“Let us not despair, answered Alonzo; perhapsthosegloomy clouds which now hover around us, will yet be dissipated by the bright beams of joy. Innocence and virtue are the cares of Heaven. There lies my hope. To-morrow, as you propose, I will call atyourfather’s.”Melissa now prepared to return home; a whippoorwill tuned its nightly song at a little distance; but the sound,lateso cheerful and sprightly, now passed heavily over their hearts.When Alonzo returned, Vincent unfolded the plan he had projected. “No sooner, said he, was I informed of your misfortunes, than I was convinced that Melissa’s father would endeavour to dissolve your intended union with his daughter. I have known him many years, and however he may dote on his children, or value their happiness, he will not hesitate to sacrifice his other feelings to the acquirement of riches. It appeared that you had but one resource left. You and Melissa are now united by the most solemn ties—by every rite except those which are merely ceremonial. These Iwould advise you to enter into, and trust to the consequences. Mrs. Vincent has proposedthescheme to Melissa; but implicitly accustomed to filial obedience, she shudders at the idea of a clandestine marriage. But when her father shall proceed to rigorous measures, she will, I think, consent to the alternative. And this measure, once adopted, her father must consent also; or, if not, you secure your own happiness, and, what you esteem more, that of Melissa.”“But you must be sensible of my inability to support her as she deserves, replied Alonzo, even should she consent to it.”“Theworld is before you, answered Vincent; you have friends, you have acquirements which will not fail you. In a country like this, you can hardly fail of obtaining a competency, which, with the other requisites, will ensure your independence and felicity.”Alonzo informed Vincent what had been agreed upon between Melissa and himself, respecting his visiting her on the morrow; “after which, he said, we will discourse further on the subject.”The next day Alonzo repaired to the house of Melissa’s father. As he approached he saw Melissa sitting in a shady recess at one end of the garden near which the road passed. She was leaning with herhead upon her hand, in a pensive posture; a deep dejection was depicteduponher features, which enlivened into a transient glow as soon as she saw Alonzo. She arose, met him, and invited him into the house.Alonzo was received with acoolreserve by all except Melissa. Her father saluted him with a distant and retiring bow, as he passed with Melissa to her room. As soon as they were seated, a maiden aunt, who had doubled her teens, outlived many of her suiters, and who had lately come to reside with the family, entered, and seated herself by the window, alternately humming atune,and impudently staring at Alonzo, without speaking a word, except snappishly, to contradict Melissa in any thing she advanced, which the latter passed off with only a faint smile.This interruption was not of long continuance. Melissa’s fathersoonentered, and requested the two ladies to withdraw, which was instantly done. He then addressed Alonzo as follows:——“When I gave consent for you to marry my daughter, it was on the conviction that your future resources would be adequate to support her honourably and independently. Circumstances have since taken place, which render this point extremely doubtful. Parental duty and affectiondemandthat I should know your means and prospects before I sanctiona proceeding which may reduce my child to penury andtowant.”He paused for a reply, but Alonzo was silent. He continued—“You yourself must acknowledge, that to burthen yourself with the expense of a family; to transfer a woman from affluence to poverty, without even an object in view to provide for either, would be the height of folly and extravagance.” Again he paused, but Alonzo was still silent. He proceeded—“Could you, Alonzo, suffer life, when you see the wife of your bosom, probably your infant children, pining in misery for want of bread? And what else have you to expect if you marry in your present situation?I know you have talents and have had an education. But what are they without means?You have friends and well wishers; but which of them will advance you four or five thousand pounds, as a gratuity? My daughter must be supported according to her rank and standing in life. Are you enabled to do this? If not, you cannot reasonably suppose that I shall consent to your marrying her. You may say that your acquirements, your prudence, and your industry, will procure you a handsome support. Thiswell maydo in single life; but to depend on these for the future exigencies of a family, is hazarding peace, honour and reputation, at a single game of chance. If, therefore, you have no resources orexpectationbut such as these, your own judgment will teach you the necessity of immediately relinquishing all pretensions to the handof Melissa”—andimmediately left the room.Why was Alonzo speechless through the whole of this discourse?—What reply could he have made? What were the prospects before him but penury, want, misery, and woe! Where, indeed, were the means by which Melissa was to be shielded from poverty, if connected with his fortunes. The idea was not new, but itcameupon him with redoubled anguish. He arose and looked around for Melissa, but she was not to be seen. He left the house, and walked slowly towards Vincent’s. At a little distance he met Melissa, who had been strolling in an adjoining avenue. He informed her of all that had passed; it was no more than they both expected, yet it was a shock their fortitude could scarcelysustain. Disappointment seldom findshervotaries prepared to receive her.Melissa told Alonzo, that her father’s determinations were unchangeable; that his sister (the before mentioned maiden lady) held a considerable influence over him, and dictated the concerns of the family; and that from her, there was nothing to hope in their favour. Her mother, she said, was her friend, but could notcontradictthewill of her father. Her brother would be at home in a few days; how he would act on this occasion she was unable to say: but were he even their friend he would have but feeble influence with her father and aunt. “What is to be the end of these troubles, continued Melissa, it is impossible to foresee. Let us trust in the mercy of heaven and submit to its dispensations.”Alonzo and Melissa, in their happier days, had, when absent, corresponded by letters. This method it was now thought best to relinquish. It was agreed that Alonzo should come frequently to Vincent’s, where Melissa would meet him as she could find opportunities. Having concluded on this, Melissa returned home, and Alonzo to the house of his friend.Vincent, after Alonzo had relatedthe manner ofhis reception at Melissa’s father’s, urged the plan he had projected of a private marriage. Alonzo replied, that even should Melissa consent to it, which he much doubted, it must be a measure of the last resort, and adopted only when all others became fruitless.The next morning Alonzo returned to the hut where his aged parents now dwelt. His bosom throbbed with keen anguish. His own fate, unconnected with that of Melissa, he considered of little consequence. Buttheir united situation tortured his soul.—Whatwas to become of Melissa, what of himself, what of his parents!—“Alas, said Alonzo, I now perceive what it is to want the good things of this life.”Alonzo’s father was absent when he arrived, but returned soon after. A beam of joy gleamed upon his withered countenance as he entered the house. “Were it not, Alonzo, for your unhappy situation, said he, we should once more be restored to peace and comfort. A few persons who were indebted to me, finding that I was to be sacrificed by my unfeeling creditors, reserved those debts in their hands, and have now paid me, amounting to something more than five hundred pounds. Withpart ofthis I have purchased a small, but well cultivated farm, with convenient tenements. I have enough left to purchase what stock and other materials I need; and to spare some for your present exigencies, Alonzo.”Alonzo thanked his father for his kindness, but told himthatfrom his former liberality he had yet sufficient for his wants, and that he should soon find business which would amply support him. “But your affair with Melissa, asked his father, how isthatlikely to terminate?” “Favourably, I hope, sir,” answered Alonzo. He could notconsent to disturb the tranquillity of his parents by reciting his own wretchedness.A week passed away. Alonzo saw his parents removed to their little farm, which was to be managed by his father and a hired man. He saw them comfortably seated; he saw them serenely blest in the calm pleasures of returning peace, and a ray of joyilluminatedhis troubled bosom.“Again the youth his wonted life regain’d,A transient sparkle in his eye obtain’d,A bright, impassion’d cheering glow, express’dThe pleas’d sensation of his tender breast:But soon dark glooms the feeble smiles o’erspread;Like morn’sgayhues, the fading splendours fled;Returning anguish froze his feeling soul,Deep sighs burst forth, and tears began to roll.”He thoughtofMelissa, from whom he had heard nothing since he last saw her.—He thoughtofthe difficulties which surrounded him. He thoughtofthe barriers which were opposed to his happiness and the felicity of Melissa, and he set out for the house of Vincent.Alonzo arrived at the residence of Vincent near the close oftheday. Vincent and his lady were at tea with several young ladies who had passed the afternoon with Mrs. Vincent. Alonzo cast an active glance around the company, in hopes to find Melissa, but she was not there. He was invited and accepted a seat at table. After tea Vincent led him into an adjoiningroom. “You have come in good time, said he. Something must speedily be done, or you lose Melissa forever. The day after youwerehere, her father received a letter from Beauman, in which, after mentioning the circumstance of your father’s insolvency, he hinted that the consequence would probably be a failure of her proposed marriage with you, which might essentially injure the reputation of a lady of her standing in life; to prevent which, and to place her beyond the reach of calumny, he offered to marry her at any appointed day, provided he had her free consent.“As Beauman, by the recent death of his father, had been put in possession of a splendid fortune, the proposition allured her father, who wrote him a complaisant answer, with an invitation to his house.—He then strove to extort a promise from Melissa, that she would break off all connexion with you, see you no more, and admit the addresses of Beauman.“To this she could not consent. She urged, that by the consent of her parents she was engaged to you by the most sacred ties. That to her father’s will she had hitherto yielded implicit obedience, but that hastily to break the most solemn obligation, formed and sanctioned by his approbation and direction, was what her conscience would notpermit her to do. Were he to command her to live single, life might be endured; but to give her hand to any except you, would be to perjure those principles of truth and justice which he himself had ever taught her to hold most inviolable.—Her father grew outrageous; charged her with disobedience, with a blind inconsiderate perverseness, by which she would bring ruin upon herself, and indelible disgrace upon her family. She answered only with her tears. Her mother interposed, and endeavoured to appease his anger; but he spurned her from him, and rushed out of the room, uttering a threat that force should succeed persuasion, if his commands were not obeyed. To add to Melissa’s distress, Beauman arrived at her father’s yesterday; and I hope, in some measure to alleviate it. Edgar, her brother,camethis morning.—Mrs. Vincent has dispatched a message to inform Melissa of your arrival, and to desire her to come here immediately. She will undoubtedly comply with the invitation, if not prevented by something extraordinary. I should have written you had I not hourly expected you.”Mrs. Vincent nowcameto the door of the room and beckoned to her husband, who went out, but immediately returned, leading in Melissa after which he retired.“Oh, Alonzo!” was all she could say, and burst into tears. Alonzo led her to a seat, gently pressed her hand, and mingled his tears with hers, but was unable to speak.—Recovering at length, he begged her to moderate her grief. “Where, said he,is your fortitude andyourfirmness,said he,Melissa, which I have so often seen triumphing over affliction?” Her extreme anguish prevented a reply. Deeply affected and alarmed at the storm of distress which raged in her bosom, he endeavoured to console her, though consolation was a stranger to his own breast. “Let us not, Melissa, said he, increase our flood of affliction by a tide of useless sorrow. Perhaps more prosperous days are yet in reserve for us;—happiness may yet be ours.” “Never, never! she exclaimed. Oh, what will become of me!” “Heaven cannot desert you, said Alonzo; as well might it desert its angels. This thorny and gloomy path may lead to fair fields of light and verdure. Tempests are succeeded by calms;wars endin peace; the splendours of the brightest morning arise on the wings oftheblackest midnight.——Troubles will not always last. Life at most is short. Death comes to the relief of the virtuous wretched, and transports them to another andabetter world, where sighing and sorrows cease,and the tempestuous passions of life are known no more.”The rage of grief which had overwhelmed Melissa began now to subside, as the waves of the ocean gradually cease their tumultuous commotion, after the turbulent winds are laid asleep. Deep sobs and long drawn sighs succeeded to a suffocation of tears. The irritation of her feelings had caused a more than usual glow upon her cheek, which faded away as she became composed, until a livid paleness spread itself over her features. Alonzo feared that the delicacy of her constitution would fall a sacrifice to the sorrow which preyed upon her heart, if not speedily alleviated;—butalas! wherewere the means of alleviation?She informed him that her father had that evening ordered her toprepare tobecome the wife of Beauman. He told her that her disobedience was no longer to be borne.—“No longer, said he, will I tamper with your perverseness: you are determined to be poor, wretched and contemptible. I will compel you to be rich, happy, and respected. You suffer theJack-a-lanternfancy to lead you into swamps and quagmires, when, did you but follow the fair light of reason, it would conduct you to honour and real felicity. There are happiness and misery at your choice.“Marry Beauman, and youwillroll in your coach, flaunt in your silks; your furniture and yourequipageare splendid, your associates are of the first character, and your father rejoices in your prosperity.“Marry Alonzo, you sink into obscurity, are condemned to drudgery, poorly fed, worse clothed, and your relations and acquaintances shun and despise you. The comparison I have here drawn between Beauman and Alonzo is a correct one; for even the wardrobe of the former is of more value than the whole fortune of the latter.“I give you now two days to considerofthe matter; at the end of that time I shall expect your decision, and hope you will decidediscretely. But remember that you become the wife of Beauman, or you are no longer acknowledged as my daughter.”“Thus, said Melissa, did my father pronounce his determination, which shook my frame, and chilled with horror every nerve of my heart, and immediately left me.“My aunt added her taunts to his severities, and Beauman interfered with his ill-timed consolation. My mother andEdgarardently strove to allay the fever of my soul, and mitigate my distress. But the stroke was almost too severe for my nature. Habituated only to the smiles of my father, how could I support his frowns?—Accustomedto receive his blessings alone, how could I endure his sudden malediction.”Description would fail in painting the sensations of Alonzo’s bosom, at this recital of woe. But he endeavoured to mitigate her sorrows by the consolation of more cheering prospects and happier hours.Vincent and his lady now came into the room. They strenuously urged the propriety and the necessity of Alonzo and Melissa’s entering into the bands of wedlock immediately. “The measure would be hazardous,” remarked Melissa. “My circumstances”—said Alonzo. “Not on that account, interrupted Melissa, but my father’s displeasure——” “Will be the same, whether you marry Alonzo, or refuse to marry Beauman,” replied Vincent. Her resolution appeared to be staggered.“Come here, Melissa, to-morrow evening, said Mrs. Vincent; mean time you will consider the matter, and then determine.” To this Melissa assented, and prepared to return home.Alonzo walked with her to the gate which opened into the yard surrounding her father’s house. It was dangerous for him to go farther. Should he be discovered with Melissa, even by a domestic of the family, it must increase the persecutions against her. They parted. Alonzo stood at the gate,gazing anxiously after Melissa as she walked up the long winding avenue, bordered with theodour-flowinglilac, and lofty elm, her white robes now invisible, now dimly seen as she turned the angles of the walk, until they were totally obscured, mingling with the gloom and darkness of the night. “Thus, said Alonzo, thus fades the angel of peace from the visionary eyes of the war-worn soldier, when it ascends in the dusky clouds of early morning, while he slumbers on the field of recent battle.”—With mournful forebodings he returned to the house of Vincent. He arose after a sleeplessnightand walked into an adjoining field. He stood leaning in deep contemplation against a tree, when he heard quick footsteps behind him. He turnedround, and saw Edgar approaching: in a moment they were in each other’s arms, andmingledtears. They returned to Vincent’s and conversed largely on present affairs. “I have discoursed with my father on the subject, said Edgar. I have urged him with every possible argument to relinquish his determination: I fear, however, he is inflexible.“To assuage the tempest of grief which rent Melissa’s bosom was my next object, and in this I trust I have not been unsuccessful. You will see her this evening, and will find her more calm and resigned. You,Alonzo, musteverexert your fortitude. The ways of Heaven are inscrutable, but they are right.“We must acquiesce in its dealings. We cannot alter its decrees. Resignation to its will, whether merciful or afflictive, is one of those eminent virtues which adorn the good man’s character, andwhichever find a brilliant reward in the regions of unsullied splendour, far beyond trouble and the tomb.”Edgar told Alonzo that circumstances compelled him that day to depart for the army.“Iwould advise you, said he, to remain here until your affair comes to some final issue. It must, I think, ere long, beterminated. Perhaps you and my sister may yet be happy.”Alonzo feelingly expressed his gratitude to Edgar. He found in him that disinterested friendship, which his early youth had experienced. Edgar the same day departed for the army.In the afternoon Alonzo received a note from Melissa’s father, requesting his immediate attendance. Surprised at the incident, he repaired there immediately. The servant introduced him into a room where Melissa’s father and aunt were sitting.——“Hearing you were in the neighbourhood, said her father, I have sent for you, to make a proposition, which after what has takenplace, I think you cannot hesitate to comply with. The occurrence of previous circumstances may lead you to suppose that my daughter is under obligations to you, which may render it improper for her to form marriage connections with any other. Whatever embarrassments your addresses to her may have produced, it is in your power to remove them; and if you are a man of honour you will remove them. You cannot wish to involve Melissa in your present penurious condition, unless you wish to make her wretched. It therefore only remains for you to give me a writing, voluntarily resigning all pretensions to the hand of my daughter; and if you wish her to be happy, honourable, and respected in this life, this I say you will not hesitate to do.”A considerable pause ensued. Alonzo at length replied, “I cannot perceive any particular advantage that can accrue from such a measure. It will neither add nor diminish the power you possess to command obedience to your will, if you are determined to command it, either from your daughter, or your servant.”——“There, brother,” bawled the old maid, halfsqueakingthrough her nose, which was well charged with rappee, “did’nt I tell you so? I knew the fellow wouldnot come toterms no more than will your refractorydaughter. This love fairly bewitches such foolish, crack-brained youngsters. But say Mr.——, what’s your name, addressing herself to Alonzo, will love heat the oven? will love boil the pot? will love clothe the back? will love——”“You will not, interrupted Melissa’s father, speaking to Alonzo, it seems, consent to my proposition? I have then, one demand to make, which of right you cannot deny. Promise me that you will never see my daughter again, unless by my permission.”“At the present moment I shall promise you nothing,” replied Alonzo, with some warmth.“There again, said the old maid, just so Melissa told you this morning, when you requested her to see him no more. The fellow has fairly betwattled her.I wish I had him to deal with. Things wasn’t so when I was a girl; I kept the rogues at a distance, I’ll warrant you. I always told you, brother, what would come of your indulgence to your daughter.AndI should not wonder if you should soon findthatthe girl had eloped, and your desk robbedinthe bargain.”Alonzo hastily arose: “I suppose, said he, my presence can be dispensed with.”“Well, young man, said Melissa’s father,since you will not comply with any overtures I make; since you will not accede to any terms I propose, remember, sir, I now warn you to break off all communication and correspondence with my daughter, and to relinquish all expectations concerning her. I shall never consent to marry my daughter to a beggar.”“Beggar!” involuntarily exclaimed Alonzo, and his eyesflashed inresentment.—But he recollected that it was the father of Melissa who had thus insulted him, and he suppressed his anger. He rushed out of the house, and returned to Vincent’s. He had neither heard nor seen any thing of Melissa or Beauman.Night came on, and he ardently and impatiently expected Melissa. He anticipated the consolation her presence would bestow. Edgar had told him she was more composed. He doubted whether it were proper to excite anew her distress by relating his interview with her father, unless she wasalreadyappraisedof it. The evening passed on, but Melissa came not. Alonzo grew restless and uneasy. He looked out, then at his watch. Vincent and his lady assured himthatshe would soon be there. He pacedtheroom. Still he became more impatient. He walked out on the waywhereshe was expected to come. Sometimes headvanced hastily; at others he moved slowly; then stood motionless, listening in breathless silence, momentarily expecting to discover her white form approaching through the gloom, or to hear the sound of her footsteps advancing amidst the darkness. Shapeless objects, either real or imaginary, frequently crossed his sight, but, like the unreal phantoms of night, they suddenly passed away, and were seen no more. At length he perceived a dusky white form advancing in the distant dim obscurity. It drew near; his heart beat in quick succession; his fond hopes told him it was Melissa. The object came up, and hastily passed him, with a “good night, sir.”It was a stranger in a white surtout. Alonzo hesitated whether to advance or to return. It was possible, though not probable, that Melissa might have come some other way. He hastened back to Vincent’s—she had not arrived. “Something extraordinary, said Mrs. Vincent, has prevented her coming. Perhaps she is ill.”—Alonzo shuddered at the suggestion. He looked at his watch; it was half past eleven o’clock. Again he hastily sallied out, and took the road to her father’s.The night was exceedingly dark, and illuminated only by the feebleglimmeringof the twinkling stars. When he came withinsight of the house, and as he drew near no lights were visible—all was still and silent. He entered the yard, walked up the avenue, and approached the door. The familiar watch-dog, which lay near the threshold, fawned upon him, joyfully whining and wagging his tail. “Thou still knowest me,Curlow, said Alonzo; thou hast known me in better days; I am now poor and wretched, but thy friendship is the same.” A solemn stillness prevailed all around, interrupted only by the discordance of the nightly insects, and the hooting of the moping owl from the neighbouring forest.—The dwelling was shrouded in darkness. In Melissa’s room no gleam of light appeared. “They are all buried in sleep, said Alonzo, deeply sighing, and I have only to return in disappointment.”He turned and walked towards the street; casting his eyes back, the blaze of a candle caught his sight. It passed rapidly along through the lower rooms, now gleaming, now intercepted, as the walls or the windows intervened, and suddenly disappeared. Alonzo gazed earnestly a few moments, and hastily returned back. No noise was to be heard, no new objects were discernible.—He clambered over the garden wall, and went around to the back side of the house. Here allwassolemn, darkand silent as in front.Immediately a faint light appeared through one of the chamber windows; it grew brighter; a candle entered the chamber; the sash was flung up, and Melissa seated herself at the window.The weather was sultry, she held a fan in her hand; her countenance, though stamped with deep dejection, was marked with serenity, but pale as the drooping lily of the valley. Alonzo placed himself directly under the window, and in a low voice called her by name. She started wildly, looked out, and faintly cried, “Who’s there?” He answered, “Alonzo.” “Good heavens, she exclaimed, is it you, Alonzo? I was disappointed in meeting you at Vincent’s this evening; my father will not suffer me to go out without attendants. I am now constantly watched and guarded.”“Watched and guarded! replied Alonzo: At the risque of my life I will deliver you from the tyranny with which you are oppressed.”“Be calm, Alonzo, said she, I think it will notlast long. Beauman will soon depart, after which there will undoubtedly be some alteration. Desire Mrs. Vincent to come here to-morrow; I believe they willlet mesee her. I can, from time to time, inform you of passing events, so that you may know what changes take place. I amplaced under the care of my aunt, who suffers me not to step out of her sight. We pass the night in an adjoining chamber—from whence, after she had fallen asleep, I stole out, and went down with a design of walking in the garden, but found the doors all locked and the keys taken out. I returned and raisedthiswindow for fresh air. Hark! said she; my aunt calls me. She has waked and misses me. I must fly to her chamber. You shall hear more from me to-morrow by Mrs. Vincent, Alonzo.” So saying, she let down the window sash, and retired.Alonzo withdrew slowly from the place, and repassed the way he came. As he jumped back over the garden wall, he found a man standing at its foot, very near him: after a moment’s scrutiny he perceived it to be Beauman. “What, my chevalier, said he to Alonzo, such an adept in the amorous science already? Hast thou then eluded the watchful eyes of Argus, and the vigilance of the dragon!”“Unfeeling and impertinentintruder,retorted Alonzo, seizing hold of him; is it not enough that an innocent daughter must endure a merciless parent’s persecuting hand, but must thou add to her misery by thy disgusting interference!”“Quit thy hold, tarquin, said Beauman.Art thou determined, after storming the fortress, to murder the garrison?”“Go, said Alonzo, quitting him; go sir, you are unworthy of my anger. Pursue thy grovelling schemes. Strive to force to your arms a lady who abhors you, and were itnot on oneaccount, must ever continue todespise and hateyou.”“Alonzo, replied Beauman, I perceive thou knowest me not. You and I were rivals in our pursuit—the hand of Melissa. Whether from freak or fortune, the preference was given to you, and I retired in silence. Fromacoincidence ofcircumstances, her father has now been induced to give the preference to me. My belief was, that Melissa would comply with her father’s will, especially after her prospects of connecting with you were cut off by the events which ruined your fortune. You, Alonzo, have yet, I find, to learn the character of women. It has been my particular study. Melissa, now ardently impassioned by first impressions, irritated by recent disappointment, her passions delicate and vivid, her affections animated and unmixed, it would be strange, if she could suddenly relinquish primitive attachments founded on such premises, without a struggle. But remove her from your presenceforone year, with only distant and uncertain prospects of seeingyou again, admit me as the substitute in your absence, and she accepts my hand as freely as she would now receive yours. I had no design—it was never my wish to marry her without her consent. That I believe I shall yet obtain. Under existing circumstances, it is impossible butthatyou must be separated for some considerable time. Then, when cool deliberation succeeds to the wild vagaries, the electric fire of frolic fancy, she will discover the dangerous precipice, the deadly abyss to which her present conduct and inclinations lead. She will see that the blandishments, without thepossessionsof life, must fade and die. She will discriminate between the shreds andthetrappings of taste. She will prefer indifference and splendour to love and a cottage.“At present I relinquish allfurther persuit; to-morrow I return to New-London. When Melissa, from calm deliberation and the advice of friends, shall freely consent to yield me her hand, I shall return to receive it. I came from my lodgings this evening to declare these intentions to her father: but it being later than I was aware of, the family hadgoneto rest. I was about to return, when I saw a light fromthechamber window, which soon withdrew. I stood a moment by the garden wall, whenyou approached and discovered me.” So saying, he bade Alonzo good night, and walked hastily away. “I find he knows not the character of Melissa,” said Alonzo, and returned to Vincent’s.The next day Alonzo told the Vincents of all that had passed, and it was agreed that Mrs. Vincent should visit at Melissa’s father’s that afternoon. She went at an early hour. Alonzo’s feelings were on therackuntil she returned, which happened much sooner than was expected; when she gave him and Vincent the following information:“When I arrived there, said she, I found Melissa’s father and mother alone, her mother was in tears, which she endeavoured to conceal. Her father soon withdrew. After some conversation I enquired for Melissa. The old lady burst into tears, and informed me that this morning Melissa’s aunt(the old maid)had invited her to ride out with her. A carriage was provided, which, after a large trunk had been placed therein, drove off with Melissa and her aunt; that Melissa’s father had just been informing her that he had sent their daughter to adistantpart of the country, where she was to reside with a friend until Alonzo should depart from the neighbourhood. The reason of this sudden resolution was his beinginformed by Beauman, that notwithstanding his precaution, Melissa and Alonzo had an interview the last evening. Where she was sent to, the old lady could not tell, but she was convinced that Melissa was not apprised of the design when she consented to go. Her aunt had heretofore been living with thedifferentrelatives of the family in various parts of the state.”Alonzo listened to Mrs. Vincent’s relation with inexpressible agitation. He sat silent a few moments; then suddenlystartingup, “I will find her if she be on the earth!” said he, and in spite of Vincent’s attempts to prevent him, rushed out of the house, flew to the road, and was soon out of sight.Melissa had not, indeed,the most distant suspicion of the designs of her father and aunt. The latter informed her that she was going to take amorning’sride, and invited Melissa to accompany her, to which she consented. She did not even perceive the trunkwhichwas fastened on behind the carriage. They were attended by a single servant. They drove to a neighbouring town, where Melissa had frequently attended her fatherandmother to purchase articles of dress, &c. where they alighted at a friend’s house, and lingered away the time until dinner; after which, they prepared,as Melissa supposed, to return, but found, to her surprise, after they had entered the carriage, that her aunthadordered the driver to proceed a different way. She asked her aunt if they were not going home. “Not yet,” said she. Melissa grew uneasy; she knewthatshe was to see Mrs. Vincent that afternoon; she knew the disappointment which Alonzo must experience, if she was absent. She begged her aunt to return, as she expected the company of some ladies that afternoon. “Then they must be disappointed, child,” said her aunt.—Melissa knew it was in vain to remonstrate; she supposed her aunt was bent on visiting some of her acquaintance, and she remained silent.They arrived at anothersmallvillage, and alighted at an inn, where Melissa and her aunt tarried, while the servant was ordered out by the latter on some business unknown to Melissa. When they again got into the carriage she perceived several large packages and bundles, which had been deposited there since they left it. She enquired of her aunt what they contained. “Articles for family use, child,” she replied, and ordered the driver to proceed.They passed along winding and solitary paths, into a bye road which led through an unfrequented wood, that opened into arocky part of the country bordering on the Sound. Here they stopped at the only house in view. It was a miserable hut, built of logs, and boarded with slabs. They alighted from the carriage, and Melissa’s aunt, handingthe driver a large bunch of keys, “remember to do as I have told you,” said she, and he drove rapidly away. It was with some difficulty they got into the hut, as a meagre cow, with a long yoke on her neck, a board before her eyes, and a cross piece on her horns, stood with her head in the door. On one side of her were four or five half starved squeaking pigs, on the other a flock of gaggling geese.As they entered the door, a woman who sat carding wool jumped up, “La me!she cried, here is Miss D——, welcome here again. How does madam do?” dropping a low curtsey. She was dressed in a linsey woolsey short gown, a petticoat of the same, her hair hanging about her ears, and barefoot. Three dirty, ragged children were playing about the floor, and the furniture was of a piece with the building. “Is my room in order?” enquired Melissa’s aunt. “It hasn’t been touched since madam was here,” answered the woman, and immediately stalked away to a little back apartment, which Melissa and her aunt entered. It was small, but neatly furnished, and containeda single bed. This appendage had been concealed from Melissa’s view, as it was the opposite side of the house fromwhenceshe alighted. “Where is John?” asked Melissa’s aunt. “My husband is in the garden, replied the woman; I will call him,” and out she scampered. John soon appeared, and exhibited an exact counter part of his wife. “What does madam please to want?” said he, bowing three or four times. “I want you John,” she answered, and immediately stepped into the other room, and gave some directions, in a low voice, to him and his wife. “La me! said the woman, madam a’nt a going to live in that doleful place?” Melissa could not understand her aunt’s reply, but heard her give directions to “first hang on the teakettle.” Thiswasdone, while John and his wife went out,andMelissa’s aunt prepared tea in her own room. In about an hour John and his wife returned, and gave the same bunch of keys to Melissa’s aunt, which she had given to the servant who drove the carriage.Melissa was involved in inscrutable mystery respecting these extraordinary proceedings. She conjectured that they boded her no good, but she could not penetrate into her aunt’sdesigns. She frequently looked out, hoping to see thecarriage return,but was disappointed. When tea was made ready, she could neither eat nor drink. After her aunt had disposed of a dozen cups of tea, and an adequate proportion of biscuit, butter and dried beef, she directed Melissa to prepare to take a walk. The sun was low; they proceeded through fields, in a foot path, over rough and uneven ways, directly towards the Sound. They walked about a mile, when they came to a large, old fashioned, castle-like building, surrounded bya high, thick wall, and almost totally concealed on all sides from the sight, by irregular rows of large locusts and elm trees, dry prim*hedges,*The botanical name of this shrub is not recollected. There were formerly a great number of prim hedges in New-England, and other parts of America. What is most remarkable is, that they all died the year previous to the commencement of the American war.and green shrubbery. The gate which opened into the yard, was made of strong hard wood, thickly crossed on the outside with iron bars, and filled with old iron spikes. Melissa’s aunt unlocked the gate, and they entered the yard, which was overgrown with rank grass and rushes: the avenue which led to the house was almost in the same condition. The house was of real Gothic architecture, built of rude stone, with battlements.The doors were constructed in the samemanner as the gate at which they entered the yard. They unlocked the door, whichcreakedheavily on its hinges, and went in. They ascended a flight of stairs, wound through several dark and empty rooms, till they came to one which was handsomely furnished, with a fire burning on the hearth. Two beds were in the room, with tablesandchairs, and other conveniences for house keeping. “Here we are safe, said Melissa’s aunt, as I havetakencare to lock all the doors and gates after me; and here, Melissa, you are in the mansion of your ancestors. Your greatgrand father, who came over from England, built this house in the earliestsettlementsof the country, and here he resided until his death. The reason why so high and thick a wall was built round it, and the doors and gates so strongly fortified, was to secure it against the Indians, who frequently committed depredations on the early settlers. Yourgrandfathercameinpossession of this estate after his father’s death: it fell to me by will, with the lands surrounding it. The house has sometimes been tenanted, at others not. It has now been vacant for a few years. The lands are rented yearly. John, the person from whose house we last came, is my overseer and tenant. I had a small room built, adjoining that hut, where I generallyreside for a week when I come to receive my rents. I have thought frequently of fitting up this place for my future residence, but circumstances have hitherto hinderedmy carrying thescheme into effect, and now, perhaps, it will never take place.“Yourperverseness, Melissa, in refusing to comply with the wishes of your friends, has induced us to adoptthemethod of bringing you here, where you are to remain until Alonzo leaves your neighbourhood, at least. Notwithstanding your father’s injunctions and my vigilance, you had a clandestine interview with him last night. So we were told by Beauman this morning, before he set off for New-London, who discovered him at your window. It therefore became necessary to remove you immediately. You will want for nothing. John is to supply us with whatever is needful.—You will not be long here; Alonzo will soon be gone. You will think differently; return home, marry Beauman, and become a lady.”“My God! exclaimed Melissa, is it possible my father can be so cruel! Is he so unfeeling as to banish me from his house, and confine me within the walls of a prison, like a common malefactor?” She flung herself on the bed in a state little inferior to distraction. Her aunt told her it wasall owing to her own obstinacy, and because she refused to be made happy—and went to preparing supper.Melissa heard none of her aunt’s observations; she lay in a stupifying agony, insensible to all that passed. When supper was ready, her aunt endeavoured to arouse her. She started up, stared around her with a wildandagonizing countenance, but spoke not a word. Her aunt became alarmed. She applied stimulants to her temples and forehead, and persuaded her to take some cordials. She remained seemingly insensiblethroughthe night: just at morning, she fell into a slumber, interrupted by incoherent moanings, convulsive startings, longdrawnsighs, intermitting sobs, and by frequent, sudden and restless turnings from side to side. At length she appeared to be in a calm and quiet sleep for about an hour. About sunrise she awoke—her auntsatby her bed side. She gazed languidly about the room, and burst into tears. She wept a long time; her aunt strove to console her, for she truly began to tremble, lest Melissa’s distress should produce her immediate dissolution. Towards night, however, she became more calm and resigned; but a slight fever succeeded, which kept her confined for several days, after which she slowly recovered.John came frequently to the house to receive the commands of Melissa’s aunt, and brought such things as they wanted. Her aunt also sometimes went home with him, leaving the keys of the house with Melissa, but locking the gate and taking the key of that with her.She generally returned before sunset.When Melissa was so far recovered as to walk out, she found that the house was situated on an eminence, about one hundred yards from the Sound. The yard was large and extensive. Within the enclosure was a spacious garden, now overrun with brambles and weeds. A fewmedinicaland odoriferous herbs were scattered here and there, and a few solitary flowers overtopped the tangling briars below; but there was plenty of fruit on the shrubbery and trees. Theout buildingswere generally in a ruinoussituation. The cemetery was the most perfect, as it was built of hewn stone and marble, and had best withstood the ravages of time. The rooms in the house were mostly empty and decaying: the main building was firm and strong, as was also the extended wall which enclosed the whole. She found that although her aunt, when they first arrived, had led her through several upper rooms to the chambertheyinhabited, yet there was from thence a direct passage to the hall.The prospect was not disagreeable. West, all was wilderness,from which a brookwound along a little distance from the garden wall. North, were the uneven groundswhichshe had crossed when she came there, bounded by distant groves and hills. East, beautiful meadows and fields, arrayed in flowery green, sloped tothesalt marshes or sandy banks of the Sound, or ended in the long white beaches which extended far into the sea. South, was the SoundofLong Island.Melissa passed muchof hertime in tracing the ruins of this antiquated place, in viewing the white sails as they passed up and down the Sound, and in listening to the songs of the thousand various birds which frequented the garden and the forest. She could have been contented here to have buriedallher afflictions, and for ever to retire from the world, could Alonzo but have resided within those walls. “What will he think has become of me,” she would say, while the disconsolate tearof reflectionglittered in her eye. Her aunt had frequently urged her to yield to her father’s injunctions, regain her liberty, and marry Beauman; and she every daybecamemore solicitous andimpertinent. A subject so hateful to Melissa sometimes provoked her to tears; atotherher keen resentment. She therefore, when theweather was fair, passed much of her time in the garden and adjoining walks, wishing to be as much out of her aunt’s company as possible.One day John came there early in the morning, and Melissa’s aunt went home with him. The day passed away, but she did not return. Melissa sat up until a latehour of the night, expecting her; shethenwent to the gate, and found it was fast locked, returned, locked and bolted the doors of the house, went to bed and slept as soundly as she had done since her residence in the old mansion. “I have at least, she said, escaped the disgusting curtain-lecture about marrying Beauman.”The next day her aunt returned. “I was quite concerned about you, child, said she; how did you sleep?” “Never better, she answered, since I have been here.” “I had forgotten, said her aunt, that my rentsbecomedue this week. I was detained until late by some of my tenants; John was out, and I dare not return in the night alone. I must go back to-day. It will take me a week to settle my business. If I am obliged to stay out again I will send one of John’s daughters to sleep with you.”——“You need not give yourself that trouble, replied Melissa; I am under no apprehension of staying here alone; nothing can getinto or out of these premises.”——“Well, thou hast wonderful courage, child, said her aunt; but I shall be as frequently here as possible, and as soon as my business is settled, I shall be absent no more.” So saying, she bade Melissa good morning, and set off for her residence at the dwelling of John.She did not return in two days. The second night of her absence, Melissa was sitting in her chamber reading, when she heard a noiseasof several people trampling in the yard below. She arose, cautiously raised the window, and looked out. It was extremely dark;she could discern nothing. All was still andshe thought she might have beendiscovered.Her aunt came the next day, and told her she was obliged to go into the country to collect some debts of those to whom she had rentedsomelands: she should be gone a few days, and as soon as she returned should come there. “The keys of the house, said she, I shall leave with you. The gate I shall lock, and leavethatkey with John, who will come here as often as necessary, to assist you, and see if you want any thing.” She then went off, leaving Melissa not dissatisfied with the prospect of her absence.Melissa amused herself in evenings by reading in the few books her aunt had brought there, and in the daytime, in walking around the yard and garden, or in traversingthe rooms of the antique building. In some, were the remains of ancient furniture, others were entirely empty. Cobwebs and mouldering walls were the principal ornaments left.One evening as she was about retiring to rest, she thought she heard the same trampling noise in the yard, as on a former occasion. She stepped softly to the window, suddenly raised it, and held out the candle.She fancied she saw the glimpse of two or three dark forms pass swiftly along, but so indistinctly that it was impossible to determine whether they were real, or only shadows produced by objects intervening the light of the candle.She listened and gazed with anxious solicitude, but discovered nothing more. All wassilent; she shut the window, and in a short time went to bed.Some time in the night she was suddenly awakened by a sharp sound, apparently near her. She started in a trembling panic, but endeavoured to compose herself with the idea, that something had fallen from the shelves. As she lay musing upon the incident, she heardloudnoises in the rooms below, succeeded by an irregular and confused number of voices, and presently after, footsteps ascending the stairs which led to her chamber. She trembled; a cold chilly sweatrundown her face. Directly the doors below opened and shut with a quick and violent motion. And soon after she was convinced that she distinctly heard a whispering in her room. She raised herself up in the bed and cast inquisitive eyestowards her chamber door. All was darkness—no new object was visible—no sound was heard, and she again lay down.Her mind was too much agitated and alarmed to sleep. She had evidently heard sounds, footsteps and voices in the house, and whisperings which appeared to be in her room. The yard gate was locked, of which John had the key. She was confident that no person could ascend or get over the wall of the enclosure. But if that were practicable, how was it possible that any human being could enter the house? She had the key of every door, and they were all fast locked, and yet she had heard them furiously open and shut. A thought darted into her mind,—was it not a plan which her aunt had contrived in order to frighten hertoa compliance with her wishes? But then how could she enter the house without keys? This might be done with the use of a false key. But from whence did the whisperings proceed, which appeared close to her bedside? Possibly it might be conveyed through the key-hole of her chamber door. These thoughts tended in some degree, to allay her fears;—they were possibilities, at least, however improbable.As she lay thus musing, a hand, cold as the icy fingers of death, grasped her arm,which layon theoutside of the bed clothes. She screamed convulsively, and sprang up in the bed. Nothing was to be seen—no noise was heard. She had not time to reflect. She flew out ofthebed, ran to the fire, and lighted a candle. Her heart beat rapidly. She cast timid glances around the room, cautiously searching every corner, and examining the door. All things were in the same state she had left them when she went to bed. Her door was locked in the same manner; no visible being was in the room except herself. She sat down, pondering on these strange events.Was it notprobablethat she was right in her first conjectures respecting their being the works of her aunt, and effected by her agents and instrumentality? All were possible, except the cold hand which had grasped her arm. Might not this be the effect of a terrified and heated imagination?Or if false keys had been made use of to enter the rooms below, might they not also be used to enter her chamber?But could her room be unlocked,personsenter, approach her bed, depart and re-lock the door, while she was awake, without her hearing them?She knew she could notgo tosleep, and she determined not to go to bed again that night. She took up a book, but her spirits had been too much disordered by the pastscenes to permit her to read. She looked out of the window. The moon had arisen and cast a pale, imperfectlustre over the landscape. She recollected the opening and shutting of the door—perhaps they were stillopen.The thought was alarming—She opened her chamber door, and with the candle in her hand, cautiously descended the stairs, casting an inquisitive eye in every direction, and stopping frequently to listen.—She advanced to the door; it was locked. She examined the others; they wereallin the same situation. She turned to go up stairs, when a loud whisper echoed through the hall expressing “away! away!” She flew like lightning to her chamber, relocked the door and flung herself, almost breathless, into a chair.As soon as her scattered senseswerecollected, she concluded thatwhateverhad been in the housewasthere still. She resolved to go out no more until day, which soon began to discolour the east with a fainter blue, then purple streaks, intermingled with a dusky whiteness, ascended inpyramidicalcolumnsto thezenith; these fading slowly away, the eastern horizon became fringed with the golden spangles of early morn. Asmallspot of ineffable brightness succeeded, and immediately the sun burst over the vergeof creation, deluging the world in a flood of unbounded light and glory.As soon as the morning had a little advanced, Melissa ventured out. She proceeded with hesitating steps, carefully scrutinizing every object which met her sight. She examined every door; they were all fast. She critically searched every room, closet, &c. above and below. She then took a light and descended into the cellar—here her inquisition was the same. Thus did she thoroughly and strictly examine and search every part of the house from the garret to the cellar, but could find nothing altered, changed, or removed; no outlet, no signs of there having been any being in the house the evening before, except herself.She then unlocked the outer door and proceeded to the gate, which she found locked as usual. She next examined the yard, the garden, and all the out houses.Nothing could be discovered of any person having been recently there. She next walked around by the wall, the whole circle of the enclosure. She was convinced that the unusual height of the wall rendered it impossible for any one to get over it. It was constructed of several tier of hewed timbers, and both sides of it wereassmooth as glass. On the top, long spikes were thickly driven in, sharpened at both ends.It was surrounded on the outside by a deep wide moat, which was nearly filled with water. Over this moat was a draw-bridge, on the road leading to the gate, which was drawn up, and John had the key.The events of thepastnight, therefore, remained inscrutable. It must be that her aunt was the agent who had managed this extraordinary machinery.She found John at the house when she returned. “Does madam want any thing to-day?” asked he. “Has my aunt returned?” enquired Melissa. “Not yet,” he replied. “How long has she been gone?” she asked. “Four days, replied John, after counting his fingers, and she will not be back under four or five more.” “Has the key of the gate been constantly in your possession?” asked she. “Thekeyof the gate and draw-bridge, he replied, have not been out of my possession for a moment since your aunt has been gone.” “Has any person been to enquire for me or my aunt, she enquired, since I have been here?”—“No, madam, said he, not a single person.” Melissa knew not what to think; she could not give up the idea of false keys—perhaps her aunt had returned to her father’s.—Perhaps the draw-bridge had been let down, the gate opened, and the house enteredby means of false keys. Her father would assoon do this astoconfine her in this solitary place; and he would go all lengths to induce her, either by terror, persuasion or threats, to relinquish Alonzo and marry Beauman.A thought impressed her mind which gave her some consolation. It was possible to secure the premises so that nopersoncould enter even by the aid of false keys. She asked John if he would assist her that day. “In anything you wish, madam,” he replied. She then directed him to go to work. Staples and iron bars were found in different parts of the building, with which he secured the doors and windows, so that they could be opened only on the inside. The gate, which swung in, was secured in the same manner. She then asked John if he was willing to leave thekeyof the gate andthedraw-bridge with her. “Perhaps I may as well,” said he; “for if you bar the gate and let down the bridge, I cannot get in myself until you let me in.” John handed her the keys. “When I come,” said he, “I will halloo, and you must let me in.” This she promised to do, and John departed.**Of the place where Melissa was confined, as described in the foregoing pages, scarce a trace now remains. By the events of the revolution, the premises fell into other hands. The mansion, out houses and walls were torn down, the cemetery levelled, the moat filled up; the locusts and elm trees were cut down; all obstructions were removed, and the yard and garden converted into a beautiful meadow. An elegant farm-house is now erected on the place where John’s hut then stood and the neighbourhood is thinly settled.That night Melissa let down the bridge,locked and barred the gate, and the doors and windows of the house: she also went again over all parts of the building, strictly searching every place, though she was well convinced she should find nothing extraordinary. She then retired to her chamber, seated herself atawestern window, and watched the slow declining sun, as it leisurely sunk behind the lofty groves. Pensive twilight spread her misty mantle over the landscape; the western horizon glowed with the spangles of evening. Deepening glooms advanced. The last beam of day faded from the view, and the world was enveloped in night. The owl hooted solemnly in the forest, and the whippoorwill sung cheerfully in the garden.Innumerablestars glittered in the firmament, intermingling their quivering lustre with the pale splendours of themilky way.Melissa did not retire from the window until late; she then shut it and withdrew within the room. She determined not to go to bed that night. If she was to be visited by beings, material or immaterial, she chose not again to encounter them in darkness, or to be surprised when she wasasleep. But why should she fear?She knew of no one she had injured.She knew of none she had displeased except her father, her aunt and Beauman. If by any ofthosethe late terrifying scenes had been wrought, she had now effectually precluded a recurrence thereof, for she was well convinced that no human being could now enter the enclosure without her permission. But if supernatural agents had been the actors, what had she to fear from them? The night passed away without any alarming circumstances, and when daylight appeared she flung herself upon the bed, and slept untilthemorning was considerably advanced. She now felt convinced that her former conjectures were right; that it was her aunt, her father, or both, who had caused the alarming sounds she had heard, a repetition of which had only been prevented by the precautions she had taken.When she awoke, the horizon was overclouded, and itbeganto rain. It continued to rain until towards evening, when it cleared away. She went to the gate, and found all things as she had left them: She returned, fastened the doors as usual, examined all parts of the house, and again wentto her chamber.She sat up until a late hour, when growing very drowsy, and convinced that she was safe and secure, shewentto bed; leaving,however,twocandles burning in the room. As she, for two nights, had been deprived of herusualrest, she soon fell into a slumber.She had not long been asleep before she was suddenly aroused by the apparent report of a pistol, seemingly discharged close to her head. Awakened so instantaneously, her recollection, for a time, was confused and imperfect. She was only sensible of a strong, sulphureous scent: but she soon remembered that she had left two candles burning, and every object was now shrouded in darkness. This alarmed her exceedingly. What could have become of the candles? They must have been blown out or taken away. What was the sound she had just heard?——What the sulphureous stench which had pervaded the room?——While she was thus musing in perplexity, a broad flash likethat oflightning, transiently illuminatedthechamber, followed by a long, loud, and deep roar, which seemed to shake the building to its centre. It did not appear like thunder; thesoundsseemed to be in theroomsdirectly over her head. Perhaps, however, it was thunder.Perhaps a preceding clap had struck near the building, broken the windows, put out the lights, and filled the house withtheelectric effluvium. She listened for a repetitionof the thunder—but a very different soundsoongrated on her ear. A hollow, horrible groan echoed through her apartment, passing off in a faint dying murmur. It was evident that the groan proceeded from some person in the chamber. Melissa raised herself up inthebed; a tall white form moved from the upper end of the room, glided slowly by her bed, and seemed to pass off near the foot. She then heard the doors below alternately open and shut,slappingfuriously, and in quick succession, followed by violent noises in the rooms below, like the falling of heavy bodies and the crash of furniture. Clamorous voices succeeded, among which she could distinguish boisterous menaces and threatenings, and the plaintivetoneof expostulation.—A momentary silence ensued, when the cry of “Murder! murder! murder!!” echoed through the building, followed by the report of a pistol, and shortly after, the groans of a person apparently in the agonies of death, which grew fainter and fainter until it died away in a seemingly expiring gasp. A dead silence prevailed for a few minutes, to which a loud hoarse peal of ghastly laughter succeeded—then again all was still. But she soon heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs to her chamber door. It was now she became terrified andalarmed beyond any former example.——“Gracious heaven, defend me! she exclaimed; what am I coming to!” Knowing that every avenue to the enclosure was effectually secured; knowing that all the doors and windows of the house, as also that which opened into her chamber, were fast locked, strictly bolted and barred; and knowing that all the keys were in her possession, she could not entertain the least doubt but the noises she had heard were produced by supernatural beings, and, she had reason to believe, of the most mischievous nature. She was now convinced that her father or her aunt could have no agency in the business. She even wished her aunt had returned. It must be exceedingly difficult to cross the moat, as the draw bridge was up; it must be still more difficult tosurpassthe wall of the enclosure; it was impossible for any human being to enter the house, and still more impossible to enterherchamber.
“Let us not despair, answered Alonzo; perhapsthosegloomy clouds which now hover around us, will yet be dissipated by the bright beams of joy. Innocence and virtue are the cares of Heaven. There lies my hope. To-morrow, as you propose, I will call atyourfather’s.”
Melissa now prepared to return home; a whippoorwill tuned its nightly song at a little distance; but the sound,lateso cheerful and sprightly, now passed heavily over their hearts.
When Alonzo returned, Vincent unfolded the plan he had projected. “No sooner, said he, was I informed of your misfortunes, than I was convinced that Melissa’s father would endeavour to dissolve your intended union with his daughter. I have known him many years, and however he may dote on his children, or value their happiness, he will not hesitate to sacrifice his other feelings to the acquirement of riches. It appeared that you had but one resource left. You and Melissa are now united by the most solemn ties—by every rite except those which are merely ceremonial. These Iwould advise you to enter into, and trust to the consequences. Mrs. Vincent has proposedthescheme to Melissa; but implicitly accustomed to filial obedience, she shudders at the idea of a clandestine marriage. But when her father shall proceed to rigorous measures, she will, I think, consent to the alternative. And this measure, once adopted, her father must consent also; or, if not, you secure your own happiness, and, what you esteem more, that of Melissa.”
“But you must be sensible of my inability to support her as she deserves, replied Alonzo, even should she consent to it.”
“Theworld is before you, answered Vincent; you have friends, you have acquirements which will not fail you. In a country like this, you can hardly fail of obtaining a competency, which, with the other requisites, will ensure your independence and felicity.”
Alonzo informed Vincent what had been agreed upon between Melissa and himself, respecting his visiting her on the morrow; “after which, he said, we will discourse further on the subject.”
The next day Alonzo repaired to the house of Melissa’s father. As he approached he saw Melissa sitting in a shady recess at one end of the garden near which the road passed. She was leaning with herhead upon her hand, in a pensive posture; a deep dejection was depicteduponher features, which enlivened into a transient glow as soon as she saw Alonzo. She arose, met him, and invited him into the house.
Alonzo was received with acoolreserve by all except Melissa. Her father saluted him with a distant and retiring bow, as he passed with Melissa to her room. As soon as they were seated, a maiden aunt, who had doubled her teens, outlived many of her suiters, and who had lately come to reside with the family, entered, and seated herself by the window, alternately humming atune,and impudently staring at Alonzo, without speaking a word, except snappishly, to contradict Melissa in any thing she advanced, which the latter passed off with only a faint smile.
This interruption was not of long continuance. Melissa’s fathersoonentered, and requested the two ladies to withdraw, which was instantly done. He then addressed Alonzo as follows:——“When I gave consent for you to marry my daughter, it was on the conviction that your future resources would be adequate to support her honourably and independently. Circumstances have since taken place, which render this point extremely doubtful. Parental duty and affectiondemandthat I should know your means and prospects before I sanctiona proceeding which may reduce my child to penury andtowant.”
He paused for a reply, but Alonzo was silent. He continued—“You yourself must acknowledge, that to burthen yourself with the expense of a family; to transfer a woman from affluence to poverty, without even an object in view to provide for either, would be the height of folly and extravagance.” Again he paused, but Alonzo was still silent. He proceeded—“Could you, Alonzo, suffer life, when you see the wife of your bosom, probably your infant children, pining in misery for want of bread? And what else have you to expect if you marry in your present situation?I know you have talents and have had an education. But what are they without means?You have friends and well wishers; but which of them will advance you four or five thousand pounds, as a gratuity? My daughter must be supported according to her rank and standing in life. Are you enabled to do this? If not, you cannot reasonably suppose that I shall consent to your marrying her. You may say that your acquirements, your prudence, and your industry, will procure you a handsome support. Thiswell maydo in single life; but to depend on these for the future exigencies of a family, is hazarding peace, honour and reputation, at a single game of chance. If, therefore, you have no resources orexpectationbut such as these, your own judgment will teach you the necessity of immediately relinquishing all pretensions to the handof Melissa”—andimmediately left the room.
Why was Alonzo speechless through the whole of this discourse?—What reply could he have made? What were the prospects before him but penury, want, misery, and woe! Where, indeed, were the means by which Melissa was to be shielded from poverty, if connected with his fortunes. The idea was not new, but itcameupon him with redoubled anguish. He arose and looked around for Melissa, but she was not to be seen. He left the house, and walked slowly towards Vincent’s. At a little distance he met Melissa, who had been strolling in an adjoining avenue. He informed her of all that had passed; it was no more than they both expected, yet it was a shock their fortitude could scarcelysustain. Disappointment seldom findshervotaries prepared to receive her.
Melissa told Alonzo, that her father’s determinations were unchangeable; that his sister (the before mentioned maiden lady) held a considerable influence over him, and dictated the concerns of the family; and that from her, there was nothing to hope in their favour. Her mother, she said, was her friend, but could notcontradictthewill of her father. Her brother would be at home in a few days; how he would act on this occasion she was unable to say: but were he even their friend he would have but feeble influence with her father and aunt. “What is to be the end of these troubles, continued Melissa, it is impossible to foresee. Let us trust in the mercy of heaven and submit to its dispensations.”
Alonzo and Melissa, in their happier days, had, when absent, corresponded by letters. This method it was now thought best to relinquish. It was agreed that Alonzo should come frequently to Vincent’s, where Melissa would meet him as she could find opportunities. Having concluded on this, Melissa returned home, and Alonzo to the house of his friend.
Vincent, after Alonzo had relatedthe manner ofhis reception at Melissa’s father’s, urged the plan he had projected of a private marriage. Alonzo replied, that even should Melissa consent to it, which he much doubted, it must be a measure of the last resort, and adopted only when all others became fruitless.
The next morning Alonzo returned to the hut where his aged parents now dwelt. His bosom throbbed with keen anguish. His own fate, unconnected with that of Melissa, he considered of little consequence. Buttheir united situation tortured his soul.—Whatwas to become of Melissa, what of himself, what of his parents!—“Alas, said Alonzo, I now perceive what it is to want the good things of this life.”
Alonzo’s father was absent when he arrived, but returned soon after. A beam of joy gleamed upon his withered countenance as he entered the house. “Were it not, Alonzo, for your unhappy situation, said he, we should once more be restored to peace and comfort. A few persons who were indebted to me, finding that I was to be sacrificed by my unfeeling creditors, reserved those debts in their hands, and have now paid me, amounting to something more than five hundred pounds. Withpart ofthis I have purchased a small, but well cultivated farm, with convenient tenements. I have enough left to purchase what stock and other materials I need; and to spare some for your present exigencies, Alonzo.”
Alonzo thanked his father for his kindness, but told himthatfrom his former liberality he had yet sufficient for his wants, and that he should soon find business which would amply support him. “But your affair with Melissa, asked his father, how isthatlikely to terminate?” “Favourably, I hope, sir,” answered Alonzo. He could notconsent to disturb the tranquillity of his parents by reciting his own wretchedness.
A week passed away. Alonzo saw his parents removed to their little farm, which was to be managed by his father and a hired man. He saw them comfortably seated; he saw them serenely blest in the calm pleasures of returning peace, and a ray of joyilluminatedhis troubled bosom.
“Again the youth his wonted life regain’d,A transient sparkle in his eye obtain’d,A bright, impassion’d cheering glow, express’dThe pleas’d sensation of his tender breast:But soon dark glooms the feeble smiles o’erspread;Like morn’sgayhues, the fading splendours fled;Returning anguish froze his feeling soul,Deep sighs burst forth, and tears began to roll.”
“Again the youth his wonted life regain’d,
A transient sparkle in his eye obtain’d,
A bright, impassion’d cheering glow, express’d
The pleas’d sensation of his tender breast:
But soon dark glooms the feeble smiles o’erspread;
Like morn’sgayhues, the fading splendours fled;
Returning anguish froze his feeling soul,
Deep sighs burst forth, and tears began to roll.”
He thoughtofMelissa, from whom he had heard nothing since he last saw her.—He thoughtofthe difficulties which surrounded him. He thoughtofthe barriers which were opposed to his happiness and the felicity of Melissa, and he set out for the house of Vincent.
Alonzo arrived at the residence of Vincent near the close oftheday. Vincent and his lady were at tea with several young ladies who had passed the afternoon with Mrs. Vincent. Alonzo cast an active glance around the company, in hopes to find Melissa, but she was not there. He was invited and accepted a seat at table. After tea Vincent led him into an adjoiningroom. “You have come in good time, said he. Something must speedily be done, or you lose Melissa forever. The day after youwerehere, her father received a letter from Beauman, in which, after mentioning the circumstance of your father’s insolvency, he hinted that the consequence would probably be a failure of her proposed marriage with you, which might essentially injure the reputation of a lady of her standing in life; to prevent which, and to place her beyond the reach of calumny, he offered to marry her at any appointed day, provided he had her free consent.
“As Beauman, by the recent death of his father, had been put in possession of a splendid fortune, the proposition allured her father, who wrote him a complaisant answer, with an invitation to his house.—He then strove to extort a promise from Melissa, that she would break off all connexion with you, see you no more, and admit the addresses of Beauman.
“To this she could not consent. She urged, that by the consent of her parents she was engaged to you by the most sacred ties. That to her father’s will she had hitherto yielded implicit obedience, but that hastily to break the most solemn obligation, formed and sanctioned by his approbation and direction, was what her conscience would notpermit her to do. Were he to command her to live single, life might be endured; but to give her hand to any except you, would be to perjure those principles of truth and justice which he himself had ever taught her to hold most inviolable.—Her father grew outrageous; charged her with disobedience, with a blind inconsiderate perverseness, by which she would bring ruin upon herself, and indelible disgrace upon her family. She answered only with her tears. Her mother interposed, and endeavoured to appease his anger; but he spurned her from him, and rushed out of the room, uttering a threat that force should succeed persuasion, if his commands were not obeyed. To add to Melissa’s distress, Beauman arrived at her father’s yesterday; and I hope, in some measure to alleviate it. Edgar, her brother,camethis morning.—Mrs. Vincent has dispatched a message to inform Melissa of your arrival, and to desire her to come here immediately. She will undoubtedly comply with the invitation, if not prevented by something extraordinary. I should have written you had I not hourly expected you.”
Mrs. Vincent nowcameto the door of the room and beckoned to her husband, who went out, but immediately returned, leading in Melissa after which he retired.“Oh, Alonzo!” was all she could say, and burst into tears. Alonzo led her to a seat, gently pressed her hand, and mingled his tears with hers, but was unable to speak.—Recovering at length, he begged her to moderate her grief. “Where, said he,is your fortitude andyourfirmness,said he,Melissa, which I have so often seen triumphing over affliction?” Her extreme anguish prevented a reply. Deeply affected and alarmed at the storm of distress which raged in her bosom, he endeavoured to console her, though consolation was a stranger to his own breast. “Let us not, Melissa, said he, increase our flood of affliction by a tide of useless sorrow. Perhaps more prosperous days are yet in reserve for us;—happiness may yet be ours.” “Never, never! she exclaimed. Oh, what will become of me!” “Heaven cannot desert you, said Alonzo; as well might it desert its angels. This thorny and gloomy path may lead to fair fields of light and verdure. Tempests are succeeded by calms;wars endin peace; the splendours of the brightest morning arise on the wings oftheblackest midnight.——Troubles will not always last. Life at most is short. Death comes to the relief of the virtuous wretched, and transports them to another andabetter world, where sighing and sorrows cease,and the tempestuous passions of life are known no more.”
The rage of grief which had overwhelmed Melissa began now to subside, as the waves of the ocean gradually cease their tumultuous commotion, after the turbulent winds are laid asleep. Deep sobs and long drawn sighs succeeded to a suffocation of tears. The irritation of her feelings had caused a more than usual glow upon her cheek, which faded away as she became composed, until a livid paleness spread itself over her features. Alonzo feared that the delicacy of her constitution would fall a sacrifice to the sorrow which preyed upon her heart, if not speedily alleviated;—butalas! wherewere the means of alleviation?
She informed him that her father had that evening ordered her toprepare tobecome the wife of Beauman. He told her that her disobedience was no longer to be borne.—“No longer, said he, will I tamper with your perverseness: you are determined to be poor, wretched and contemptible. I will compel you to be rich, happy, and respected. You suffer theJack-a-lanternfancy to lead you into swamps and quagmires, when, did you but follow the fair light of reason, it would conduct you to honour and real felicity. There are happiness and misery at your choice.
“Marry Beauman, and youwillroll in your coach, flaunt in your silks; your furniture and yourequipageare splendid, your associates are of the first character, and your father rejoices in your prosperity.
“Marry Alonzo, you sink into obscurity, are condemned to drudgery, poorly fed, worse clothed, and your relations and acquaintances shun and despise you. The comparison I have here drawn between Beauman and Alonzo is a correct one; for even the wardrobe of the former is of more value than the whole fortune of the latter.
“I give you now two days to considerofthe matter; at the end of that time I shall expect your decision, and hope you will decidediscretely. But remember that you become the wife of Beauman, or you are no longer acknowledged as my daughter.”
“Thus, said Melissa, did my father pronounce his determination, which shook my frame, and chilled with horror every nerve of my heart, and immediately left me.
“My aunt added her taunts to his severities, and Beauman interfered with his ill-timed consolation. My mother andEdgarardently strove to allay the fever of my soul, and mitigate my distress. But the stroke was almost too severe for my nature. Habituated only to the smiles of my father, how could I support his frowns?—Accustomedto receive his blessings alone, how could I endure his sudden malediction.”
Description would fail in painting the sensations of Alonzo’s bosom, at this recital of woe. But he endeavoured to mitigate her sorrows by the consolation of more cheering prospects and happier hours.
Vincent and his lady now came into the room. They strenuously urged the propriety and the necessity of Alonzo and Melissa’s entering into the bands of wedlock immediately. “The measure would be hazardous,” remarked Melissa. “My circumstances”—said Alonzo. “Not on that account, interrupted Melissa, but my father’s displeasure——” “Will be the same, whether you marry Alonzo, or refuse to marry Beauman,” replied Vincent. Her resolution appeared to be staggered.
“Come here, Melissa, to-morrow evening, said Mrs. Vincent; mean time you will consider the matter, and then determine.” To this Melissa assented, and prepared to return home.
Alonzo walked with her to the gate which opened into the yard surrounding her father’s house. It was dangerous for him to go farther. Should he be discovered with Melissa, even by a domestic of the family, it must increase the persecutions against her. They parted. Alonzo stood at the gate,gazing anxiously after Melissa as she walked up the long winding avenue, bordered with theodour-flowinglilac, and lofty elm, her white robes now invisible, now dimly seen as she turned the angles of the walk, until they were totally obscured, mingling with the gloom and darkness of the night. “Thus, said Alonzo, thus fades the angel of peace from the visionary eyes of the war-worn soldier, when it ascends in the dusky clouds of early morning, while he slumbers on the field of recent battle.”—With mournful forebodings he returned to the house of Vincent. He arose after a sleeplessnightand walked into an adjoining field. He stood leaning in deep contemplation against a tree, when he heard quick footsteps behind him. He turnedround, and saw Edgar approaching: in a moment they were in each other’s arms, andmingledtears. They returned to Vincent’s and conversed largely on present affairs. “I have discoursed with my father on the subject, said Edgar. I have urged him with every possible argument to relinquish his determination: I fear, however, he is inflexible.
“To assuage the tempest of grief which rent Melissa’s bosom was my next object, and in this I trust I have not been unsuccessful. You will see her this evening, and will find her more calm and resigned. You,Alonzo, musteverexert your fortitude. The ways of Heaven are inscrutable, but they are right.
“We must acquiesce in its dealings. We cannot alter its decrees. Resignation to its will, whether merciful or afflictive, is one of those eminent virtues which adorn the good man’s character, andwhichever find a brilliant reward in the regions of unsullied splendour, far beyond trouble and the tomb.”
Edgar told Alonzo that circumstances compelled him that day to depart for the army.“Iwould advise you, said he, to remain here until your affair comes to some final issue. It must, I think, ere long, beterminated. Perhaps you and my sister may yet be happy.”
Alonzo feelingly expressed his gratitude to Edgar. He found in him that disinterested friendship, which his early youth had experienced. Edgar the same day departed for the army.
In the afternoon Alonzo received a note from Melissa’s father, requesting his immediate attendance. Surprised at the incident, he repaired there immediately. The servant introduced him into a room where Melissa’s father and aunt were sitting.——“Hearing you were in the neighbourhood, said her father, I have sent for you, to make a proposition, which after what has takenplace, I think you cannot hesitate to comply with. The occurrence of previous circumstances may lead you to suppose that my daughter is under obligations to you, which may render it improper for her to form marriage connections with any other. Whatever embarrassments your addresses to her may have produced, it is in your power to remove them; and if you are a man of honour you will remove them. You cannot wish to involve Melissa in your present penurious condition, unless you wish to make her wretched. It therefore only remains for you to give me a writing, voluntarily resigning all pretensions to the hand of my daughter; and if you wish her to be happy, honourable, and respected in this life, this I say you will not hesitate to do.”
A considerable pause ensued. Alonzo at length replied, “I cannot perceive any particular advantage that can accrue from such a measure. It will neither add nor diminish the power you possess to command obedience to your will, if you are determined to command it, either from your daughter, or your servant.”——
“There, brother,” bawled the old maid, halfsqueakingthrough her nose, which was well charged with rappee, “did’nt I tell you so? I knew the fellow wouldnot come toterms no more than will your refractorydaughter. This love fairly bewitches such foolish, crack-brained youngsters. But say Mr.——, what’s your name, addressing herself to Alonzo, will love heat the oven? will love boil the pot? will love clothe the back? will love——”
“You will not, interrupted Melissa’s father, speaking to Alonzo, it seems, consent to my proposition? I have then, one demand to make, which of right you cannot deny. Promise me that you will never see my daughter again, unless by my permission.”
“At the present moment I shall promise you nothing,” replied Alonzo, with some warmth.
“There again, said the old maid, just so Melissa told you this morning, when you requested her to see him no more. The fellow has fairly betwattled her.I wish I had him to deal with. Things wasn’t so when I was a girl; I kept the rogues at a distance, I’ll warrant you. I always told you, brother, what would come of your indulgence to your daughter.AndI should not wonder if you should soon findthatthe girl had eloped, and your desk robbedinthe bargain.”
Alonzo hastily arose: “I suppose, said he, my presence can be dispensed with.”
“Well, young man, said Melissa’s father,since you will not comply with any overtures I make; since you will not accede to any terms I propose, remember, sir, I now warn you to break off all communication and correspondence with my daughter, and to relinquish all expectations concerning her. I shall never consent to marry my daughter to a beggar.”
“Beggar!” involuntarily exclaimed Alonzo, and his eyesflashed inresentment.—But he recollected that it was the father of Melissa who had thus insulted him, and he suppressed his anger. He rushed out of the house, and returned to Vincent’s. He had neither heard nor seen any thing of Melissa or Beauman.
Night came on, and he ardently and impatiently expected Melissa. He anticipated the consolation her presence would bestow. Edgar had told him she was more composed. He doubted whether it were proper to excite anew her distress by relating his interview with her father, unless she wasalreadyappraisedof it. The evening passed on, but Melissa came not. Alonzo grew restless and uneasy. He looked out, then at his watch. Vincent and his lady assured himthatshe would soon be there. He pacedtheroom. Still he became more impatient. He walked out on the waywhereshe was expected to come. Sometimes headvanced hastily; at others he moved slowly; then stood motionless, listening in breathless silence, momentarily expecting to discover her white form approaching through the gloom, or to hear the sound of her footsteps advancing amidst the darkness. Shapeless objects, either real or imaginary, frequently crossed his sight, but, like the unreal phantoms of night, they suddenly passed away, and were seen no more. At length he perceived a dusky white form advancing in the distant dim obscurity. It drew near; his heart beat in quick succession; his fond hopes told him it was Melissa. The object came up, and hastily passed him, with a “good night, sir.”
It was a stranger in a white surtout. Alonzo hesitated whether to advance or to return. It was possible, though not probable, that Melissa might have come some other way. He hastened back to Vincent’s—she had not arrived. “Something extraordinary, said Mrs. Vincent, has prevented her coming. Perhaps she is ill.”—Alonzo shuddered at the suggestion. He looked at his watch; it was half past eleven o’clock. Again he hastily sallied out, and took the road to her father’s.
The night was exceedingly dark, and illuminated only by the feebleglimmeringof the twinkling stars. When he came withinsight of the house, and as he drew near no lights were visible—all was still and silent. He entered the yard, walked up the avenue, and approached the door. The familiar watch-dog, which lay near the threshold, fawned upon him, joyfully whining and wagging his tail. “Thou still knowest me,Curlow, said Alonzo; thou hast known me in better days; I am now poor and wretched, but thy friendship is the same.” A solemn stillness prevailed all around, interrupted only by the discordance of the nightly insects, and the hooting of the moping owl from the neighbouring forest.—The dwelling was shrouded in darkness. In Melissa’s room no gleam of light appeared. “They are all buried in sleep, said Alonzo, deeply sighing, and I have only to return in disappointment.”
He turned and walked towards the street; casting his eyes back, the blaze of a candle caught his sight. It passed rapidly along through the lower rooms, now gleaming, now intercepted, as the walls or the windows intervened, and suddenly disappeared. Alonzo gazed earnestly a few moments, and hastily returned back. No noise was to be heard, no new objects were discernible.—He clambered over the garden wall, and went around to the back side of the house. Here allwassolemn, darkand silent as in front.Immediately a faint light appeared through one of the chamber windows; it grew brighter; a candle entered the chamber; the sash was flung up, and Melissa seated herself at the window.
The weather was sultry, she held a fan in her hand; her countenance, though stamped with deep dejection, was marked with serenity, but pale as the drooping lily of the valley. Alonzo placed himself directly under the window, and in a low voice called her by name. She started wildly, looked out, and faintly cried, “Who’s there?” He answered, “Alonzo.” “Good heavens, she exclaimed, is it you, Alonzo? I was disappointed in meeting you at Vincent’s this evening; my father will not suffer me to go out without attendants. I am now constantly watched and guarded.”
“Watched and guarded! replied Alonzo: At the risque of my life I will deliver you from the tyranny with which you are oppressed.”
“Be calm, Alonzo, said she, I think it will notlast long. Beauman will soon depart, after which there will undoubtedly be some alteration. Desire Mrs. Vincent to come here to-morrow; I believe they willlet mesee her. I can, from time to time, inform you of passing events, so that you may know what changes take place. I amplaced under the care of my aunt, who suffers me not to step out of her sight. We pass the night in an adjoining chamber—from whence, after she had fallen asleep, I stole out, and went down with a design of walking in the garden, but found the doors all locked and the keys taken out. I returned and raisedthiswindow for fresh air. Hark! said she; my aunt calls me. She has waked and misses me. I must fly to her chamber. You shall hear more from me to-morrow by Mrs. Vincent, Alonzo.” So saying, she let down the window sash, and retired.
Alonzo withdrew slowly from the place, and repassed the way he came. As he jumped back over the garden wall, he found a man standing at its foot, very near him: after a moment’s scrutiny he perceived it to be Beauman. “What, my chevalier, said he to Alonzo, such an adept in the amorous science already? Hast thou then eluded the watchful eyes of Argus, and the vigilance of the dragon!”
“Unfeeling and impertinentintruder,retorted Alonzo, seizing hold of him; is it not enough that an innocent daughter must endure a merciless parent’s persecuting hand, but must thou add to her misery by thy disgusting interference!”
“Quit thy hold, tarquin, said Beauman.Art thou determined, after storming the fortress, to murder the garrison?”
“Go, said Alonzo, quitting him; go sir, you are unworthy of my anger. Pursue thy grovelling schemes. Strive to force to your arms a lady who abhors you, and were itnot on oneaccount, must ever continue todespise and hateyou.”
“Alonzo, replied Beauman, I perceive thou knowest me not. You and I were rivals in our pursuit—the hand of Melissa. Whether from freak or fortune, the preference was given to you, and I retired in silence. Fromacoincidence ofcircumstances, her father has now been induced to give the preference to me. My belief was, that Melissa would comply with her father’s will, especially after her prospects of connecting with you were cut off by the events which ruined your fortune. You, Alonzo, have yet, I find, to learn the character of women. It has been my particular study. Melissa, now ardently impassioned by first impressions, irritated by recent disappointment, her passions delicate and vivid, her affections animated and unmixed, it would be strange, if she could suddenly relinquish primitive attachments founded on such premises, without a struggle. But remove her from your presenceforone year, with only distant and uncertain prospects of seeingyou again, admit me as the substitute in your absence, and she accepts my hand as freely as she would now receive yours. I had no design—it was never my wish to marry her without her consent. That I believe I shall yet obtain. Under existing circumstances, it is impossible butthatyou must be separated for some considerable time. Then, when cool deliberation succeeds to the wild vagaries, the electric fire of frolic fancy, she will discover the dangerous precipice, the deadly abyss to which her present conduct and inclinations lead. She will see that the blandishments, without thepossessionsof life, must fade and die. She will discriminate between the shreds andthetrappings of taste. She will prefer indifference and splendour to love and a cottage.
“At present I relinquish allfurther persuit; to-morrow I return to New-London. When Melissa, from calm deliberation and the advice of friends, shall freely consent to yield me her hand, I shall return to receive it. I came from my lodgings this evening to declare these intentions to her father: but it being later than I was aware of, the family hadgoneto rest. I was about to return, when I saw a light fromthechamber window, which soon withdrew. I stood a moment by the garden wall, whenyou approached and discovered me.” So saying, he bade Alonzo good night, and walked hastily away. “I find he knows not the character of Melissa,” said Alonzo, and returned to Vincent’s.
The next day Alonzo told the Vincents of all that had passed, and it was agreed that Mrs. Vincent should visit at Melissa’s father’s that afternoon. She went at an early hour. Alonzo’s feelings were on therackuntil she returned, which happened much sooner than was expected; when she gave him and Vincent the following information:
“When I arrived there, said she, I found Melissa’s father and mother alone, her mother was in tears, which she endeavoured to conceal. Her father soon withdrew. After some conversation I enquired for Melissa. The old lady burst into tears, and informed me that this morning Melissa’s aunt(the old maid)had invited her to ride out with her. A carriage was provided, which, after a large trunk had been placed therein, drove off with Melissa and her aunt; that Melissa’s father had just been informing her that he had sent their daughter to adistantpart of the country, where she was to reside with a friend until Alonzo should depart from the neighbourhood. The reason of this sudden resolution was his beinginformed by Beauman, that notwithstanding his precaution, Melissa and Alonzo had an interview the last evening. Where she was sent to, the old lady could not tell, but she was convinced that Melissa was not apprised of the design when she consented to go. Her aunt had heretofore been living with thedifferentrelatives of the family in various parts of the state.”
Alonzo listened to Mrs. Vincent’s relation with inexpressible agitation. He sat silent a few moments; then suddenlystartingup, “I will find her if she be on the earth!” said he, and in spite of Vincent’s attempts to prevent him, rushed out of the house, flew to the road, and was soon out of sight.
Melissa had not, indeed,the most distant suspicion of the designs of her father and aunt. The latter informed her that she was going to take amorning’sride, and invited Melissa to accompany her, to which she consented. She did not even perceive the trunkwhichwas fastened on behind the carriage. They were attended by a single servant. They drove to a neighbouring town, where Melissa had frequently attended her fatherandmother to purchase articles of dress, &c. where they alighted at a friend’s house, and lingered away the time until dinner; after which, they prepared,as Melissa supposed, to return, but found, to her surprise, after they had entered the carriage, that her aunthadordered the driver to proceed a different way. She asked her aunt if they were not going home. “Not yet,” said she. Melissa grew uneasy; she knewthatshe was to see Mrs. Vincent that afternoon; she knew the disappointment which Alonzo must experience, if she was absent. She begged her aunt to return, as she expected the company of some ladies that afternoon. “Then they must be disappointed, child,” said her aunt.—Melissa knew it was in vain to remonstrate; she supposed her aunt was bent on visiting some of her acquaintance, and she remained silent.
They arrived at anothersmallvillage, and alighted at an inn, where Melissa and her aunt tarried, while the servant was ordered out by the latter on some business unknown to Melissa. When they again got into the carriage she perceived several large packages and bundles, which had been deposited there since they left it. She enquired of her aunt what they contained. “Articles for family use, child,” she replied, and ordered the driver to proceed.
They passed along winding and solitary paths, into a bye road which led through an unfrequented wood, that opened into arocky part of the country bordering on the Sound. Here they stopped at the only house in view. It was a miserable hut, built of logs, and boarded with slabs. They alighted from the carriage, and Melissa’s aunt, handingthe driver a large bunch of keys, “remember to do as I have told you,” said she, and he drove rapidly away. It was with some difficulty they got into the hut, as a meagre cow, with a long yoke on her neck, a board before her eyes, and a cross piece on her horns, stood with her head in the door. On one side of her were four or five half starved squeaking pigs, on the other a flock of gaggling geese.
As they entered the door, a woman who sat carding wool jumped up, “La me!she cried, here is Miss D——, welcome here again. How does madam do?” dropping a low curtsey. She was dressed in a linsey woolsey short gown, a petticoat of the same, her hair hanging about her ears, and barefoot. Three dirty, ragged children were playing about the floor, and the furniture was of a piece with the building. “Is my room in order?” enquired Melissa’s aunt. “It hasn’t been touched since madam was here,” answered the woman, and immediately stalked away to a little back apartment, which Melissa and her aunt entered. It was small, but neatly furnished, and containeda single bed. This appendage had been concealed from Melissa’s view, as it was the opposite side of the house fromwhenceshe alighted. “Where is John?” asked Melissa’s aunt. “My husband is in the garden, replied the woman; I will call him,” and out she scampered. John soon appeared, and exhibited an exact counter part of his wife. “What does madam please to want?” said he, bowing three or four times. “I want you John,” she answered, and immediately stepped into the other room, and gave some directions, in a low voice, to him and his wife. “La me! said the woman, madam a’nt a going to live in that doleful place?” Melissa could not understand her aunt’s reply, but heard her give directions to “first hang on the teakettle.” Thiswasdone, while John and his wife went out,andMelissa’s aunt prepared tea in her own room. In about an hour John and his wife returned, and gave the same bunch of keys to Melissa’s aunt, which she had given to the servant who drove the carriage.
Melissa was involved in inscrutable mystery respecting these extraordinary proceedings. She conjectured that they boded her no good, but she could not penetrate into her aunt’sdesigns. She frequently looked out, hoping to see thecarriage return,but was disappointed. When tea was made ready, she could neither eat nor drink. After her aunt had disposed of a dozen cups of tea, and an adequate proportion of biscuit, butter and dried beef, she directed Melissa to prepare to take a walk. The sun was low; they proceeded through fields, in a foot path, over rough and uneven ways, directly towards the Sound. They walked about a mile, when they came to a large, old fashioned, castle-like building, surrounded bya high, thick wall, and almost totally concealed on all sides from the sight, by irregular rows of large locusts and elm trees, dry prim*hedges,*The botanical name of this shrub is not recollected. There were formerly a great number of prim hedges in New-England, and other parts of America. What is most remarkable is, that they all died the year previous to the commencement of the American war.and green shrubbery. The gate which opened into the yard, was made of strong hard wood, thickly crossed on the outside with iron bars, and filled with old iron spikes. Melissa’s aunt unlocked the gate, and they entered the yard, which was overgrown with rank grass and rushes: the avenue which led to the house was almost in the same condition. The house was of real Gothic architecture, built of rude stone, with battlements.
The doors were constructed in the samemanner as the gate at which they entered the yard. They unlocked the door, whichcreakedheavily on its hinges, and went in. They ascended a flight of stairs, wound through several dark and empty rooms, till they came to one which was handsomely furnished, with a fire burning on the hearth. Two beds were in the room, with tablesandchairs, and other conveniences for house keeping. “Here we are safe, said Melissa’s aunt, as I havetakencare to lock all the doors and gates after me; and here, Melissa, you are in the mansion of your ancestors. Your greatgrand father, who came over from England, built this house in the earliestsettlementsof the country, and here he resided until his death. The reason why so high and thick a wall was built round it, and the doors and gates so strongly fortified, was to secure it against the Indians, who frequently committed depredations on the early settlers. Yourgrandfathercameinpossession of this estate after his father’s death: it fell to me by will, with the lands surrounding it. The house has sometimes been tenanted, at others not. It has now been vacant for a few years. The lands are rented yearly. John, the person from whose house we last came, is my overseer and tenant. I had a small room built, adjoining that hut, where I generallyreside for a week when I come to receive my rents. I have thought frequently of fitting up this place for my future residence, but circumstances have hitherto hinderedmy carrying thescheme into effect, and now, perhaps, it will never take place.
“Yourperverseness, Melissa, in refusing to comply with the wishes of your friends, has induced us to adoptthemethod of bringing you here, where you are to remain until Alonzo leaves your neighbourhood, at least. Notwithstanding your father’s injunctions and my vigilance, you had a clandestine interview with him last night. So we were told by Beauman this morning, before he set off for New-London, who discovered him at your window. It therefore became necessary to remove you immediately. You will want for nothing. John is to supply us with whatever is needful.—You will not be long here; Alonzo will soon be gone. You will think differently; return home, marry Beauman, and become a lady.”
“My God! exclaimed Melissa, is it possible my father can be so cruel! Is he so unfeeling as to banish me from his house, and confine me within the walls of a prison, like a common malefactor?” She flung herself on the bed in a state little inferior to distraction. Her aunt told her it wasall owing to her own obstinacy, and because she refused to be made happy—and went to preparing supper.
Melissa heard none of her aunt’s observations; she lay in a stupifying agony, insensible to all that passed. When supper was ready, her aunt endeavoured to arouse her. She started up, stared around her with a wildandagonizing countenance, but spoke not a word. Her aunt became alarmed. She applied stimulants to her temples and forehead, and persuaded her to take some cordials. She remained seemingly insensiblethroughthe night: just at morning, she fell into a slumber, interrupted by incoherent moanings, convulsive startings, longdrawnsighs, intermitting sobs, and by frequent, sudden and restless turnings from side to side. At length she appeared to be in a calm and quiet sleep for about an hour. About sunrise she awoke—her auntsatby her bed side. She gazed languidly about the room, and burst into tears. She wept a long time; her aunt strove to console her, for she truly began to tremble, lest Melissa’s distress should produce her immediate dissolution. Towards night, however, she became more calm and resigned; but a slight fever succeeded, which kept her confined for several days, after which she slowly recovered.
John came frequently to the house to receive the commands of Melissa’s aunt, and brought such things as they wanted. Her aunt also sometimes went home with him, leaving the keys of the house with Melissa, but locking the gate and taking the key of that with her.She generally returned before sunset.When Melissa was so far recovered as to walk out, she found that the house was situated on an eminence, about one hundred yards from the Sound. The yard was large and extensive. Within the enclosure was a spacious garden, now overrun with brambles and weeds. A fewmedinicaland odoriferous herbs were scattered here and there, and a few solitary flowers overtopped the tangling briars below; but there was plenty of fruit on the shrubbery and trees. Theout buildingswere generally in a ruinoussituation. The cemetery was the most perfect, as it was built of hewn stone and marble, and had best withstood the ravages of time. The rooms in the house were mostly empty and decaying: the main building was firm and strong, as was also the extended wall which enclosed the whole. She found that although her aunt, when they first arrived, had led her through several upper rooms to the chambertheyinhabited, yet there was from thence a direct passage to the hall.
The prospect was not disagreeable. West, all was wilderness,from which a brookwound along a little distance from the garden wall. North, were the uneven groundswhichshe had crossed when she came there, bounded by distant groves and hills. East, beautiful meadows and fields, arrayed in flowery green, sloped tothesalt marshes or sandy banks of the Sound, or ended in the long white beaches which extended far into the sea. South, was the SoundofLong Island.
Melissa passed muchof hertime in tracing the ruins of this antiquated place, in viewing the white sails as they passed up and down the Sound, and in listening to the songs of the thousand various birds which frequented the garden and the forest. She could have been contented here to have buriedallher afflictions, and for ever to retire from the world, could Alonzo but have resided within those walls. “What will he think has become of me,” she would say, while the disconsolate tearof reflectionglittered in her eye. Her aunt had frequently urged her to yield to her father’s injunctions, regain her liberty, and marry Beauman; and she every daybecamemore solicitous andimpertinent. A subject so hateful to Melissa sometimes provoked her to tears; atotherher keen resentment. She therefore, when theweather was fair, passed much of her time in the garden and adjoining walks, wishing to be as much out of her aunt’s company as possible.
One day John came there early in the morning, and Melissa’s aunt went home with him. The day passed away, but she did not return. Melissa sat up until a latehour of the night, expecting her; shethenwent to the gate, and found it was fast locked, returned, locked and bolted the doors of the house, went to bed and slept as soundly as she had done since her residence in the old mansion. “I have at least, she said, escaped the disgusting curtain-lecture about marrying Beauman.”
The next day her aunt returned. “I was quite concerned about you, child, said she; how did you sleep?” “Never better, she answered, since I have been here.” “I had forgotten, said her aunt, that my rentsbecomedue this week. I was detained until late by some of my tenants; John was out, and I dare not return in the night alone. I must go back to-day. It will take me a week to settle my business. If I am obliged to stay out again I will send one of John’s daughters to sleep with you.”——“You need not give yourself that trouble, replied Melissa; I am under no apprehension of staying here alone; nothing can getinto or out of these premises.”——“Well, thou hast wonderful courage, child, said her aunt; but I shall be as frequently here as possible, and as soon as my business is settled, I shall be absent no more.” So saying, she bade Melissa good morning, and set off for her residence at the dwelling of John.
She did not return in two days. The second night of her absence, Melissa was sitting in her chamber reading, when she heard a noiseasof several people trampling in the yard below. She arose, cautiously raised the window, and looked out. It was extremely dark;she could discern nothing. All was still andshe thought she might have beendiscovered.
Her aunt came the next day, and told her she was obliged to go into the country to collect some debts of those to whom she had rentedsomelands: she should be gone a few days, and as soon as she returned should come there. “The keys of the house, said she, I shall leave with you. The gate I shall lock, and leavethatkey with John, who will come here as often as necessary, to assist you, and see if you want any thing.” She then went off, leaving Melissa not dissatisfied with the prospect of her absence.
Melissa amused herself in evenings by reading in the few books her aunt had brought there, and in the daytime, in walking around the yard and garden, or in traversingthe rooms of the antique building. In some, were the remains of ancient furniture, others were entirely empty. Cobwebs and mouldering walls were the principal ornaments left.
One evening as she was about retiring to rest, she thought she heard the same trampling noise in the yard, as on a former occasion. She stepped softly to the window, suddenly raised it, and held out the candle.She fancied she saw the glimpse of two or three dark forms pass swiftly along, but so indistinctly that it was impossible to determine whether they were real, or only shadows produced by objects intervening the light of the candle.She listened and gazed with anxious solicitude, but discovered nothing more. All wassilent; she shut the window, and in a short time went to bed.
Some time in the night she was suddenly awakened by a sharp sound, apparently near her. She started in a trembling panic, but endeavoured to compose herself with the idea, that something had fallen from the shelves. As she lay musing upon the incident, she heardloudnoises in the rooms below, succeeded by an irregular and confused number of voices, and presently after, footsteps ascending the stairs which led to her chamber. She trembled; a cold chilly sweatrundown her face. Directly the doors below opened and shut with a quick and violent motion. And soon after she was convinced that she distinctly heard a whispering in her room. She raised herself up in the bed and cast inquisitive eyestowards her chamber door. All was darkness—no new object was visible—no sound was heard, and she again lay down.
Her mind was too much agitated and alarmed to sleep. She had evidently heard sounds, footsteps and voices in the house, and whisperings which appeared to be in her room. The yard gate was locked, of which John had the key. She was confident that no person could ascend or get over the wall of the enclosure. But if that were practicable, how was it possible that any human being could enter the house? She had the key of every door, and they were all fast locked, and yet she had heard them furiously open and shut. A thought darted into her mind,—was it not a plan which her aunt had contrived in order to frighten hertoa compliance with her wishes? But then how could she enter the house without keys? This might be done with the use of a false key. But from whence did the whisperings proceed, which appeared close to her bedside? Possibly it might be conveyed through the key-hole of her chamber door. These thoughts tended in some degree, to allay her fears;—they were possibilities, at least, however improbable.
As she lay thus musing, a hand, cold as the icy fingers of death, grasped her arm,which layon theoutside of the bed clothes. She screamed convulsively, and sprang up in the bed. Nothing was to be seen—no noise was heard. She had not time to reflect. She flew out ofthebed, ran to the fire, and lighted a candle. Her heart beat rapidly. She cast timid glances around the room, cautiously searching every corner, and examining the door. All things were in the same state she had left them when she went to bed. Her door was locked in the same manner; no visible being was in the room except herself. She sat down, pondering on these strange events.Was it notprobablethat she was right in her first conjectures respecting their being the works of her aunt, and effected by her agents and instrumentality? All were possible, except the cold hand which had grasped her arm. Might not this be the effect of a terrified and heated imagination?Or if false keys had been made use of to enter the rooms below, might they not also be used to enter her chamber?But could her room be unlocked,personsenter, approach her bed, depart and re-lock the door, while she was awake, without her hearing them?
She knew she could notgo tosleep, and she determined not to go to bed again that night. She took up a book, but her spirits had been too much disordered by the pastscenes to permit her to read. She looked out of the window. The moon had arisen and cast a pale, imperfectlustre over the landscape. She recollected the opening and shutting of the door—perhaps they were stillopen.The thought was alarming—She opened her chamber door, and with the candle in her hand, cautiously descended the stairs, casting an inquisitive eye in every direction, and stopping frequently to listen.—She advanced to the door; it was locked. She examined the others; they wereallin the same situation. She turned to go up stairs, when a loud whisper echoed through the hall expressing “away! away!” She flew like lightning to her chamber, relocked the door and flung herself, almost breathless, into a chair.
As soon as her scattered senseswerecollected, she concluded thatwhateverhad been in the housewasthere still. She resolved to go out no more until day, which soon began to discolour the east with a fainter blue, then purple streaks, intermingled with a dusky whiteness, ascended inpyramidicalcolumnsto thezenith; these fading slowly away, the eastern horizon became fringed with the golden spangles of early morn. Asmallspot of ineffable brightness succeeded, and immediately the sun burst over the vergeof creation, deluging the world in a flood of unbounded light and glory.
As soon as the morning had a little advanced, Melissa ventured out. She proceeded with hesitating steps, carefully scrutinizing every object which met her sight. She examined every door; they were all fast. She critically searched every room, closet, &c. above and below. She then took a light and descended into the cellar—here her inquisition was the same. Thus did she thoroughly and strictly examine and search every part of the house from the garret to the cellar, but could find nothing altered, changed, or removed; no outlet, no signs of there having been any being in the house the evening before, except herself.
She then unlocked the outer door and proceeded to the gate, which she found locked as usual. She next examined the yard, the garden, and all the out houses.
Nothing could be discovered of any person having been recently there. She next walked around by the wall, the whole circle of the enclosure. She was convinced that the unusual height of the wall rendered it impossible for any one to get over it. It was constructed of several tier of hewed timbers, and both sides of it wereassmooth as glass. On the top, long spikes were thickly driven in, sharpened at both ends.It was surrounded on the outside by a deep wide moat, which was nearly filled with water. Over this moat was a draw-bridge, on the road leading to the gate, which was drawn up, and John had the key.
The events of thepastnight, therefore, remained inscrutable. It must be that her aunt was the agent who had managed this extraordinary machinery.
She found John at the house when she returned. “Does madam want any thing to-day?” asked he. “Has my aunt returned?” enquired Melissa. “Not yet,” he replied. “How long has she been gone?” she asked. “Four days, replied John, after counting his fingers, and she will not be back under four or five more.” “Has the key of the gate been constantly in your possession?” asked she. “Thekeyof the gate and draw-bridge, he replied, have not been out of my possession for a moment since your aunt has been gone.” “Has any person been to enquire for me or my aunt, she enquired, since I have been here?”—“No, madam, said he, not a single person.” Melissa knew not what to think; she could not give up the idea of false keys—perhaps her aunt had returned to her father’s.—Perhaps the draw-bridge had been let down, the gate opened, and the house enteredby means of false keys. Her father would assoon do this astoconfine her in this solitary place; and he would go all lengths to induce her, either by terror, persuasion or threats, to relinquish Alonzo and marry Beauman.
A thought impressed her mind which gave her some consolation. It was possible to secure the premises so that nopersoncould enter even by the aid of false keys. She asked John if he would assist her that day. “In anything you wish, madam,” he replied. She then directed him to go to work. Staples and iron bars were found in different parts of the building, with which he secured the doors and windows, so that they could be opened only on the inside. The gate, which swung in, was secured in the same manner. She then asked John if he was willing to leave thekeyof the gate andthedraw-bridge with her. “Perhaps I may as well,” said he; “for if you bar the gate and let down the bridge, I cannot get in myself until you let me in.” John handed her the keys. “When I come,” said he, “I will halloo, and you must let me in.” This she promised to do, and John departed.*
*Of the place where Melissa was confined, as described in the foregoing pages, scarce a trace now remains. By the events of the revolution, the premises fell into other hands. The mansion, out houses and walls were torn down, the cemetery levelled, the moat filled up; the locusts and elm trees were cut down; all obstructions were removed, and the yard and garden converted into a beautiful meadow. An elegant farm-house is now erected on the place where John’s hut then stood and the neighbourhood is thinly settled.
That night Melissa let down the bridge,locked and barred the gate, and the doors and windows of the house: she also went again over all parts of the building, strictly searching every place, though she was well convinced she should find nothing extraordinary. She then retired to her chamber, seated herself atawestern window, and watched the slow declining sun, as it leisurely sunk behind the lofty groves. Pensive twilight spread her misty mantle over the landscape; the western horizon glowed with the spangles of evening. Deepening glooms advanced. The last beam of day faded from the view, and the world was enveloped in night. The owl hooted solemnly in the forest, and the whippoorwill sung cheerfully in the garden.Innumerablestars glittered in the firmament, intermingling their quivering lustre with the pale splendours of themilky way.
Melissa did not retire from the window until late; she then shut it and withdrew within the room. She determined not to go to bed that night. If she was to be visited by beings, material or immaterial, she chose not again to encounter them in darkness, or to be surprised when she wasasleep. But why should she fear?She knew of no one she had injured.She knew of none she had displeased except her father, her aunt and Beauman. If by any ofthosethe late terrifying scenes had been wrought, she had now effectually precluded a recurrence thereof, for she was well convinced that no human being could now enter the enclosure without her permission. But if supernatural agents had been the actors, what had she to fear from them? The night passed away without any alarming circumstances, and when daylight appeared she flung herself upon the bed, and slept untilthemorning was considerably advanced. She now felt convinced that her former conjectures were right; that it was her aunt, her father, or both, who had caused the alarming sounds she had heard, a repetition of which had only been prevented by the precautions she had taken.
When she awoke, the horizon was overclouded, and itbeganto rain. It continued to rain until towards evening, when it cleared away. She went to the gate, and found all things as she had left them: She returned, fastened the doors as usual, examined all parts of the house, and again wentto her chamber.
She sat up until a late hour, when growing very drowsy, and convinced that she was safe and secure, shewentto bed; leaving,however,twocandles burning in the room. As she, for two nights, had been deprived of herusualrest, she soon fell into a slumber.
She had not long been asleep before she was suddenly aroused by the apparent report of a pistol, seemingly discharged close to her head. Awakened so instantaneously, her recollection, for a time, was confused and imperfect. She was only sensible of a strong, sulphureous scent: but she soon remembered that she had left two candles burning, and every object was now shrouded in darkness. This alarmed her exceedingly. What could have become of the candles? They must have been blown out or taken away. What was the sound she had just heard?——What the sulphureous stench which had pervaded the room?——While she was thus musing in perplexity, a broad flash likethat oflightning, transiently illuminatedthechamber, followed by a long, loud, and deep roar, which seemed to shake the building to its centre. It did not appear like thunder; thesoundsseemed to be in theroomsdirectly over her head. Perhaps, however, it was thunder.
Perhaps a preceding clap had struck near the building, broken the windows, put out the lights, and filled the house withtheelectric effluvium. She listened for a repetitionof the thunder—but a very different soundsoongrated on her ear. A hollow, horrible groan echoed through her apartment, passing off in a faint dying murmur. It was evident that the groan proceeded from some person in the chamber. Melissa raised herself up inthebed; a tall white form moved from the upper end of the room, glided slowly by her bed, and seemed to pass off near the foot. She then heard the doors below alternately open and shut,slappingfuriously, and in quick succession, followed by violent noises in the rooms below, like the falling of heavy bodies and the crash of furniture. Clamorous voices succeeded, among which she could distinguish boisterous menaces and threatenings, and the plaintivetoneof expostulation.—A momentary silence ensued, when the cry of “Murder! murder! murder!!” echoed through the building, followed by the report of a pistol, and shortly after, the groans of a person apparently in the agonies of death, which grew fainter and fainter until it died away in a seemingly expiring gasp. A dead silence prevailed for a few minutes, to which a loud hoarse peal of ghastly laughter succeeded—then again all was still. But she soon heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs to her chamber door. It was now she became terrified andalarmed beyond any former example.——“Gracious heaven, defend me! she exclaimed; what am I coming to!” Knowing that every avenue to the enclosure was effectually secured; knowing that all the doors and windows of the house, as also that which opened into her chamber, were fast locked, strictly bolted and barred; and knowing that all the keys were in her possession, she could not entertain the least doubt but the noises she had heard were produced by supernatural beings, and, she had reason to believe, of the most mischievous nature. She was now convinced that her father or her aunt could have no agency in the business. She even wished her aunt had returned. It must be exceedingly difficult to cross the moat, as the draw bridge was up; it must be still more difficult tosurpassthe wall of the enclosure; it was impossible for any human being to enter the house, and still more impossible to enterherchamber.