arms.
"I promise you every reasonable enjoyment that wealth can bestow,"
pursued Mr. Culpepper.
"I have all sorts of reasonable enjoyments already," answered Oliver. "A
fine farm to take care of; a capital gun; four excellent dogs; and such
horses as are not to be found within fifty miles; fine fishing in the
Susquehanna; plenty of newspapers to read, and some books too; frolics
to go to, all through the neighbourhood; and now and then a visit to the
city, where I take care to see all the shows."
"Nonsense," said Mr. Culpepper; "what is all this compared to an
introduction to the best society of Quebec?"
"And what better than all this is done by the best society of Quebec?"
inquired Oliver.
Mr. Culpepper did not answer this question; but continued: "There is
another consideration of still more consequence: As my grandson and
heir, I can insure you an opportunity of marrying a lady of family and
fortune."
"I would rather marry Fanny," said Oliver.
At this spontaneous and unequivocal announcement, Colonel and Mrs.
Brigham each caught one of Oliver's hands, unable to conceal their joy.
A flush passed over Fanny's face, and she half rose up, and then sat
down again. At last she said, with sparkling eyes, and a curl of her
lip, "How do you know that Fanny will have you?" And she pursued her
work with such eagerness, that she forgot to replenish her needle, and
went on sewing without a thread.
There was a silence a few moments, and then Mr. Culpepper proceeded: "In
short, Oliver, you must go with me to Canada, and settle there for
life."
"First listen to me," said Oliver, "for I am going to make a speech, and
I intend to abide by it.--As to your being my grandfather, that is a
thing I cannot help. You must not expect me to be taken with a sudden
affection for you, and to feel dutiful all at once, when I never saw you
in my life till yesterday. Maybe it might come after awhile; but that is
quite a matter of doubt, as I fear we should never suit each other at
all. Neither will I ever consent to go and live in Canada, and be under
the rule of a king. My father died in trying to get free from one. I
like my own country, and I like the way of living I am used to; and I
like the good friends that have brought me up. And if Fanny won't have
me, I dare say I can find somebody that will."
The Brighams looked reproachfully at their daughter, who held down her
head and gave her sewing such a flirt, that it fell from her hand on the
floor and the Lambleys picked it up.
"Another thing," proceeded Oliver to Mr. Culpepper, "this is your will,
is it not?" (putting his hand on it as it lay beside the red box). "Now
tell me if there are any legacies in it?"
"Not one;" replied Mr. Culpepper, "the whole is left to endow a hospital
for idiots. I knew nobody that deserved a legacy."
"So much the worse," said Oliver, "it looks as if you had no friends.
You had better make another will."
"I intend to do so," replied Culpepper.
"Then," said Oliver, "this is of no use; and the sooner there is an end
of it the better;"--and he threw it into the fire, where it was
instantly consumed.
The Lambleys were so frightened at this outrageous act (for so it
appeared to them), that they all tried to get out of the room. Mrs.
Brigham spread her hands with a sort of scream; her husband could not
help laughing; Fanny again dropped her work, and nobody picked it up.
Mr. Culpepper frowned awfully; but he was the first to speak, and said,
"Young man, how have you dared to do this?"
"I can dare twice as much," replied Oliver;--"I have shot a bear face to
face. One hard winter there were several found in the woods not ten
miles off. Suppose, Mr. Culpepper, you were to die suddenly (as you
possibly may in a fit or something), before you get your new will made!
This would then be considered the right one, and your money after all
would go to that idiot hospital."
"You are the most original youth I have ever met with," said Culpepper;
"I know not how it is; but the more you oppose me, the better I like
you."
The nephews looked astonished.
"Still," observed Oliver, "it would never do for us to live together.
For myself, I neither like opposing nor submitting; never having been
used to either."
"It is not possible," said Culpepper, "that you mean seriously to refuse
my offer of protection and fortune?"
"As to protection," replied Oliver; "I can protect myself. And as to
fortune, I dare say I can make one for myself. And as to that other
thing, the wife, I shall try to get one of my own sort--Fanny, or
somebody else. And as to the name of Culpepper, I'll never take it."
"And will you really not go with me to Canada?"
"No! positively I will not. I believe, though, I ought to thank you for
your offers, which I now do. No doubt they were well meant. But here I
intend to stay, with the excellent people that took me when nobody else
would, and that have brought me up as their own child. I know how sorry
they would be were I to leave them, and yet they have had the
forbearance not to say one word to persuade me to stay. So it is my firm
determination to live and die with them."
He then shook hands with each of the old Brighams, who were deeply
affected, and threw their arms round him. Fanny, completely overcome,
entirely off her guard, flew to Oliver, hid her face on his shoulder,
and burst into tears. He kissed her cheek, saying, "Now, Fanny, I hope
we understand each other;"--and Colonel Brigham put his daughter's hand
into Oliver's.
"So then," said Mr. Culpepper, "I have found a grandson but to lose him.
Well, I deserve it."
The nephews looked as if they thought so too.
"What shall I do now?" continued the old man dolorously.
"Take your nephews into favour again," said Oliver.
"They never were in favour," replied the uncle.
"At all events treat them like men."
"It is their own fault. Why do they not behave as such?"
The old gentleman walked about in much perturbation. At last he said to
the Lambleys, "Young men, as you took a most nefarious method of
discovering my intentions towards you, and as I never had a doubt
respecting the real motive of all your obsequiousness to me, there is no
use in attempting any farther disguise on either side. When masks are
only of gauze, it is not worth while to wear them. Try then if you can
be natural for a little while, till I see what can be done with you. You
will find it best in the end. And now, I think, we will go away as soon
as possible. The longer I stay here, the more difficult I shall find it
to leave Oliver."
To be brief.--Mr. Culpepper and his nephews departed in about an hour,
in a vehicle belonging to the General Wayne, and which was to carry them
to the nearest village from whence they could proceed to New York.
At parting, Mr. Culpepper held out his hand and said, "Oliver, for once
call me grandfather."
Oliver pressed his hand, and said, "Grandfather, we part friends." The
old gentleman held his handkerchief to his eyes, as he turned from the
door, and his nephews looked nohow.
In about a month, Oliver received a parcel from Mr. Culpepper,
containing the little red morocco box, in which was a letter and some
papers. The letter was dated from New York. The old gentleman informed
his grandson, that he had been so fortunate as to engage the affections
and obtain the hand of a very beautiful young lady of that city (the
youngest of eight sisters, and just entering her seventeenth year), who
had convinced him, that she married only from the sincerest love.
Finding no farther occasion for his nephews, he had established them
all in business in New York, where no doubt they would do better than in
Canada. He sent Oliver certificates for bank stock to a considerable
amount, and requested him, whenever he wanted more money for the
enlargement or improvement of the farm, to apply to him without scruple.
This letter arrived on the day of Oliver's marriage with Fanny; on which
day the sign of the General Wayne was taken down, and the tavern became
once more a farm-house only; Mrs. Brigham having been much troubled by
the interruptions she sustained from customers, during her immense
preparations for the wedding, and determining that on the great occasion
itself, she would not be "put out" by the arrival of any guest, except
those that were invited.
Colonel Brigham, never having approved of the sign, was not sorry to see
it removed; and Mrs. Brigham, thinking it a pity to have it wasted, made
it do duty in the largest bedchamber as a chimney-board.
In a few years the Colonel found sufficient employment for most of his
time in playing with Fanny's children, and such was his "green old age,"
that when upwards of seventy, he was still able to take the
superintendence of the farm, while Oliver was absent at the seat of the
state government, making energetic speeches in the capacity of an
assembly-man.
THE OFFICERS:
A STORY OF THE LAST WAR WITH ENGLAND.
----"All furnished, all in arms,
All plumed like estridges."--SHAKSPEARE.
Sophia Clements had just arrived in Philadelphia on a visit to her
sister, Mrs. Darnel, the widow of a merchant who had left his family in
very affluent circumstances. The children were a son now settled in
business at Canton, two very pretty daughters who had recently quitted
school, and a boy just entering his twelfth year.