Bennett, Emerson - Ella Barnwell

by Ella Barnwell (lit)

  Such, reader, as our description has set forth, was the general appearance of Younker's dwelling, both without and within, in the year of our Lord 1781; and, moreover, a fair representative of an hundred others of the period in question--so arbitrary was necessity in making one imitate the other. But to resume our story.

  In the after part of a day as mild and beautiful as the one on which we opened our narrative, but some four weeks later, Ella Barnwell, needle-work in hand, was seated near the open door leading from the apartment first described to the reader. Her head was bent forward, and her eyes were apparently fixed upon her occupation with great intentness--though a close observer might have detected furtive glances occasionally thrown upon a young man, with a pale and somewhat agitated countenance, who was pacing to and fro on the ground without. With the exception of these two, no person was within sight--though the rattling of a loom in the other apartment or cabin, betokened the vicinity of the industrious hostess.

  For some moments the young man--a no less personage than our hero--paced back and forth like one whose mind is harrowed by some disagreeable thought: then suddenly halting in front of the doorway, and in a voice which, though not intended to be so, was slightly tremulous, he addressed himself to the young lady, in words denoting a previous conversation.

  "Then I must have said some strange things, Ella--I beg pardon--Miss Barnwell."

  "Have I not requested you, Mr. Reynolds, on more than one occasion, to call me Ella, instead of using the formality which rather belongs to strangers in fashionable society than to those dwelling beneath the same roof, in the wilds of Kentucky?" responded the person addressed, in a tone of pique, while she raised her head and let her soft, dark eyes rest reproachfully on the other.

  "Well, well, Ella," rejoined Reynolds, "I crave pardon for my heedlessness; and promise you, on that score at least, no more cause for offence in future."

  "Offence!" said Ella, quickly, catching at the word: "O, no--no--not offence, Mr. Reynolds! I should be sorry to take offence at what was meant in all kindness, and with true respect; but somehow I--that is--perhaps it may not appear so to others--but I--to me it appears studied--and--and--cold;" and as she concluded, in a hesitating manner, she quickly bent her head forward, while her cheek crimsoned at the thought, that she might perhaps have ventured too far, and laid herself liable to misconstruction.

  "And yet, Ella," returned Reynolds, somewhat playfully, "you resemble many others I have known, in preaching what you do not practice. You request me to lay aside all formality, and address you by your name only; while you, in that very request, apply to me the title you consider as studied, formal and cold."

  "You have reference to my saying _Mr._ Reynolds, I presume," answered Ella; "but I see no analogy between the two; as in addressing you thus, I do but what, under the circumstances, is proper; and what, doubtless, habit has rendered familiar to your ear; while, on the other hand, no one ever thinks of calling me any thing but Ella, or at the most, Ella Barnwell--and hence all superfluities grate harshly."

  "Even complimentary adjectives, eh?" asked Reynolds, with an arch look.

  "Even those, Mr. Reynolds; and those most of all are offensive, I assure you."

  "I thought all of your sex were fond of flattery."

  "Then have you greatly erred in thinking."

  "But thus says general report."

  "Then, sir, general report is a slanderer, and should not be credited. Those who court flattery, are weak-minded and vain; and I trust you do not so consider all our sex."

  "Heaven forbid," answered Reynolds, with energy, "that I should think thus of all, or judge any too harshly!--but there may be causes to force one into the conviction, that the exceptions are too few to spoil the rule."

  "I trust such is not your case," responded Ella, quickly, while her eyes rested on the other with a searching glance.

  "No one is required to criminate himself in law," replied Reynolds, evasively, with a sigh; and then immediately added, as if anxious to change the topic: "But I am eager for you to inform me what I said during my delirium."

  "O, many things," returned Ella, "the half of which I could not repeat; but more particularly you spoke of troubles at home, and often repeated the name of Elvira with great bitterness. Then you would run on incoherently, for some time, about pistols, and swords, and end by saying that the quarrel was just--that you were provoked to it, until it became almost self defence--and that if he died, his blood would be on his own head."

  "Good heavens, Ella! did I indeed say this?" exclaimed Reynolds, with a start, while his features became deadly pale. "Did I say more? did I mention further particulars?--speak! tell me--tell me truly!"

  "Not in my hearing," answered Ella, while her own face blanched at the sudden vehemence of the other.

  "Well, well, do not be alarmed!" said Reynolds, evidently somewhat relieved, and softening his voice, as he noticed the change in her countenance; "people sometimes say strange things, when reason, the great regulator of the tongue, is absent. What construction did you put upon my words, Ella?"

  "Why, in sooth," replied Ella, watching his features closely as she spoke, "I thought nothing of them, other than to suppose you might formerly have had some trouble; and that in the chaos of wild images crowding your brain, after being attacked and wounded by savages, it was natural some of these image should be of a bloody nature."

  "Then you did not look upon the words as having reference to a reality."

  "No! at the time I did not."

  "At the time?" repeated Reynolds, with a slight fall of countenance; "have you then seen or heard any thing since to make you suspicious?"

  "Nothing--until--"

  "Well, well," said Reynolds, quickly, as she hesitated; "speak out and fear nothing!"

  "Until but now, when you became so agitated, and spoke so vehemently on my repeating your delirious language," added Ella, concluding the sentence.

  "Ha!" ejaculated Reynolds, as if to himself; "sanity has done more to betray me than delirium. Well, Ella," continued he, addressing her more direct, "you have heard enough to make you doubtful of my character; therefore you must needs hear the whole, that you may not judge me worse than I am; but remember, withal, the tale is for your ear alone."

  "Nay, Mr. Reynolds, if it be a secret, I would rather not have it in keeping," answered Ella.

  "It is a secret," returned Reynolds, solemnly, with his eyes cast down in a dejected manner; "a secret, I would to Heaven I had not myself in keeping! but hear it you must, Ella, for various reasons, from my lips; and then we part--(his voice slightly faltered) we part--forever!"

  "Forever!" gasped Ella, quickly, with a choking sensation, while her features grew pale, and then suddenly flushed, and her work unconsciously dropped from her hand. Then, as if ashamed of having betrayed her feelings, she became confused, and endeavored to cover the exposure by adding, with a forced laugh: "But really, Mr. Reynolds, I must crave pardon for my silly behavior--but your manner of speaking, somehow, startled me--and--and I--before I was aware--really, it was very silly--indeed it was, and I pray you overlook it!"

  "Were circumstances not as I have too much reason to fear they are," returned Reynolds, slowly, sadly, and impressively, with his eyes fixed earnestly and even tenderly upon the other, "I would not exchange that simple expression of yours, Ella, for a mine of gold. By that alone you have spoken volumes, and told me what I already feared was true, but hoped was otherwise. Nay, turn not your head away, Ella--dear Ella, if you will allow me so to address you--it is better, under the circumstances, that we speak plainly and understandingly, as the time of our final separation draweth near. I fear that my manner and language have hitherto too much expressed my feelings, and encouraged hopes in you that can never be realized. Oh! Ella, if such be the case, I would, for your dear sake, we had never met!--and the thought hereafter, that I have caused you a pang, will add its weight of anguish to my already bitter lot. The days that I have spent beneath this hospi
table roof, and in your sweet presence, are so many of bright sunshine, in a life of cloud and storm; but will only serve, as I recall them, to make the remainder, by contrast, seem more dark and dreary. From the first I learned you were an orphan, and my sympathy was aroused in your behalf; subsequently, I listened to your recital of grief, and trouble, and cold treatment by the world--told in an artless manner--and in spite of me, in spite of my struggles to the contrary, I discovered awakening in my breast a feeling of a stronger nature. Had my wound permitted, I should have torn myself from your presence then, with the endeavor, if such a thing were possible, to forget you; but, alas! fate ordered otherwise, and the consequence I fear will be to add sorrow to both. But one thing, dear Ella, before I go further, let me ask: Can you, and will you forgive me, for the manner in which I have conducted myself in your company?"

  "I have nothing to forgive; and had I, it should be forgiven," answered Ella, sweetly, in a timid voice, her hands unconsciously toying with her needle-work, and her face half averted, whereon could be traced the suppressed workings of internal emotion.

  "Thank you, Ella--thank you, for taking a weight from my heart. And now, ere I proceed with what to both of us will prove a painful revelation, let me make one request more--a foolish one I know--but one I trust you will grant nevertheless."

  "Name it," said Ella, timidly, as the other paused.

  "It is, simply, that in judging me by the evidence I shall give against myself, you will lean strongly to the side of mercy; and, when I am gone, think of me rather as an unfortunate than criminal being."

  "You alarm me, Mr. Reynolds, with such a request!" answered Ella, looking up to the other with a pale, anxious countenance. "I know not the meaning of it! and, as I said before, I would rather not have your secret in keeping--the more so, as you say the revelation will be a painful one to both."

  For a moment the young man paused, as though undecided as to his reply, while his countenance expressed a look of mortified regret really painful to behold--so much so, that Ella, moved by this to a feeling of compassion, said:

  "I perceive my answer wounds your feelings--I meant no harm; go on with your story; I will listen, and endeavor to concede all you desire."

  "Thank you--again thank you!" returned the other, energetically, with emotion. "I will make my narrative brief as possible."

  Saying which, he entered the apartment where the other was sitting, and seating himself a few feet distant from her, after some little hesitation, as if to bring his resolution to the point, thus began:

  "I shall pass over all minor affairs of my life, and come at once to the period and event, which changed me from a happy youth, blessed with home and friends, to a wanderer--I know not but an outlaw--on the face of the earth. I was born in the state of Connecticut, A.D. 1759; and my father being a man of property, and one determined on giving his children (of whom there were two, one older than myself) a liberal education, I was at an early age sent to a neighboring school, where I remained until turned of eighteen, and then returned to my parents.

  "About this period, an old, eccentric lady--a maiden aunt of my father--died, bequeathing to me--or rather to the second born of her nephew, Albert Reynolds, which chanced to be myself--the bulk of her property--in value some fifty thousand dollars, on condition, that, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, I should marry a certain Elvira Longworth--a lady some three years my junior, for whom my great aunt had formed a strong attachment. And the will further provided, That in case the said second born of Albert Reynolds, either through the intervention of Providence, in removing him from off the face of the earth, (so it was worded) and from among the living, or through a mutual dislike of the parties seemed, did not between the specified ages, celebrate, with due rejoicing, the said nuptials with the said Elvira Longworth, the sum of twenty thousand dollars should be paid over to the said Elvira, if living, and the remainder of the property (or in case she was deceased the whole) should revert to the regular heirs at law.

  "Such was the will--one of the most singular perhaps on record--which, whatever the design of its author, was destined, by a train of circumstances no one could foresee, to result in the most terrible consequences to those it should have benefited. On the reading thereof, no little dissatisfaction was expressed in regard to it, by numerous relatives of the deceased; each of whom, as a matter of course, was expecting a considerable share of the old lady's property; and all of whom, with but few exceptions, were nearer akin than myself; and therefore, in that respect, more properly entitled to it. As a consequence of the will, I, though innocent of its construction--for none could be more surprised at it than myself--became a regular target for the ridicule, envy, and hate of those who chanced to be disappointed thereby. At the outset, I had no intention of seeking a title to the property by complying with the specification set forth at the instance of its late owner; and only looked upon it as a piece of crack-brained folly, that would serve for a nine days' comment and jest, and then be forgotten; but when I saw, that instead of being treated with the courtesy and respect no conscious act of mine had ever forfeited, I was ridiculed, sneered at, and looked upon with jealousy and hate by those whose souls were too narrow to believe in a noble action--and who, measuring and judging me by their own sordid standards of avaricious justice, deemed I would spare no pains to legally rob them, as they termed it,--when I saw this, I say, my blood became heated, my fiercer passions were roused, and I inwardly swore, that if it were now in my power to accomplish what they feared, I would do it, though the lady in question were a fright to look upon. In this decision I was rather encouraged by my father, who being at the time somewhat involved, thought it a feasible plan of providing for me, and then, by my aid, recovering from his own pecuniary embarrassments.

  "As yet I had never seen Elvira--she living in an adjoining county, some thirty miles distant, where my aunt, on a visit to a distant relative, had first made her acquaintance, and formed that singular attachment, peculiar to eccentric temperaments, which had resulted in the manner already shown. Accordingly, one fine spring morning, I mounted my horse, and set forth to seek my intended, and behold what manner of person she was of. Late at night I arrived at the village where she resided--stabled my beast--took lodging at a hotel--inquired out her residence--and, betimes, the morning following, made my obeisance in her presence, and with that bashful, awkward grace--if I may be allowed so paradoxical a term--which my youth present purpose, and former good breeding combined, were calculated to produce. I was more embarrassed still a minute after, when, having given my name, and hinted at the singular document of the old lady deceased, I found my fair intended, as well as her family, were in total ignorance of my meaning; and could I at the moment have been suddenly transferred to my horse, I do not think I should have paused to make the necessary explanation. As it was, there was no alternative; and accordingly begging a private interview with Elvira, I disclosed the whole secret; which she listened to for a time with unfeigned surprise; and then bursting into a wild, ringing laugh, declared it to be 'The funniest and most ridiculous thing she ever heard of.'

  "She was a gay, sprightly, beautiful being--fresh in the bloom of some fifteen summers--with a bright, sparkling, roguish eye--long, floating, auburn ringlets--a musical voice--a ringing laugh--the latter frequent and long,--so that I soon felt it needed not the stimulating desire of wealth and revenge to urge me on to that, which, under any circumstances, would have been by no means disagreeable. To make a long story short, I called upon her at stated periods; and, within a year from our first acquaintance, we were plighted to each other. About this time my father, together with some influential friends, procured me a lieutenancy, to serve in our present struggle for the maintainance of that glorious independence, drawn up by the immortal Jefferson, and signed by the noble patriots some two years before. I served a two years' campaign, and fought in the unfortunate and bloody battle of Camden; which resulted, as doubtless you have heard, in great loss and defeat to the
American arms. Shortly after the action commenced, our captain was killed, and the command of the company devolved on me. I fulfilled my duties to the best of my ability, and myself and men were in the hottest of the fight. But from some alleged misdemeanor, whereof I can take my oath I was guiltless, I was afterward very severely censured by one of my superior officers; which so wounded my feelings, that I at once resigned my commission and returned to my native state.