Wild Western Scenes

by J. B. Jones

  CHAPTER XIII.

  The return--The young chief in confinement--Joe's fun--His reward--Thering--A discovery--William's recognition--Memories of childhood--Ascene--Roughgrove's history--The children's parentage.

  The party on their return did not travel so rapidly as they hadadvanced. They moreover halted in a grove which they espied aboutmidnight, and finding a spreading tree that had entirely shielded asmall space of ground from the snow, they kindled a fire, arrangedtheir robes, and reposed a few hours. The captive chief was stillsullen and unresisting. He was suffered to recline in the sledenveloped in skins, with his hands and feet yet bound, and an extracord passed round his body, the end of which Sneak held in his handwhile he slept. When daylight appeared, they set forward again in amoderate pace, and arrived at Glenn's domicil at evening twilight. Theneighbours that Sneak had enlisted departed for their homes, and Booneand Col. Cooper, after bidding our hero, Roughgrove, and Mary, ahearty adieu, without entering the inclosure, recrossed the river totheir own settlement.

  The remainder of the party, except the oarsmen, accepted Glenn'sinvitation to remain with him till morning. When the gate was thrownopen, the faithful hounds manifested great delight to behold theirmaster again, and also Mary, for they pranced so much in the pathbefore them that it was almost impossible to walk. They barked inecstasy. The poor fawn had been forgotten, neglected, and had sufferedmuch for food. Mary placed her arm round its neck and wept. Glennordered Joe, who was in the stable caressing the horses, to feed thedrooping pet instantly.

  The party then entered the house, leading in the chief, and soon afterSneak had a bright fire blazing on the hearth.

  The food that remained from the last repast amply sufficed, thecaptive refusing to partake with them, and Joe having dined during thelast twelve miles of the journey on the way.

  "How we'll be able to keep this Indian here, when we go out, I shouldlike to know," said Joe, regarding the manly and symmetrical form ofthe young chief, who was now unbound, and sat silent and thoughtful bythe fire.

  "I think he ought to be killed," said Sneak.

  "Oh, no!" said Mary; "he is not bad like the other Indians." TheIndian, for the first time since his capture, raised his head whileshe spoke, and looked searchingly in her face. "Oh!" continued Mary,thinking of the horrors of savage warfare, and bursting into tears,"you will never attempt to kill any of us again, will you?"

  "No!" said the chief, in a low but distinct tone. Every one in thehouse but Mary started.

  "You understand our language, do you? Then why did you not answer myquestions?" asked Roughgrove, turning to the captive. The young chiefmade no answer, but sat with his arms folded, and still regarding thefeatures of Mary.

  "He's a perfect fool!" said Sneak.

  "He's a snake in the grass, and'll bite some of us some of thesetimes, before we know any thing about it," said Joe.

  "Be silent," said Glenn. "If the hope that fills my breast should berealized, the young chief will cause more rejoicing than sorrowingamong us. The wisdom of Providence surpasses all human understanding.Events that bear a frightful import to the limited comprehensions ofmortals, may nevertheless be fraught with inestimable blessings. Eventhe circumstance of your capture, Mary, however distressing at thetime to yourself and to all your friends, may some day be looked uponas a happy and fortunate occurrence."

  "I hope so," said Mary.

  "God is great--is present everywhere, and governs every thing--let usalways submit to his just decrees without murmuring," said the oldferryman, his eyes brightening with fervent devotion.

  "They've a notion to preach a little, I believe," whispered Sneak toJoe.

  "Let 'em go ahead, then," replied Joe, who was busily engaged with along switch, that he occasionally thrust in the fire, and when the endwas burnt to a coal, slyly applied it to the heel of the young chiefsmoccasin.

  "You'd better not let him ketch you at that," said Sneak.

  "He'll think its a tick biting him--I want to see if the Indiansscratch like other people," said Joe.

  Mary, being so requested by her father, began to relate every thingthat transpired up to her rescue, while she was in the possession ofthe savages. The Indian riveted his eyes upon her during the recital,and seemed to mark every word. Whether he understood all she said, orwas enchanted with her soft and musical tones, could not beascertained; but the listeners more than once observed withastonishment his gleaming eyes, his attentive attitude, and theintense interest exhibited in his face. It was during a moment when hewas thus absorbed that he suddenly sprang erect. Joe threw down hisswitch, convulsed with internal laughter. Sneak leaned back againstthe wall, and while he grinned at the amusing scene, seemed curious toknow what would be the result. Mary paused, and Glenn inquired thecause of the interruption.

  "Its nothing, hardly," said Sneak: "only a spark of fire got agin theIndian's foot. He ain't as good pluck as the other one we had--hecould stand burning at the stake without flinching."

  "Did either of you _place_ the fire against his foot?" demanded Glenn,in something like anger. But before he could receive an answer, theyoung chief, who had whirled round furiously, and cast a fierce lookat his tormentor, relaxing his knit brows into an expression ofcontempt, very deliberately took hold of Joe's ear, and turning on hisheel like a pivot, forced him to make many circles round him on thefloor.

  "Let go my ear!" roared Joe, pacing round in pain.

  "Hold your holt, my snarvilerous yaller prairie dog!" cried Sneak,inexpressibly amused.

  "Let go my ear, I say!" cried Joe, still trotting round, with bothhands grasping the Indian's wrist. "Mr. Glenn! Mr. Glenn!" continuedJoe, "he's pinching a hole through my ear! Shoot him down, shoot himdown. There's my gun, standing against the wall--but its not loaded!Take my knife--oh, he's tearing my ear off!" When the Indian thoughthe was sufficiently punished, he led him back to his seat, andrelinquished his hold. He then resumed his own seat, and composedlyturning his eyes to Mary, seemed to desire her to proceed with thenarration. She did so, but when she spoke of her attempt to escape inthe prairie, of the young chief's noble conduct, and his admiration ofher ring (and she pulled off her glove and exhibited it as she spoke,)he again rose from his seat, and walking, apparently unconsciously, towhere she reclined upon her father's knees, fixed his eyes upon thejewel in a most mysterious manner. He no longer dwelt upon themaiden's sweet tones. He did nothing but gaze at the ring.

  "He's got a notion to steal that ring!" said Joe, with a sneer.

  "Shot your mouth!" said Sneak, observing that Mary lookedreproachfully at Joe, and paused.

  "Don't talk that way, Joe!" said the offended girl. "If he wanted it,why did he not take it when I was his prisoner? I will freely let himhave it now," she continued, slipping it off from her finger.

  "No! keep it, child--it is a family ring," said Roughgrove.

  "I will lend it to him--I know he will give it me again," shecontinued, placing it in the extended hand of the young chief, whothanked her with his eyes, and resumed his seat. He now seemed todisregard every thing that was said or done, and only gazed at thering, which he held first in one hand and then in the other, with thesparkling diamond uppermost. Sometimes he would press his foreheadwith his hand and cover his eyes, and then gaze at the ring again.Then staring wildly around, and slightly starting, he would bite hisfingers to ascertain whether the scene was reality or a dream.Finally, giving vent to a piteous sigh, while a tear ran down hisstained cheek, he placed his elbows upon his knees, and, bendingforward, seemed to muse over some event of the past, which the jewelbefore him had called to remembrance.

  Glenn narrowly watched every look and motion of the young chief, andwhen Mary finished the account of her capture, he introduced thesubject of the lost child, Mary's brother, that Roughgrove had spokenabout before starting in pursuit of the war-party.

  "I can remember him!" said Mary, "and mother, too--they are both inheaven now--poor brother! poor mother!"

  The young chief raised his h
ead quickly, and staring at the maiden'sface, seemed to regard her tears and her features with an interestsimilar to that of a child when it beholds a rare and curious toy.

  "Has it not occurred to you," said Glenn, addressing Roughgrove, "thatthis young chief might possibly be your own son?"

  "No!" replied the old man, promptly, and partially rising, "_he_ myson--_he_ Mary's brother--and once in the act of plunging thetomahawk--"

  "But, father," interrupted Mary, "he would never have harmed me--Iknow he would not--for every time he looked me in the face he seemedto pity me, and sometimes he almost wept to think I was away from myfriends, among savages, cold and distressed. But I don't think he canbe my brother--my little brother I used to love so much--yet I couldnever think how he should have fallen in the river without my knowingit. Sometimes I remember it all as if it were yesterday. He washunting wild violets--"

  "Oh! oh!" screamed the young chief, springing from his seat towardsMary. Fear, pain, apprehension, joy and affection, all seemed to bemingled in his heaving breast.

  "He's crazy, dod"--the word died upon Sneak's lip.

  "I should like to know who burnt his foot then," said Joe.

  "Silence! both of you," said Glenn.

  "What does he mean?" at length asked Roughgrove, staring at the youngchief.

  "Let us be patient, and see," said Glenn.

  Ere long the Indian turned his eyes slowly downward, and resumed hisseat mournfully and in silence.

  "Oh!" said Mary, "if he _is_ my poor brother, my heart will burst tosee him thus--a wild savage."

  "How old are you, Mary?" asked Glenn.

  "Nineteen," said she.

  "Your brother, then, has been lost thirteen years. He may yet berestored to you--re-taught our manners and speech--bless his agedfather's declining years, and merit sister's affection."

  "Oh! Mr. Glenn! is he then alive? is this he?" cried Mary.

  "No, child!" said Roughgrove, "do not think of such a thing, for youwill be most bitterly disappointed. Your brother was _white_--look atthis Indian's dark face!"

  Glenn approached the chief, extending his hand in a friendly manner.It was frankly grasped. He then gently drew the furs aside and exposedthe young man's shoulder. It was as white as his own! Roughgrove,Mary, and all, looked on in wonder. The young chief regarded it withsingular emotions himself. He seemed to associate it in some mannerwith the ring he held, for he glanced from one to the otheralternately.

  "Did Mary wear that ring before the child was lost?" asked Glenn.

  "No," replied Roughgrove, "but her mother did."

  "I believe he is your son!" said Glenn. "Mary," he continued, "haveyou any trinkets or toys you used to play with?"

  "Yes. Oh, let me get them!" she replied, and running to a corner ofthe room where her father's chests and trunks had been placed, sheproduced a small drum and a brass toy cannon. "He used to play withthese from morning till night," she continued, placing them on thefloor. She had not taken her hand away from them, before the youngchief sprang to her side and cried out--

  "They're mine! they're mine! they're William's!"

  "What was the child's name?" asked Glenn, quickly.

  "William! William!" cried Mary. "It is my brother! it is my poorbrother William!" and without a moment's hesitation she threw her armsround his neck, and sobbed upon his breast!

  "The poor, poor child!" said Roughgrove, in tremulous tones, embracingthem both, his eyes filled with tears.

  "Sister! sister!" said the youth, gazing in partial bewilderment atMary.

  "Brother, brother! I am your sister!" said Mary, in tones of thrillingtenderness.

  "But mother! where's mother?" asked the youth. The father and sisterbowed their heads in silence. The youth, after clinging fondly to Marya few minutes, started up abruptly and looked amazed, as if wakingfrom a sweet dream to the reality of his recent dreadful condition.

  "Brother, why do you look so coldly at us? Why don't you press us toyour heart?" said Mary, still clinging to him. The youth's featuresgradually assumed a grave and haughty cast, and, turning away, hewalked to the stool he had occupied, and sat down in silence.

  "I will win him from the Indians," said Mary, running after him, andsitting down at his side.

  "Ugh!" exclaimed the youth in displeasure, and moved a short distanceaway.

  "He's not true grit--I 'most wish I had killed him," said Sneak.

  "Yes, and pinch me if I don't burn him again, if I get a chance," saidJoe.

  "Silence!" said Glenn, sternly. For many minutes not a word wasspoken. At length Mary, who had been sobbing, raised her head andlooked tenderly in the face of her brother. Still he regarded her withindifference. She then seized the toy-drum, which with the otherarticles had been thrust out of view, and placed them before him. Whenhis eyes rested upon them; the severe and wild expressions of hisfeatures again relaxed. The young war-chief was a child again. Heabandoned his seat and sat down on the floor beside his sister.Looking her guilelessly in the face, an innocent and boyish smileplayed upon his lips.

  "You won't go away again and leave your poor sister; will you,William?" said Mary.

  "No, indeed. And when the Indians come we'll run away and go tomother, won't we, Mary?" said the youth, in a complete abandonment oftime and condition.

  "He _is_ restored--restored at last!" exclaimed Roughgrove, walkingacross the room to where the brother and sister sat. The youth sprangto his feet, and darted a look of defiance at him. "Oh! wretched manthat I am! the murderous savages have converted the gentle lamb into awolf!" Roughgrove then repeated his words to the youth in the Osagelanguage. The youth replied in the same language, his eyes flashingindignantly. He said it was not true; that the red man was great andnoble, and the pale face was a beast--and added that he had anothertomahawk and bows and arrows in his own country, and might see the daywhen this insult would be terribly resented. The old man sank down onhis rude seat, and gave way to excruciating grief.

  "Brother William!" cried Mary, tapping the drum. The youth cast downhis eyes to where she sat, and their fierceness vanished in atwinkling. She placed the toy in his possession, and rose to bringsome other plaything she remembered.

  "Sister, don't go--I'll tell mother!" cried the youth, in infantileearnestness.

  "I'll come back presently, brother," said Mary, tripping across theroom and searching a trunk.

  "Make haste--but I'm not afraid--I'll frighten all the Indians away."Saying this, he rattled the drum as rapidly as possible.

  "See what I've got, brother," said Mary, returning with a juvenilebook, and sitting down close at his side. He thrust the drum away,and, laughing heartily, placed his arm round his sister and said:"Mother's got _my_ book; but you'll let me look at yours, won't you,sister?"

  "Yes that I will, brother--see, this is the little old woman, andthere's her dog--"

  "Yes, and there's the peddler," cried the youth, pointing at thepicture.

  "Now can't you read it, brother?"

  "To be sure I can--let me read:

  "'There was a little woman As I have heard tell, She went to market Her eggs for to sell.'

  "See! there she goes, with a basket on her arm and a cane in her hand."

  "Yes, and here she is again on this side, fast asleep, and her basketof eggs sitting by her," said Mary; "now let me read the next:

  "'She went to market, All on a market day, And she fell asleep On the king's highway.'"

  Now do you read about the peddler, brother. Mother used to say therewas a naughty word in it."

  "I will," cried the youth, eagerly; but he paused and lookedsteadfastly at the picture before him.

  "Why don't you read?" asked Mary, endeavouring to confine his thoughtsto the childish employment.

  "That's a pretty _skin_, ain't it?" said he, pointing to the red shawlpainted on the picture.

  "_Skin_!" said Mary; "why, that's her shawl, brother."

  "I'll steal one for my squaw," said he.

  "_Steal_, br
other!" said the trembling girl.

  "No I won't, either, sister--don't you know mother says we must neversteal, nor tell stories, nor say bad words."

  "That's right, brother. But you haven't got an ugly _squaw_, haveyou?"

  "No indeed, sister, that I haven't!"

  "I thought you wouldn't have any thing to do with the ugly squaws."

  "That I wouldn't--mine's a pretty one."

  "Oh, heaven!" cried the weeping girl, throwing herself on herbrother's bosom. He kissed her, and strove to comfort her, and turnedto the book and continued to turn over the leaves, while Mary sat byin sadness, but ever and anon replying to his childish questions, andstill striving to keep him thus diverted.

  "Have you any of the clothes you wore when he was a child?" askedGlenn, addressing Roughgrove.

  "Yes," replied the old man; and seizing upon the thought, he unlockedthe trunk that contained them, and put them on.

  "Where's mother?" suddenly asked the young chief.

  "Oh, she's dead!" said Mary.

  "Dead? I know better!" said he, emphatically.

  "Indeed she is, brother," repeated Mary, in tears.

  "When did she die?" he continued, in a musing attitude.

  "A long time ago--when you were away," said she.

  "I wasn't gone away long, was I?" he asked, with much simplicity.

  "Oh, very long--we thought you were dead."

  "He was a very bad Indian to steal me away without asking mother. Butwhere's father? Is he dead, too?" he continued, lifting his eyes andbeholding Roughgrove attired in a suit of velvet, and wearing broadsilver knee buckles. "Father! father!" he cried, eagerly clasping theold man in his arms.

  "My poor boy, I will be your father still!" said Roughgrove.

  "I know you will," said the youth, "for you always loved me a greatdeal, and now that my poor mother's dead, I'm sure you will lovesister and me more than ever."

  "Indeed I will, poor child! But you must not go back to the naughtysavages any more."

  The youth gazed round in silence, and made no reply. He was evidentlyawakening to a consciousness of his condition. A frown of horrordarkened his brow as he contemplated the scenes of his wild abodeamong the Indians; and, when he contrasted his recent mode of lifewith the Elysian days of his childhood, now fresh in his memory,mingled emotions of regret, fear, and bliss seemed to be contending inhis bosom. A cold dampness settled upon his forehead, his limbstrembled violently, and distressful sighs issued from his heavingbreast. Gradually he sank down on a couch at his side, and closed hiseyes.

  When some minutes had elapsed, during which a death-like silence wasmaintained, Mary approached lightly to where her father stood, andinquired if her brother was ill.

  "No," said Roughgrove, in a whisper; "he only sleeps; but it is a verysound slumber."

  "Now let us take off his Indian dress," said Glenn, "and put on himsome of my clothes." This was speedily effected, and without awakingthe youth, whose senses were benumbed, as if by some powerful opiate.

  "Now, Mary," said Roughgrove, "you must likewise have repose. You arealmost exhausted in body and mind. Sleep at your brother's side, ifyou will, poor girl." Mary laid her head on William's pillow, and wassoon in a deep slumber.

  For several moments Roughgrove stood lost in thought, gazingalternately at the reposing brother and sister, and Glenn. He lookedalso at Sneak and Joe reclining by the fire; both were fast asleep. Hethen resumed his seat, and motioned Glenn to do likewise. He bowed hishead a brief length of time in silence, apparently recalling to mindsome occurrence of more than ordinary import.

  "My young friend," said he, at length, while he placed his witheredhand upon Glenn's knee, "do you remember that I said there was_another_ secret connected with my family?"

  "Distinctly," replied Glenn; "and I have since felt so much anxiety tobe acquainted with it that I have several times been on the eve ofasking you to gratify my curiosity; but thinking it might beimpertinent, I have forborne. It has more than once occurred to methat your condition in life must have been different from what it nowis."

  "It has been different--far different. I will tell you all. I am anative of England--a younger brother, of an ancient and honourablefamily, but much decayed in fortune. I was educated for the ministry.Our residence was on the Thames, a few miles distant from London, andI was early entered in one of the institutions of the great city.While attending college, it was my practice twice a month to visit myfather's mansion on foot. I was fond of solitary musings, and theexercise was beneficial to my weak frame. It was during one of thoseexcursions that I rescued a young lady from the rude assaults of tworuffians. After a brief struggle, they fled. I turned to the one I hadso opportunely served, and was struck with her unparalleled beauty.Young; a form of symmetrical loveliness; dark, languishing eyes, asmooth forehead of lily purity, and auburn hair flowing in glossyringlets--it was not strange that an impression should be made on theheart of a young student. She thanked me for my generous interpositionin such sweet and musical tones, that every word thrilled pleasantlythrough my breast. She prevailed upon me to accompany her to hermother's cottage, but a few hundred paces distant; and during our walkthither, she hung confidingly on my arm. Her aged mother overwhelmedme with expressions of gratitude. She mildly chid her daughter forwandering so far away in quest of flowers, and then withdrawing, leftus alone. Again my eyes met those of the blushing maiden--but it isuseless to dwell upon the particulars of our mutual passion. Sufficeit to say that she was the only child of her widowed mother, inmoderate but independent circumstances, and being hitherto secludedfrom the society of the other sex, soon conceived (for my visits werefrequent) an affection as ardent as my own. At length I apprized myfather of the attachment, and asked his consent to our union. Herefused to sanction the alliance in the most positive terms, andcommanded me never to mention the subject again. He said that I waspoor, and that he would not consent to my marriage with any other thanan heiress. I returned to London, resolved to disobey his injunction,for I felt that my happiness entirely depended upon my union with thelovely Juliet. But I had never yet definitely expressed my desire toher. Yet there could be no doubt from her smiles that my wishes wouldwillingly be acceded to. I determined to arrange every thing at ournext interview, and a few weeks afterwards I repaired to the cottagefor that purpose. Instead of meeting me with her ever blissful face, Ifound my Juliet in tears! She was alone; but in the adjoining chamberI heard a man's voice, and feared that it was my father. I wasmistaken. Juliet soon brushed away her tears, and informed me that shehad been _again_ assailed by the same ruffians, and on the lawn withinsight of the cottage. She said that the gentleman in the next room washer deliverer. I seized her hand, and when about to propose a plan tosecure her against such annoyances for ever, her mother entered andintroduced the stranger to me. His name was Nicholson, and he statedthat he was a partner in a large banking establishment in LombardStreet. He was past the bloom of youth, but still his fine clothes andhis reputed wealth were displeasing to me. I was especially chagrinedat the marked attention shown him by Juliet's mother. And my annoyancewas increased by the frequent lascivious glances he cast at themaiden. The more I marked him, the more was my uneasiness. It soonoccurred to me that I had seen him before! He resembled a person I hadseen driving rapidly along the highway in a chariot, on the morningthat I first beheld my Juliet. But my recollection of his features wasindistinct. There was a condescending suavity in his manners, andsometimes a positive and commanding tone in his conversation, thatalmost roused my enmity in spite of my peaceful calling and friendlydisposition. It was my intention to remain at the cottage, and proposeto Juliet after he had departed. But my purpose was defeated, for hedeclared his intention to enjoy the country air till evening, and Ireturned, disappointed and dispirited, to the city.

  "A few days afterwards I visited the cottage again. What was mysurprise and vexation to behold Mr. Nicholson there! He was seated,with his patronizing smile, between Juliet and her mother, andpresenti
ng them various richly bound books, jewels, &c., which seemedto me to be received with much gratification. I was welcomed with theusual frankness and pleasure by Juliet, but I thought her mother'sreception was less cordial, and Mr. Nicholson regarded me withmanifest indifference. I made an ineffectual effort at vivacity, andafter an hour's stay, during which my remarks gradually narrowed downto monosyllables, (while Mr. Nicholson became excessively loquacious,)I rose to depart. Juliet made an endeavour to accompany me to thedoor, where I hoped to be assured of her true affection for me by herown lips, but some pointed inquiry (I do not now recollect what) fromNicholson, which was seconded in a positive manner by her mother,arrested her steps, and while she hesitated, I bad her adieu, anddeparted for the city, resolved never to see her again.

  "It was about a month after the above occurrence that my resolutiongave way, and I was again on the road to the cottage, with my mindmade up to forgive and forget every thing that had offended me, and tooffer my hand where my heart seemed to be already irrevocably fixed.When I entered who should I see but the eternal thwarter of myhappiness, the ever-present Nicholson! But horror! he was now thewedded lord of Juliet! The ceremony was just over. There were but twoor three strangers present besides the clergyman. Bride, groom,guests, and all were hateful to my sight. The minister, particularly,I thought had a demoniac face, similar to that of one of the ruffianswho had tested the quality of my cane. Juliet cast a look at me withmore of sadness than joy in it. She offered me her hand in silentsalutation, and it trembled in my grasp. The deed was done. Pity forthe maiden who had been thus sacrificed to secure a superabundance ofwealth which could never be enjoyed, and sorrow at my own forlorncondition, weighed heavily, oh, how heavily! on my heart. I returnedto my lonely and desolate lodgings without a malicious feeling for theone who had robbed me of every hope of earthly enjoyment. I prayedthat he might make Juliet happy.

  "But, alas! her happiness was of short duration. Scarce six months hadpassed before Mr. Nicholson began to neglect his youthful andconfiding bride. She had still remained at her mother's cottage,while, as she stated, his establishment was being fitted up in townfor their reception. He at first drove out to the cottage everyevening; but soon afterwards fell into the habit of visiting his brideonly two or three times a week. He neither carried her into societynor brought home any visitors. Yet he seemed to possess immensewealth, and bestowed it upon Juliet with a liberal, nay, profuse hand.My young friend, what kind of a character do you suppose this Mr.Nicholson to have been?" said the old man, pausing, and turning toGlenn, who had been listening to the narrative with marked attention.

  "He was an impostor--a gambler," replied Glenn, promptly.

  "He _was_ an impostor! but no adventurous gambler, as you suppose. Iwill proceed. About seven months after his marriage, he abandonedJuliet altogether! Yet he did not forget her entirely. He may havefelt remorse for the ruin he had wrought--or perhaps a slight degreeof affection for his unborn--; and costly presents, and manyconsiderable sums of money, were sent by him to the cottage. Butneither the aged mother nor the deserted wife found the consolationthey desired in his prodigal gifts. They sent me a note, informing meof their distressful condition, and requesting me to ascertain thelocality of Mr. Nicholson's establishment, and, if possible, to findout the cause of his unnatural conduct. I did all in my power toaccomplish what they desired. I repaired to the cottage, unable togive the least intelligence of Mr. Nicholson. I had not been able tofind any one who had ever heard of him. Juliet became almost frantic.She determined to seek him herself. At her urgent solicitation, Iaccompanied her to the city in an open curricle. A pitying Providencesoon terminated her insupportable suspense. While we were drivingthrough Hyde Park, we were forcibly stopped to permit, among thethrong, the passage of a splendid equipage. The approaching carriagewas likewise an open one. Juliet glanced at the inmates, and utteringa wild piercing shriek, fainted in my arms. I looked, and saw herquondam husband! He was decked in the magnificent insignia of ROYALTY.Nobles were bowing, high-born ladies smiling, and the multitudeshouted, 'There comes his royal highness, the Prince of--'

  "Man cannot punish him," continued Roughgrove, "but God can. HE willdeal justly, both with the proud and the oppressed. But to return. Hesaw Juliet. A few minutes after the gorgeous retinue swept past, oneof the prince's attendants came with a note. Juliet was insensible. Itook it from the messenger's hand, and started when I looked thevillain in the face. He had been the parson! He smiled at therecognition! I hurled my cane at his head, and hastened back to thecottage with a physician in attendance. Juliet soon recovered from herswoon. But a frenzied desperation was manifest in her pale features. Ileft her in her mother's charge, and returned in agony to my lodgings.That night a raging fever seized upon my brain, and for months I wasthe victim of excruciating disease. When convalescent, but stillconfined to my room, I chanced to run my eye over one of the dailypapers, and was petrified to see the name of Mrs. Nicholson, in thefirst article that attracted my attention, in connection with anattempt upon the life of the king! She had been seized with a fit oftemporary insanity, and driving to town, sought her betrayer with theintention of shedding his blood. She waited at the gate of St. James'spalace until a carriage drove up in which she expected to find theprince. It was the king--yet she did not discover her error until theblow was made. The steel did not perform its office, as you are awarefrom the history of England, in which this event is recorded. The kinghumanely pardoned her on the spot. A single word she utteredacquainted him with her history, and her piteous looks made anextraordinary impression on his mind. He too, had, perhaps, sportedwith innocent beauty. And now the spectre of the weeping maniachaunted his visions. Soon he became one himself. The name of Julietfortunately was not published in the journals. It was by some meansincorrectly stated that the woman who attacked the king was named_Margaret_ Nicholson, and so it remains on the page of history.

  "As soon as I was able to leave my chamber, I repaired to the cottage.Juliet was a _mother_. Reason had returned, and she strove to submitwith Christian humility to her pitiable lot. She received me with thesame sweet smile that had formerly beamed on her guileless face. Hermother, the promoter of the fancied advantageous alliance, now seemedto suffer most. They both clung to me as their only remaining friend,and in truth I learned that all other friends had forsaken them. Ilooked upon the deceived, outraged, but still innocent Juliet, withpity. Her little cherub twins--"

  "Twins!" echoed Glenn.

  "Ay, twins," replied Roughgrove, "and they lie behind you now, side byside, on yonder bed."

  Glenn turned and gazed a moment in silence on the sleeping forms ofWilliam, and Mary.

  "Her poor little ones excited my compassion. They were not blamablefor their father's crime, nor could they enjoy the advantages of hisexalted station. They were without a protector in the world. Juliet'smother was fast sinking under the calamity she had herself in a greatmeasure wrought. My heart melted when I contemplated the sad conditionof the only female I had ever loved. It was not long before the firesof affection again gleamed brightly in my breast. Juliet had committedno crime, either in the eyes of man or God. She did not intend to err.She had acted in good faith. She had never designed to transgresseither the laws of earth or heaven, and although the disguised princedid not wholly possess her heart, yet she deemed it a duty to begoverned by the advice of her parent. These things I explained to her,and when her conscience was appeased by the facts which Idemonstrated, her peace in some measure returned, but she was stillsubject to occasional melancholy reflections. Perhaps she thought ofme--how my heart had suffered (for, young as I was, the occurrencebrought premature gray hairs; and even now, although my head is white,I have seen but little more than forty years)--and how happy we mighthave travelled life's journey together. I seized such a moment torenew my proposals. She declined, but declined in tears. I returned tothe city with the intention to repeat the offer the next time we met.Not many weeks elapsed before her aged mother was consigned to thetomb. Poo
r Juliet's condition was now immeasurably lamentable. She hadneither friend nor protector. I again urged my suit, and wassuccessful. But she required of me a promise to retire from the worldfor ever. I cheerfully agreed, for I was disgusted with the vanity andwickedness of my species. We came hither. You know the rest."

  When Roughgrove ceased speaking, the night was far advanced, and aperfect silence reigned. Without uttering another word, he and Glennrose from their seats, and repairing to the remaining unoccupiedcouch, ere long yielded to the influence of tranquil slumber.