“For a fortnight, I was assiduous in cultivating her good graces, until I flattered myself that I was looked on as by no means an ordinary acquaintance. About this time morning rides were all the rage. Among all the young ladies in the city, residents or visitors, Miss —— was the only one who could at all manage a steed—but what of that? Young men talked constantly of ——; how deucedly well she sat a horse; trotting, galloping, at full speed, ’twas all one to her; indeed in all, save perhaps one particular, she was a perfect Diana Vernon—and no wonder that fashion and the desire of notoriety should induce many young ladies, who knew as little about riding as they did about the Bible, to try to rival her. Miss —— was no exception. I was riding one morning with a party of ladies and gentlemen, when the horse of one of the gentlemen took fright at something, and off he started. We rode rapidly after him to see what would be the result. The horse was dashing down the road like the wind—suddenly he stopped short, and his unlucky rider darted from his saddle like a bull-frog in full leap, and plunged head foremost into a pile of brush wood, where his legs alone remained visible, gesticulating vigorously. Up we rode in great horror, thinking the poor fellow’s neck was broken to a certainty; but no such thing—his time was not yet come. We hauled him forth, and found, that with the exception of a few digs and scratches about his face, he was a whole, though a miserably crest-fallen man. That evening I related the adventure of our morning ride to Miss ——, and instead of operating as a damper to her desire of riding, she became more resolutely bent on it—nothing would do but I must ride with her next day. Accordingly, next morning we started; she riding a quiet looking pacing nag, and I on that large fiery grey horse that broke my barouche to pieces, the day you rode with me to Fairfield and nearly broke our necks into the bargain.
“I felt uncommonly dull and sleepy that morning, and was so absent that at length I fairly wore out my companion’s patience, which, by the way, was not equal to Grissel’s, and in order to rouse me from my dreaming fit, endeavored to give me a smart cut with her switch, which missed me—but took effect on my horse’s flank. He sprang forward, and kicking violently, pitched me from the saddle, and down I came luckily on a soft sandy place. I jumped up and saw Miss ——’s nag rearing and plunging furiously, and her rider clinging to the saddle with one hand and the mane with the other. In an instant I was at the animal’s head, and seizing her nose with a powerful grasp held her quiet, while I lifted Miss —— from her saddle. Her face was pale, her lip quivered with terror, and she trembled so violently that I was obliged to put my arm round her waist to support her. I congratulated her on her escape from the danger, and proposed that we should continue our ride, as my horse had stopped near us and was attentively looking on, promising her at the same time to be very attentive during the ride, and not compel her to lash my horse in order to draw my notice. “No,” she said, “she could not, she would never attempt to ride again.” I became uneasy and earnestly besought her to permit me to lift her to her saddle, adding, that should our mishap be known, we should be rallied to death about it. At length she consented to ride slowly home. Neither said any thing to any one about our ride—but I could not forget that my arm had encircled ——’s slender waist. I became absorbingly devoted to her; and one day when I found her alone, with her cheek resting pensively on her little hand, I was foolish enough to tell her that I believed I loved her, and said a deal of nonsense besides, to which she listened with quiet resignation, and when I had finished, she tendered her hand to kiss.
“About ten days after this event, my guardian came to town, bringing with him his daughter, a beautiful little creature, with whom I had been brought up as a brother. The day after their arrival, there was a party, to which I was to attend Miss ——. My guardian was an elderly, staid gentleman, fond of his ease, and made it a point of conscience to go to his rest at ten o’clock regularly, and I thought it was incumbent on me to go with his pretty daughter. I therefore wrote a short note to Miss ——, telling her how matters stood, and thought nothing more about it until we arrived at the party, where I looked in vain for her. “She will be here after a while,” thought I—and to pass off the time agreeably, I danced with my fair companion. The night wore away, and still the girl I wished most to see did not arrive, nor could I conjecture the cause of her absence. Next day I went with my guardian and my sweet cousin, as I called her, to see some paintings at the Museum, and other sights; and the day after, she insisted that I should accompany her in a shopping expedition. Now there is nothing in the shape of labor or suffering that I would not sooner undergo, than accompany a lady, and more especially a very fair young lady, shopping; they look at a thousand things, ask one’s opinion or advice about every thing, and as a matter of course, follow it in nothing—besides all that, I was very anxious to see Miss —— that morning; but was obliged to submit.
“Next morning I paid her an early visit—she was sitting at the table writing as I entered. As she looked up at me I thought I noticed somewhat of displeasure in her eyes, and it occurred to me at once that perhaps she was not pleased at my failure to attend her to the party. If so, her pettishness was obviously unreasonable in the extreme, and I forthwith determined to anger her a little, if I discovered my surmise to be well founded.
“I talked to her for some time very courteously. Her brow began to clear up, and I feared lest she should become entirely good humored and leave me no opportunity to vex her; so I spoke of the party, mentioned some who were there, and how delightful the whole affair was: eatables, drinkables, music, ladies and all, charming; and amongst other things I dilated with great emphasis on my cousin, praised her beauty, her gracefulness, her wit; spoke of the admiration she excited, and concluded by declaring that she was by far the most interesting girl I had seen there—and I ran my fingers through my curling hair, and thrusting my right leg out before me, gazed complacently at the toe of my pump.
“Miss —— looked at the fire and twisted the unfortunate pen she held in her hand, into many unnatural shapes—but said nothing.
“‘Well,’ resumed I, ‘I could not imagine why you were not there; I looked for you once or twice during the evening, and was astonished when I heard that you had not come.’
“‘Oh, I received your note telling me that you would accompany another lady, and not wishing to go abegging for an escort, resolved to stay at home.’
“‘What a pity!” said I, ‘if you had been there I should have had nothing to wish for; as it was, the evening passed delightfully—I scarce left my little cousin’s side. Yesterday she carried me shopping with her all the morning, and the day before I went with her to see the Ariadne. She is very much like the picture, and has the same beautiful fair complexion, the same blue eyes and yellow hair, which I admire so much, you know.’
“I looked up at Miss ——; she was gazing fixedly at me. I noticed a tear in her eye, as she turned away and rested her cheek on her dear little hand. I began to think matters were becoming too serious.
“‘Sweet ——,’ I began, in an altered and earnest tone—She raised her head suddenly and I trembled at her glance.
“‘Sweet ——,’ she repeated, with scornful emphasis—‘George, I owe you my life, and for that I shall always feel gratitude. I have loved you for yourself—for I thought you generous, sensible and sincere. Your present conduct shews how much I have been deceived in you, and the love I have been proud to feel is lost in contempt.’ She rose from her seat as she spoke. Heaven and Earth! The figure seen in my almost forgotten vision stood before me. I was motionless with horror—a dagger of ice seemed slowly to pierce my breast—I covered my eyes with my hand and groaned. Too fearfully were the words of doom fulfilled.
“I rose slowly from my chair, bowed low to —— and leaving the house, hurried to my room and threw myself on my bed. There I writhed in convulsive agony, and in the frenzy of unutterable despair cursed the hour in which I was born. The criminal who, in the confident hope of pardon, and indulging in d
reams of long life and happiness, is suddenly dragged forth to the gallows, feels not a tythe of the utter desolation I then felt. By degrees my frenzy subsided, and a dull stupor was coming over me—when the word ‘Revenge’ was muttered in my ear. I remembered the promise. Revenge is mine, and I will wreak it to the uttermost.’ I became perfectly calm—it was the calm of despair. I had nothing to hope for but revenge, and then, come what might, I would be ready to meet it! ‘Yes,’ said I aloud, ‘I will twine myself round her heartstrings—she shall love me devotedly, fatally, and I will requite her with a contempt colder than the snows on Cotapaxi, and a hate more intense than its fires.’
“In a few days my guardian left town with his daughter. I went about as usual and frequently met Miss —— to whom I always spoke with an air of grave politeness—but never alluded to her displeasure. I soon saw that her anger was passed like a summer cloud, and that she was not at all indisposed to a renewal of our former intimacy. One evening at a party somewhere, I was engaged in a lively conversation with her, and was quietly offering her many little polite attentions, from which a casual observer would have inferred that we were excellent friends—but there was nothing of confiding, affectionate interest in my tone or looks: all was the calm, cold, habitual politeness of a thorough bred man of the world. After a silence of some minute or two, she said kindly, ‘George, I am sorry for what I said in my hasty anger and would be delighted if you would forgive and forget it’—and she offered me her hand. I would have spurned it from me—but the time was not yet come. So I took her hand in mine, and with a grateful pressure, thanked her for her condescending goodness. ‘Now,’ said she, with one of her most endearing smiles, ‘we are good friends again.’
“For an instant my dire resolution seemed melting away—but I steeled myself relentlessly, and swore by my own head to pursue my revenge. From that day forth I was unremitting in my endeavor to gain her whole heart—every word and look was directed to that end. For hours have I sat with her, pouring out for her attentive ear whatever my more masculine studies had made me conversant with, but which to her had been as a sealed book.
“At length I saw that I had succeeded; her whole being seemed bound up in my love, and I felt that my victim was in my power. ‘Now for revenge,’ I muttered, as I walked slowly to the door and rang the bell. The room was empty as I entered; I sat down and pondered over the best and surest mode of attaining my wish. Presently I heard a light step hurrying down the staircase, and slackening in speed as it approached the door. I threw a slight expression of gloom over my features; the door opened, and Miss —— entered and greeted me with a mingling of cordiality and bashfulness which at one time would have brought me on my knees before her: now it was of no avail. She soon noticed the sadness of my looks, and inquired the cause. ‘I was thinking,’ I replied, ‘of a past and most painful event. It was here, in this room, that I heard, from lips that were dearest to me of all on earth, words which stunned me more than a thunderbolt would have done, and she who spoke them sate where you now sit.’
“‘Hush, sweet; hush,’ said she, playfully putting her hand on my mouth,’ and do not again allude to an occurrence which I regret so much. Indeed,’ she continued, while her eyes filled with tears,’ indeed, I would do any thing to convince you how much it has grieved me.’
“I smiled fondly, and rising from my chair, seated myself by her side, and took her little hand in mine.
“F——,’ said I, ‘you have told me that you loved me, and I believed you; I need not say how dearly I have loved you. Listen, dear girl, to what my love compels me to tell. Until this day I have been accustomed to think of myself as one beyond the reach of poverty, although not rich: this very day I have learned that I am well nigh pennyless. Our engagement is yet unknown to any save ourselves, and it remains with you to say whether it shall continue. I release you entirely from your promise, and never by word or deed will I reproach you, should you listen to the voice of prudence, and decline linking your fate to that of one who has nothing save the gushing tenderness and love of a passionate heart to offer you. If your generous mind reject the thought of discarding me for my poverty, think on all you will have to undergo; the loss of all that custom has rendered almost necessary; ‘the proud man’s contumely—the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;’ perchance the bitings of absolute penury;—and tell me, can you leave family and friends, and your childhood’s home, and endure all for the sake of my love?’
“My arm had encircled her waist, and I gazed steadfastly on her face. The proud blood rose in her pale cheek as she answered, ‘George, I do love you more than I know how to express, and ever for yourself alone. I can now show you how completely I am yours, for my love can end but with my life.’
“Wildly, fearfully, did the fiery blood bound through my tingling veins. I drew her to me; her head lay on my shoulder, and I covered with kisses her forehead, her eyes, her cheek, her lips. Tears of passionate love burst from my eyes, and I pressed her to my heart in an agony of uncontrollable delight. Slowly my calmness returned, and again ‘revenge! revenge!’ sounded in my ear.
I withdrew my arm from her, but still retained her hand, and said in a quiet tone, “Listen again, and swear by your hopes of heaven that you will divulge to no mortal ear what I shall say.” She did so, and I continued: “Two months ago you told me that you scorned and despised me: I swore to requite it—and now I tell you, and I swear by the crown of the eternal king I tell you truly, that I abhor you; I scorn and hate you more than I do the wretch who has murdered her infant child.” I flung from me as I spoke the hand I held, and rising from my seat, stood with my arms folded, looking her full in the face,
“For a moment she gazed wildly at me, as if she did not comprehend what I had said; but as the dreadful truth forced itself on her mind her face became white as chalk, her eyelids quivered convulsively, and with almost a scream she fell back in a swoon. I raised her, and getting some water from a flower jar, I sprinkled it over her face, and supported her in my arms. In a few minutes she opened her eyes, and fixed them on me with a gaze of imperfect consciousness; my arm still supported her. ‘Oh George, George,’ she murmured, clasping my neck with her arms, and sobbing bitterly, ‘how could you jest so cruelly with me? I know you were not in earnest; you could not speak so in earnest to your own F——; but your dreadful look frightened me almost to death;’ and she hid her face in my bosom, and sobbed as if her heart would break. For a few moments her sobs continued, and then she gradually recovered herself. I quietly unclasped her hands from my neck, and again rising from the sofa, said in a bitter tone, ‘compose yourself Miss ——, and be assured that I am in earnest. Look on my face, and see a man marked for the grave—and you are my destroyer. You have blighted all my happiness in this world; and before the leaves which are new budding shall fall, I will be sleeping in my cold grave. But now vengeance is mine, and I have repaid you; your death blow has been stricken, and soon, very soon, will you wither in your early tomb, where I shall speedily follow. Remember your dreadful oath.’
“She did not move nor weep, but her eyes were fixed on me with a fearful stare as the charmed bird regards the rattlesnake, and followed me as I moved from the room. Next day I heard that Miss —— had been discovered in the room where I left her in a state of insensibility, and had with difficulty been aroused from it, but was alarmingly ill. Conjecture was at fault as to the cause of her illness; among the thousand and one suppositions none came near the truth, and nothing could be learned from her. She was obstinately silent, as the attending physician, a pragmatical, dogmatical fellow, chose to report. A week passed and she was thought somewhat better; and her father, who had hurried to town on hearing of her illness, insisted on carrying her to the country with him. Another week passed and I heard nothing of her. I became anxious; I wished to see her again; to mark the progress of death, and exult in the completion of my revenge. I went down to my guardian’s house. They were all speaking of poor F—— when I arrived; s
he was not expected to live forty-eight hours.
“Next day my guardian, his daughter and myself rode over to Mr. ——’s to see F—— once more. Her mother was weeping and refusing to be comforted: she was her only child. I did not see her father; like Hagar, he had taken a last look at his child, and had gone into the woods to mourn unseen—he could not see his child die.
“My cousin and her father went into the dying girl’s room, while I remained conversing with some of the neighbors who were there. After some time had elapsed they came out; she came to me weeping bitterly, and said that Miss —— desired to see me alone. I almost trembled, but hastened to the room; no one was there save the dying girl. There she lay, her dark hair loose over her pillow, her fine face attenuated and white as alabaster; one hand was exposed to view—it was shrunk almost to nothing—but the lustre of her eyes was yet undiminished. I moved to the bedside and gazed in silence on the yet living remains of the most angelic spirit that I have met with in my intercourse with my fellow mortals. “George,” said she in a weak voice, “in a few minutes I shall breathe my last, yet I love you as fondly as ever, notwithstanding your cruel treatment of me. Oh speak to me, George! tell me that you love me, and I will forgive you and die contented.” My desire for revenge melted away; I felt almost choked with emotion, and throwing myself on my knees I kissed her emaciated hand and wept tears of bitter regret: inextinguishable love burned in my heart, and I moaned in her ear, “F——, my sweet, sweet F——, I do love you, and have ever loved you more than all the world holds beside, but it was fated that thus it should be!” A smile of delight spread over her face, her dying hand pressed mine—and in a whisper almost inaudible she said, “Farewell, we will meet hereafter.” Her breathing fluttered and ceased—she was dead. I imprinted a last kiss on her face, still lovely even in death, and left the room.
The Second Macabre Megapack Page 7