City Crimes; Or, Life in New York and Boston

by George Thompson

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  _The Disguised Husband--the False Wife--the Murder--the Disclosure, andSuicide._

  Reader, let thy fancy again wing its flight from New York to our owncity of Boston.

  It was a strange coincidence that Frank Sydney and his wife Julia shouldtarry again beneath the same roof; yet they were not destined to meetunder that roof--for the next day after Frank made the discovery, Mr.Hedge and the young lady removed from the Hotel to a splendid housewhich had been fitted up for them in the most aristocratic quarter ofthe city.

  'I must see Julia once again,' said Frank to himself, when informed ofher departure;--'I must see and converse with her again, for I amanxious to see if she has really reformed, since her marriage with thisMr. Hedge, whom I have heard spoken of as a very respectable old man. Ofcourse, he can know nothing of her former character; and if I find herdisposed to be faithful to her present husband, Heaven forbid that Ishould ruin her by exposure! But I must so disguise myself that sheshall not recognise me; this I can easily do, for I am well acquaintedwith the art of disguise. I shall have no difficulty in meeting her onsome of the fashionable promenades of the city, then my ingenuity willaid me in forming her acquaintance. My plan shall be put into immediateexecution.'

  Our hero felt considerable uneasiness in the knowledge that the Dead Manwas then in the city; and when he reflected that the Doctor had joinedthat arch miscreant, he knew not what infernal plot might be concoctedagainst his liberty or life. He puzzled his brain in vain to account forthe Doctor's singular conduct in deserting him for the friendship of avillain; and he was forced to arrive at the unwelcome conclusion, thatthe Doctor was a man whose natural depravity led him to prefer thecompanionship of crime to the society of honesty and honor.

  Sydney never ventured abroad without being thoroughly armed; and he wasdetermined, if attacked by his enemies, to sell his life as dearly aspossible.

  He had called once upon Miss Sophia Franklin, since the night he hadrescued her from the designs of the libertine Radcliff; Josephine andher mother plainly evinced by their looks that they did not relish hisvisit; but the fair Sophia received him with every demonstration ofgratitude and pleasure. She could not deny to herself that she felt adeep and growing interest in the handsome young stranger, who had sogallantly defended her honor: while on his part, he sympathized with herunfortunate situation, on account of her unprincipled relatives, andadmired her for her beauty and goodness. He sighed as he thought thathis abandoned wife was a barrier to any hopes which he might entertainin reference to Sophia; for he felt that he could joyfully make theyoung lady his bride, and thus preserve her from her mother and sister,were there no obstacle in the way. When he contrasted her purity andvirtue with the vices of Julia, he cursed his destiny that had placed sogreat a prize beyond his grasp.

  Sophia, as yet, knew nothing of Frank's history, and was of courseignorant that he had a wife. Sweet hopes swelled the maiden's bosom,when the thought arose in her pure heart that she might be beloved byone whom she knew was worthy of her tenderest regard.

  It was with a high degree of satisfaction that Julia now foundherself, by the liberality of Mr. Hedge, mistress of a splendidestablishment.--Her dresses, her jewelry, her furniture were ofthe most magnificent kind; her husband placed no restraint uponher whatever, he slept in a separate chamber, and never annoyedher with his impotent embraces; each morning he was accustomedto meet her in the breakfast parlor, and partake with her theonly meal they took together during the day; after the repast,he would usually present her with money sufficient to do herfashionable 'shopping;' then he would kiss her rosy cheek, bidher adieu, and leave her to pass the day as her fancy or capricemight dictate.

  Enjoying such a life of luxurious ease, Julia was almost perfectlyhappy. Yet her cup was not quite full; there was one thing wanting tocomplete the list of her pleasures--and this deficiency occupied herthoughts by day, and her dreams by night. Not to keep the reader insuspense, she longed for a handsome and agreeable lover--yet none couldshe find suited to her taste or wishes. True, she might have selectedone from among the many gentlemen of leisure 'about town,' who arealways ready to dangle at the heels of any woman who will clothe andfeed them for their 'services.'--But she preferred a lover of a moreexalted grade; one whose personal beauty was set off by mental graces,and superior manners. And he must be poor; for then he would be moredependent upon her, and consequently, more devoted and more constant.

  Time passed, and still Julia had no lover.--Mr. Hedge mentally gave hercredit for the most virtuous fidelity; yet the amorous fair one wasconstantly on the _qui vive_ to catch in her silken meshes somedesirable man with whom she might in secret pass the hours of hervoluptuous leisure.

  One day, while promenading Tremont street, her eyes rested upon agentleman whose appearance sent a thrill of admiration and desirethrough every fibre of her frame. His figure, of medium height, waserect and well-built; his gait was dignified and graceful; his dress, inexact accordance with the _mode_, was singularly elegant and rich--but asuperb waistcoat, a gorgeous cravat in which glittered a diamond pin,and salmon-colored gloves, were the least attractive points in hisappearance; for his countenance was eminently handsome and striking. Hishair fell in rich masses over a fine, thoughtful brow; his eyes weredark, piercing, and full of expression and fire; and the lower part ofhis face was almost completely hidden by a luxuriant growth of whiskers,imperial and moustache. Whatever of foppishness there might be in hisdress, was qualified by the dignified grace of his manner.

  'He is a charming creature, and I must catch him,' thought Julia. So, onthe next day when she met him again, and at the moment when his eyeswere fixed admiringly upon her countenance, she smiled, then blushed inthe most engaging manner, and passed on in sweet confusion. The gallantgentleman, encouraged by the smile and blush, turned and followed her.She walked on as far as the Common, entered, and regardless of her satindress, seated herself upon one of the sheet-iron covered benches. Thegentleman (bold fellow!) seated himself upon the same bench, though at arespectful distance. Julia blushed again, and cast down her beautifuleyes.

  You know very well, reader, how two persons, who are not acquainted,always begin a conversation. The weather is the topic first touchedupon;--and that hackneyed subject merges easily and naturally into moreagreeable discourse. So it was with Julia and her gallant; in less thanhalf an hour after seating themselves on that bench, they were sociablyand unrestrainedly conversing on the theatres, the opera, the lastnovel, and other matters and things pertaining to the world of fashionand amusement. The lady judged her companion, by a slight peculiarity inhis accent, to be a foreigner--a circumstance that raised him still morein her estimation, for our amorous American ladies adore foreigners. Hewas also a man of wit, education and talent; and Julia became completelyfascinated with him. He proposed an exchange of cards; she assented, andfound her new friend to be the 'Signor Montoni'; and he subsequentlyinformed her that he was an Italian teacher of languages--a piece ofinformation that gave her pleasure, as his following a profession was apretty certain indication that he was poor.

  When Julia returned home, the Italian accompanied her to the door. Thenext day they met again, and the next; and the intimacy between themincreased so rapidly, that within a week after their confidential chaton the Common, Montoni called on Julia at her residence. But the ladynoticed that he had suddenly grown reserved and bashful; and he madethis and their other interviews provokingly short. She had hoped to havefound in him an impetuous and impassioned lover--one who needed but theopportunity to pluck the ripe fruit so temptingly held out to him; butshe found him, instead, an apparently cold and passionless man, takingno advantage of his intimacy with her, and treating her with a distantrespect that precluded all hope in her bosom of a successful amour.

  In vain did the beautiful wanton assail him with inviting glances andseductive smiles; in vain did she, while in his presence, recline uponthe sofa in attitudes of the most voluptuous abandonment; in vain didshe, as
if unconsciously, display to his gaze charms which might havemoved an anchorite--a neck and shoulders of exquisite proportions, and abosom glowing and swelling with a thousand suppressed fires. Hewithstood all these attacks, and remained calm and unmoved. When shegave him her hand to kiss at parting, he would merely raise it to hislips, and leave her with a cold 'adieu.'

  'He is cold--senseless--unworthy of my regard; I will see him no more,'said Julia to herself. Yet when the image of the handsome Italian arosebefore her, so calmly noble, so proudly composed, her resolution forsookher, and she felt that he held her, heart and soul, under some strangeand magical fascination.

  'Yes, I love him,' she cried, bursting into a passionate flood oftears--'devotedly, madly love him. Oh, why am I the suppliant slave ofthis cold stranger? why cannot I entice him to my arms? Distraction: mymost consummate art fails to kindle in his icy breast a single spark ofthe raging fire that is consuming me!'

  It may be proper to mention that Mr. Hedge knew nothing of the Italian'svisits to his wife; for Julia received him in a private parlor of herown, and there was no danger of interruption. The old gentleman passedmost of his evenings in his library; and having implicit faith in theintegrity of his wife, he allowed her to spend her evenings as shechose.

  One evening Signor Montoni visited Julia rather earlier than usual; andshe resolved that evening to make a desperate effort to conquer him,even if obliged to make known her wishes in words.

  During the evening she exerted herself, as usual, to captivate him, andbring him to her feet. She sang--she played--she liberally displayed thegraces of her person, and the charms of her accomplished mind, but stillin vain.--There he sat, with folded arms, in deep abstraction, gazing atthe elaborate figures on the gorgeous carpet.

  At nine o'clock, Montoni arose, and took the lady's hand to bid heradieu. She gently detained him, and drew him towards her upon the sofa.

  'Listen to me, Montoni;' said she, gazing into his eyes with anexpression of deep fondness--'listen to me, and I will speak calmly if Ican, though my heart is beating in wild tumult. Call me unwomanly, bold,wanton if you will, for making this declaration--_but I love you!_--Godonly knows how ardently, how passionately. The first moment I saw you,your image impressed itself indelibly upon my heart; in person, you weremy _beau ideal_ of manhood--and in mind I found you all that I couldwish. I have sought to make you my lover--for my husband is old andimpotent, and my passions are strong. Look at me, Montoni; am I ugly orrepulsive? Nay, the world calls me beautiful, yet I seek to be beautifulonly in your eyes, my beloved. Why, then, have you despised my advances,disregarded my mute invitations, and left me to pine with disappointmentand with hope deferred? Why will you not take me in your arms, cover mewith kisses, and breathe into my ear the melody of your whispered love?'

  The lady paused, and the Italian gazed at her with admiration. Ah, howbeautiful she looked! and yet how like a fiend in the shape of a lovelywoman, tempting a man to ruin!

  'Lady,' said Montoni, as a shade of sadness passed over his finefeatures--'you have mentioned your husband, and the recollection thatyou _have_ a husband forbids that I should take advantage of yourpreference for me. God forbid that I should be the cause of a wife'sinfidelity! Pardon me, lady--you are very beautiful; the Almighty nevercreated so fair a sanctuary to become the dwelling place of sin; beadvised, therefore, to suppress this guilty passion, and remain faithfulto your husband, who, old though he be, has claims upon your constancy.'

  'I long for the declarations of a lover, not the reasonings of aphilosopher,' cried Julia passionately.--'Thou man of ice, nothing canmelt you?'

  'Remember your duty to your husband,' said Montoni, gravely, as he aroseto depart. 'I will see you to-morrow evening--adieu.'

  He left her to her reflections.--Wild, tumultuous thoughts arose in hermind; and from the chaos of her bewildered brain, came a HideousWhisper, prompting her to a bloody crime.

  She thought of her husband as an obstacle to her happiness with Montoni;and she began to hate the old man with the malignity of a fiend.

  'Curses on the old dotard!' she cried, in a paroxysm of rage--'were itnot for _him_, I might revel in the arms of my handsome Italian, whoseunaccountable scruples will not permit him to enjoy the bliss of lovewith me, while I have a husband.--Were that husband DEAD--'

  Then, like a Mighty Shadow, came that dark thought over her soul.Myriads of beautiful demons, all bearing the semblance of Montoni,seemed to gather around her, and urge her to perpetrate a deedof--_murder_!

  But then a fair vision spread itself before her wandering fancy. Therewas her girlhood's home--far, far away in a green, flowery spot, whereshe had dwelt ere her life had been cast amid the follies and vices ofcities. Then she thought of her mother--that gentle mother, whose heartshe had broken, and who was sleeping in the old church-yard of hernative village.--A tear dim'd her brilliant eye as these better feelingsof her nature gained a temporary ascendancy: but she dashed her tearaway, and suppressed the emotions of her heart, when the image of thefascinating Italian arose before her.

  'He must be mine! I swear it by everything in heaven, earth or hell--hemust be mine! Yes, though I stain my soul with the blackestcrime--though remorse and misery be my lot on earth--though eternaltorment be my portion in the world to come--he must and shall be mine!Aid me, ye powers of hell, in this my scheme--make my heart bold, myhand firm, my brain calm; for the deed is full of horror, and thethought of it chills my blood; I shudder and turn sick and dizzy--yet,for thy sake, Montoni, I WILL DO IT!'

  That night the wretched woman slept not; but in the solitude of herchamber employed her mind in endeavoring to form some plan by which toaccomplish her fell purpose with secrecy and safety. Ere morning dawned,she had arranged the _programme_ of the awful drama in which she was toplay the part of a murderess.

  When Mr. Hedge met her at breakfast, he noticed that she appearedfeverish and unwell; and with almost parental solicitude, he gentlychided her for neglecting to take proper care of her health.

  'My dear Julia,' said he--'you must not pour out the golden sands ofyouth too fast. If you will suffer me to offer you advice, you will goless abroad, and endeavor to seek recreation at home. You know my ardentaffection for you alone prompts me to make this suggestion.'

  Julia slightly curled her lip, but said nothing. The kindness of herhusband's manner did not in the least affect her, or alter theabominable purpose of her heart. Mr. Hedge did not notice hercontemptuous look; he gave her a sum of money, as usual, kissed her andbade her adieu.

  When he had gone, she dressed herself in her plainest attire, and goinginto an obscure part of the city, entered an apothecary's shop andpurchased some arsenic. She then retraced her steps to her residence,and found that Mr. Hedge, contrary to his usual custom, had returned,and would dine at home. This arrangement afforded her much satisfaction.

  'The fates are propitious,' said she--'to-night Montoni shall find mewithout a husband.'

  Mr. Hedge and Julia dined alone; dispensing with the attendance of aservant, they never were more sociable or more affectionate together.

  The old gentleman was in high spirits. 'My dear,' said he, 'yourpresence to-day inspires me with an unusual degree of happiness--andegad, I feel younger than ever. Pledge me in a bumper of good old port.'

  'I cannot endure port,' said Julia--'sparkling champagne for me. I willring for some.'

  'By your leave, madam,' said her husband, with an air of gallantry; andrising, he walked across the room, and rang the bell.

  Quick as lightning, Julia took a small paper parcel from her bosom, andbreaking it open, poured a white powder into her husband's glass, whichwas nearly full of port wine.

  Mr. Hedge resumed his seat, and raising the fatal glass to his lips,slowly drained it to the dregs. Just then the butler entered, in answerto the summons; and in obedience to Julia's order, he brought in abottle of champagne, and withdrew.

  'I am very unwell,' said the old gentleman--'my love, will you assist meto my chamber?' H
e arose with difficulty, and with her aid reached hischamber, and lay down upon the bed. Instantly he closed his eyes, andseemed to fall into a deep slumber.

  'He will wake in another world,' murmured the guilty woman, as she sawthe hue of death beginning to overspread his features. No repentance, noremorse, touched her vile heart; calmly she surveyed her victim for afew moments--then, not wishing to witness his dying agonies, she leftthe chamber, having carefully locked the door.

  That afternoon she went out and purchased a new and magnificent set ofjewels. If for a moment the recollection of her horrible crime obtrudeditself upon her mind, she banished it by thinking of her adored Montoni.Hers was a kind of mental intoxication, under the influence of which shecould have perpetrated the most enormous crimes, blindly and almostunconsciously.

  Returning home she prepared her toilet with the most elaborate care. AFrench 'artist,' (all barbers are _artists_, by the way,) was sent for,who arranged her beautiful hair in the latest _mode_; and when arrayedin her superb evening dress of white satin with her fair neck, her wristand her lovely brow blazing with jewels, she looked like some queen ofOriental romance, waiting to receive the homage of her vassals.

  And when, as the clock struck eight, the Signor Montoni entered, who canwonder that he thought her divinely lovely, as he glanced at her faceradiant with smiles, her cheek suffused with the rich hues of health andhappiness, and her eyes sparking with delight at seeing him?

  We said _happiness_--'twas not the deep, quiet happiness of the heart,but the wild, delirious joy of the intoxicated brain.

  'Dear Montoni,' she cried, embracing and kissing him--'your presencenever gave more pleasure. I have waited for your coming with impatience.You are mine now, you cannot deny me--the obstacle is removed.--Oh, myGod, what happiness!'

  'Lady,' replied the Italian, in his usual cold and respectful tone, ashe disengaged himself from her embrace, 'what means this agitation? Youspeak of an _obstacle_ as being removed; pray explain the enigma.'

  'Signor Montoni,' cried Julia, her eyes flashing almost fearfully--'whenI spoke to you of love last night, you preached to me of my husband, andmy duty to him. The recollection that I _had_ a husband, you said,forbade that you should take advantage of my preference for you. Rejoicewith me, Montoni--come to my arms--my husband is no more!'

  'How--what mean you?' demanded the Italian, in breathless astonishment.

  'Follow me,' she said; and taking a lamp, she led the way to the chamberof Mr. Hedge. She unlocked the door, they entered, and she beckoned hercompanion to approach the bed.

  Montoni advanced, and gazed upon the swollen, disfigured face of acorpse!

  'Your husband--dead!' cried the Italian. 'By heaven there has been foulplay here. Woman, can it be possible--'

  'Yes, all things are possible to Love!' exclaimed Julia, laughinghysterically;--''twas I did the deed, Montoni; for _your_ dear sake Ikilled him!'

  'Murderess!' cried Montoni, recoiling from her with horror, 'has it cometo this?--Then indeed it is time that this wretched farce should end!'

  He tore off the wig, the false whiskers, imperial and moustache--andFrank Sydney stood before her! With a wild shriek she fell senselessupon the carpet.

  'God of heaven!' exclaimed Frank--'what infernal crimes blot thy faircreation! Let me escape from this house, for the atmosphere is thickwith guilt, and will suffocate me if I remain longer!'

  And without casting one look at the ghastly corpse, or the swooningmurderess upon the floor, he rushed from the house, and fled rapidlyfrom it, as though it were the abode of the pestilence.

  Miserable Julia! She awoke to a full consciousness of her guilt andwretchedness. The intoxication of her senses was over; her delirium waspast, and horrible remorse usurped the place of passion in herbreast.--She arose, and gazed fearfully around her; there lay the bodyof her murdered victim, its stony eyes turned towards her, and seemingto reproach her for the deed. She could not remain in that awfulchamber, in the presence of that accusing corpse, whose blood seemed tocry out for vengeance; she ran from it, and at every step imagined thather dead husband was pursuing her, to bring her back.

  Not for worlds would she have remained that night in the house; hastilythrowing on a bonnet and shawl, she issued forth into the street. Shecared not where she went, so long as she escaped from the vicinity ofthat scene of murder. In a state of mind bordering on distraction, thewretched woman wandered about the streets until a late hour; thedisorder of her dress, the wildness of her appearance, induced many whomshe met to suppose her to be intoxicated; and several riotous young men,returning from a theatre, believing her to be a courtezan, treated herwith the utmost rudeness, at the same time calling her by the mostopprobrious names, until a gentleman who was passing rescued her fromtheir brutality.

  Midnight came, and still was the unhappy Julia a wanderer through thestreets. At length she found herself upon Charlestown bridge; and beingmuch fatigued, she paused and leaned against the railing, uncertain whatto do or where to go. That hour was the most wretched of her life; herbrain was dizzy with excitement--her heart racked with remorse--herlimbs weak with fatigue, and numbed with cold. The spirit of Mr. Hedgeseemed to emerge from the water, and invite her with outstretched armsto make the fatal plunge; and when she thought of his unvaried kindnessto her, his unbounded generosity, and implicit faith in her honor, howbitterly she reproached herself for her base ingratitude and abominablecrime! Oh, how gladly would she have given up her miserable life, couldshe but have undone that fearful deed! And even in that wretched hourshe cursed Frank Sydney, as being the cause of her crime and itsattendant misery.

  'May the lightning of heaven's wrath sere his brain and scorch hisheart!' she said--'had he not, disguised as the Italian, won my loveand driven me to desperation, I now should be happy and comparativelyguiltless. But, by his infernal means, I have become a murderess and anoutcast--perhaps doomed to swing upon the scaffold! But no, no;--soonerthan die _that_ death, I would end my misery in the dark waters of thisriver, which flows so calmly beneath my feet!'

  She heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and saw two men advancingon the opposite foot-path of the bridge. She crouched down to avoidobservation; and as they passed, she distinctly heard theirconversation.

  'Have you heard,' said one, 'of the case of murder in ---- street?'

  'No; how was it?' demanded the other.

  'Why, a rich old fellow named Hedge was found this evening in hischamber, stone dead, having been poisoned by his wife, who they say is ayoung and handsome woman. It is supposed she did it on account of alover, or some such thing; and since the murder, she hasdisappeared--but the police are on her track, and they won't be long infinding her. 'Twill be a bad job for her.'

  The men passed on out of sight and hearing; but the words struck terrorto the heart of Julia. She started up and gazed wildly around her,expecting every moment to see the myrmidons of the law approaching, todrag her away to prison. Then she looked down upon the calm river, onwhose placid breast reposed the soft moonlight.

  'Why should I live?' she murmured, sadly--'earth has no longer anycharms for me; the past brings remorse, the present is most wretched,the future full of impending horror! Death is my only refuge; the onlycure for all my sorrows. Take me to thy embrace, thou peaceful river;thou canst end my earthly woes, but thou canst not wash off the stainsof guilt from my soul! There may be a hell, but its torments cannotexceed those of this world--'

  She mounted upon the topmost rail of the bridge, clasped her hands,muttered a brief prayer, and leaped into the river. There was asplash--a gurgling sound--and then profound and solemn silence resumedits reign.

  * * * * *

  One more unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death!

  * * * * *

  The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch Of the black flowing river; Mad from life's history, Glad to death's m
ystery, Swift to be hurl'd-- Any where, any where Out of the world!

  In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly The rough river ran-- Over the brink of it, Picture it--think of it, Dissolute Man!

  * * * * *

  Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour! And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour!