_ Again will the incidents of our history produce a pause. Our sentimental readers will experience a recurrence of sympathetic sensibilities, and will attend more eagerly to the final scene of our drama.----"Melissa alive!" may they say--"impossible! Did not Alonzo see her death in the public prints? Did not her cousin at New-London inform him of the circumstances, and was he not in mourning? Did not the dying Beauman confirm the melancholy fact? And was not the unquestionable testimony of her brother Edgar sufficient to seal the truth of all this? Did not the sexton's wife who knew not Alonzo, corroborate it? And did not Alonzo finally read her name, her age, and the time of her death, on her tomb-stone, which exactly accorded with the publication of her death in the papers, and his own knowledge of her age? And is not this sufficient to prove, clearly and incontestibly prove, that she is dead? And yet here she is again, in all her primitive beauty and splendour! No, this surely can never be. However the author may succeed in his description, in painting reanimated nature, he is no magician, or if he is, he cannot raise the dead.
"Melissa has long since mouldered into dust, and he has raised up some female Martin Guerre, or Thomas Hoag--some person, from whose near resemblance to the deceased, he thinks to impose upon us and upon Alonzo also, for Melissa. But it will not do; it must be the identical Melissa herself, or it might as well be her likeness in a marble statue. What! can Alonzo realize the delicacies, the tenderness, the blandishments of Melissa in another? Can her substitute point him to the rock on New London beach, the bower on her favourite hill, or so feelingly describe the charms of nature? Can he, indeed, find in her representative those alluring graces, that pensive sweetness, those unrivalled virtues and matchless worth which he found in Melissa, and which attracted, fixed and secured the youngest affections of his soul? Impossible!----Or could the author even make it out that Alonzo was deceived by a person so nearly resembling Melissa that he could not distinguish the difference, yet to his readers he must unveil the deception, and, of course, the story will end in disappointment; it will leave an unpleasant and disagreeable impression on the mind of the reader, which in novel writing is certainly wrong. It is proved as clearly as facts can prove, that he has suffered Melissa to die; and since she is dead, it is totally beyond his power to bring her to life----and so his history is intrinsically
good for nothing."
Be not quite so hasty, my zealous censor. Did we not tell you that we were detailing facts? Shall we disguise or discolour truth to please
your taste? Have we not told you that disappointments are the lot of life? Have we not, according to the advice of the moralist, led Alonzo to the temple of philosophy, the shrine of reason, and the sanctuary of religion? If all these fail--if in these Alonzo cannot find a balsam sufficient to heal his wounded bosom; then if, in despite of graves and tomb-stones, Melissa will come to his relief--will pour the balm of consolation over his anguished soul, cynical critic, can the author help it?
It was indeed Melissa, the identical Melissa, whom Alonzo ascended a tree to catch a last glimpse of, as she walked up the avenue to the old mansion, after they had parted at the draw-bridge, on the morning of the day when she was so mysteriously removed. "Melissa!"---- "Alonzo!"---- were all they could articulate: and frown not, my fair readers, if we tell you that she was instantly in his arms, while he pressed his ardent lips to her glowing cheek.
Sneer not, ye callous hearted insensibles, ye fastidious prudes, if we inform you that their tears fell in one intermingling shower, that their sighs wafted in one blended breeze.
The sudden opening of the door aroused them to a sense of their improper situation; for who but must consider it
improper to find a young lady locked in the arms of a gentleman to whom she had just been introduced? The opening of the door, therefore, caused them quickly to change their
position; not so hastily, however, but that the young officer who then entered the room had a glimpse of their situation.----"Aha! said he, have I caught you? Is my philosophic Plato so soon metamorphosed to a
bon ton enamarato? But a few hours ago, sir, and you were proof against the whole arcana of beauty, and all the artillery of the graces; but no sooner are you for one moment
tete a tete with a fashionable belle, than your heroism and your resolutions are vanquished, your former ties dissolved, and your deceased charmer totally forgotten or neglected, by the virtue of a single glance. Well, so it is:
Amor vincit omnia is my motto; to thee all conquering beauty, our firmest determinations must bow. I cannot censure you for discovering, though late, that one living object is really of more intrinsic value than two dead ones. Indeed, sir, I cannot but applaud your determination."
"The laws of honour, said Alonzo, smiling, compel me to submit to become the subject of your raillery and deception; I am in your power."
"I acknowledge, said the officer, that I have a little deceived you, my story was fiction founded on truth--the novel style: but for the deceptive part, you may thank your little gipsey of a nymph there, pointing to Melissa; she planned and I executed."
"How ready you gentlemen are, replied Melissa, when accused of impropriety, to cast the blame on the defenceless! So it was with our first parents, and so it is still. But you must remember that Alonzo is yet to hear my story; there, sir, I have the advantage of you."
"Then I confess, said he, looking at Alonzo, you will be too hard for me, and so I will say no more about it."
Melissa then introduced the young officer to Alonzo, by the appellation of Capt. Wilmot. "He is the son of my deceased uncle, said she, a cousin to whom I am much indebted, as you shall hereafter know."
A coach drove up to the door, which Melissa informed Alonzo was her uncle's, and was sent to convey Alfred and her home. "You will have no objection to breakfast with me at my uncle's, said Alfred, if it be only to keep our cousin Melissa in countenance."
Alonzo did not hesitate to accept the invitation: They immediately therefore entered the coach, a servant took care of Alonzo's carriage, and they drove to the seat of Col. D----, who, with his family, received Alonzo with much friendship and politeness. Alfred had apprized them of Alonzo's arrival in town, and of course he was expected.
Col. D---- was about fifty years old, his manners were majestically grave, and commanding, yet polished and polite. His family consisted of an amiable wife, considerably younger than himself, and three children: the eldest son, about ten years of age, and two daughters, one seven, the other four years old. Harmony and cheerfulness reigned in his family, which diffused tranquillity and ease to its members and its guests.
It was agreed that Alonzo should pass a few days at the house of Melissa's uncle, when Melissa was to accompany him to Connecticut. Alfred, with some other officers, was recruiting for the army, where his regiment then lay, and which he was shortly to join. He could not, therefore, be constantly at his uncle's, though he was principally there while Alonzo staid: but being absent the day after his arrival, Melissa and Alonzo having retired to a room separate from the family, she gave him the following account of what happened after they had parted at the old mansion.
"The morning after you left me, she said, John came to the bridge and called to be let in:--I immediately went to the gate, opened it, and let down the bridge. John informed me that my aunt had suddenly and unexpectedly arrived that morning in company with a strange gentleman, and that he had come for the keys, as my aunt was to visit the mansion that day. I strove to persuade John to leave the keys in my possession, and that I would make all easy with my aunt when she arrived. This, though with much reluctance, he at length consented to, and departed. Soon after this my aunt came, and without much ceremony demanded the keys, insinuating that I had obtained them from John by imposition, and for the basest purposes. This aroused me to indignation, and I answered by informing her that whatever purposes the persecution and cruelty of my family had compelled me to adopt, my conscience, under present circumstances approved them, and I refused to give her the keys. She then ordered me to prepare to leave the mansion, and accompany her to her residence at the house of John. I told her that I had been placed there by my father, and should not consent to a removal unless by his express orders. She then left me, intimating that she would soon let me know that her authority was not to be thus trampled upon with impunity.
"I immediately raised the bridge, and made fast the gate, determining, on no considerations, to suffer it to be opened until evening. The day passed away without any occurrence worthy of note, and as soon as it was dark, I went, opened the gate, and cautiously let down the bridge. I then returned to the mansion, and placed the candle, as we had concerted, at the window. Shortly after I heard a carriage roll over the bridge and proceed up the avenue.--My heart fluttered; I wished--I hardly knew what I did wish; but I feared I was about to act improperly, as I had no other idea but that it was you, Alonzo, who was approaching. The carriage stopped near the door of the mansion; a footstep ascended the stairs. Judge of my surprise and agitation, when my father entered the chamber! A maid and two men servants followed him. He directed me to make immediate preparations for leaving the mansion--which command, with the assistance of the servants, I obeyed with a heart too full for utterance.
"As soon as I was ready, we entered the carriage, which drove rapidly away. As we passed out of the gate, I looked back at the mansion, and saw the light of the candle, which I had forgotten to remove, streaming from the window, and it was by an extraordinary effort that I prevented myself from fainting.
"The carriage drove, as near as I could judge, about ten miles, when we stopped at an inn for the night, except my father, who returned home on horseback, leaving me at the inn in company with the servants, where the carriage also remained. The maid was a person who had been attached to me from my infancy. I asked her whether she could explain these mysterious proceedings.
"All I know, Miss, I will tell you, said she. Your father received a letter to-day from your aunt, which put him in a terrible flutter:--he immediately ordered his carriage and directed us to attend him. He met your aunt at a tavern somewhere away back, and she told him that the gentleman who used to come to our house so much once, had contrived to carry you off from the place where you lived with her; so your father concluded to send you to your uncle's in Carolina, and said that I must go with you. And to tell you the truth, Miss, I was not displeased with it; for your father has grown so sour of late, that we have little peace in the house.
"By this I found that my fate was fixed, and I gave myself up for some time to unavailing sorrow. The maid informed me that my mother was well, which was one sweet consolation among my many troubles; but she knew nothing of my father's late conduct.
"The next morning we proceeded, and I was hurried on by rapid stages to the Chesapeak, where, with the maid and one man servant, I was put on board a packet for Charleston, at which place we arrived in due time.
"My uncle and his family received me with much tenderness: the servant delivered a package of letters to my uncle from my father. The carriage with one servant (the driver) had returned from the Chesapeak to Connecticut.
"My father had but one brother and two sisters, of which my uncle here is the youngest. One of my aunts, the old maid, who was my
protectress at the old mansion, you have seen at my father's. The other was the mother of Alfred:--she married very young, to a gentleman in Hartford, of the name of Wilmot, who fell before the walls of Louisburg, in the old French war. My aunt did not long survive him;--her health, which had been for some time declining, received so serious a shock by this catastrophe, that she died a few months after the melancholy tidings arrived, leaving Alfred, their only child, then an infant, to the protection of his relations, who as soon as he arrived at a suitable age, placed him at school.
"My grandfather, who had the principal management of Mr. Wilmot's estate, sent my uncle, who was then young and unmarried, to Hartford, for the purpose of transacting the necessary business. Here he became acquainted with a young lady, eminent for beauty and loveliness, but without fortune, the daughter of a poor mechanic. As soon as my grandfather was informed of this attachment, he, in a very peremptory manner, ordered my uncle to break off the connection on pain of his highest displeasure. But such is the force of early impressions, (Melissa sighed) that my uncle found it impossible to submit to these firm injunctions; a clandestine marriage ensued, and my grandfather's maledictions in consequence. The union was, however, soon dissolved; my uncle's wife died in about twelve months after their marriage, and soon after the birth of the first child, which was a daughter. Inconsolable and comfortless, my uncle put the child out to nurse, and travelled to the south. After wandering about for some time, he took up his residence in Charleston, where he amassed a splendid fortune. He finally married to an amiable and respectable woman, whose tenderness, though it did not entirely remove, yet greatly alleviated the pangs of early sorrow; and this, added to the little blandishments of a young family, fixed him in a state of more contentedness than he once ever expected to see.
"His daughter by his first wife, when she became of proper age, was sent to a respectable boarding-school in Boston, where she remained until within about two years before I came here.
"Alfred was educated at Harvard College: as soon as he had graduated, he came here on my uncle's request, and has since remained in his family.
"Soon after I arrived here; my uncle came into my chamber one day. "Melissa, said he, I find by your father's letters that he considers you to have formed an improper connection. I wish you to give me a true statement of the matter, and if any thing can be done to reconcile you to your father, you may depend upon my assistance. I have seen some troubles in this way myself, in my early days; perhaps my counsel may be of some service."
"I immediately gave a correct account of every particular circumstance, from the time of my first acquaintance with you until my arrival at this house. He sat some time silent, and then told me that my father, he believed, had drawn the worst side of the picture; and that he had urged him to exert every means in his power to reclaim me to obedience: That Beauman was to follow me in a few months, and that, if I still refused to yield him my hand, my father positively and solemnly declared that he would discard me forever, and strenuously enjoined it upon him to do the same. "I well know my brother's temper, continued my uncle; the case is difficult, but something must be done. I will immediately write to your father, desiring him not to proceed too rashly; in the mean time we must consider what measures to pursue. You must not, my niece, you must not be sacrificed." So saying, he left me, highly consoled that, instead of a tyrant, I had found a friend in my new protector.
"Alfred was made acquainted with the affair, and many were the plans projected for my benefit, and abandoned as indefeasible, till an event happened which called forth all the fortitude of my uncle to support it, and operated in the end to free me from persecution.
"My uncle's daughter, by his first wife, was of a very delicate and sickly constitution, and her health evidently decreasing. After she came to this place, she was sent to a village on one of the high hills of Pedee, where she remained a considerable time; she then went to one of the inland towns in North Carolina, from whence she had but just returned with Alfred when I arrived. Afterwards I accompanied her to Georgetown, and other places, attended by her father, so that she was little more known in Charleston than myself. But all answered no purpose to the restoration of her health; a confirmed hectic carried her off in the bloom of youth.
"I was but a few months older than she; her name was Melissa, a name which a pious grandmother had borne, and was therefore retained in the family. Our similarity of age, and in some measure of appearance, our being so little known in Charleston, and our names being the same, suggested to Alfred the idea of imposing on my father, by passing off my cousin's death as my own. This would, at least, deter Beauman from prosecuting his intended journey to Charleston; it would also give time for farther deliberation, and might so operate on my father's feelings as to soften that obduracy of temper, which deeply disquieted himself and others, and thus finally be productive of happily effecting the designed purpose.
"My uncle was too deeply overwhelmed in grief to be particularly consulted on this plan. He however entrusted Alfred to act with full powers, and to use his name for my interest, if necessary. Alfred therefore procured a publication, as of my death, in the Connecticut papers, particularly at New London, the native place of Beauman. In Charleston it was generally supposed that it was the niece, and not the daughter of Col. D----, who had died.--This imposition was likewise practised upon the sexton, who keeps the register of deaths.[A] Alfred then wrote a letter to my father, in my uncle's name, stating the particulars of my cousin's death, and applying them to me. The epitaph on her tombstone was likewise so devised that it would with equal propriety apply either to her or to me.
[Footnote A: This was formerly the case.]
* * * * *
"To undeceive you, Alonzo, continued Melissa, was the next object. I consulted with Alfred how this should be done.----"My sister, he said, (in our private circles he always called me by the tender name of sister,) I am determined to see you happy before I relinquish the business I have undertaken: letters are a precarious mode of communication; I will make a journey to Connecticut, find out Alonzo, visit your friends, and see how the plan operates. I am known to your father, who has ever treated me as a relative. I will return as speedily as possible, and we shall then know what measures are best next to pursue."
"I requested him to unfold the deception to my mother, and, if he found it expedient, to Vincent and Mr. Simpson, in whose friendship and fidelity I was sure he might safely confide.
"He soon departed, and returned in about two months. He found my father and mother in extreme distress on account of my supposed death: my mother's grief had brought her on the bed of sickness; but when Alfred had undeceived her she rapidly revived. My father told Alfred that he seriously regretted opposing my inclinations, and that, were it possible he could retrace the steps he had taken, he should conduct in a very different manner, as he was not only deprived of me, but Edgar also, who had gone to Holland in an official capacity, soon after receiving the tidings of my death. "I am now childless," said my father in tears. Alfred's feelings were moved, and could he then have found you, he would have told my father the truth; but lest he should relapse from present determinations, he considered it his duty still with him, to continue the deception.
"On enquiring at your father's, at Vincent's, and at Mr. Simpson's, he could learn nothing of you, except that you had gone to New London, judging possibly that you would find me there. Alfred therefore determined to proceed to that place immediately. He then confidentially unfolded to your father, Vincent, and Mr. Simpson, the scheme, desiring that if you returned you would proceed immediately to Charleston. My father was still to be kept in ignorance.
"Alfred proceeded immediately to New London: from my cousin there he was informed of your interview with him; but from whence you then came, or where you went, he knew not; and after making the strictest enquiry, he could hear nothing more of you. By a vessel in that port, bound directly for Holland, he wrote an account of the whole affair to Edgar, mentioning his unsuccessful search to find you; and returned to Charleston.
"Alfred learnt from my friends the circumstances which occasioned my sudden removal from the old mansion. The morning you left me you was discovered by my aunt, who was passing the road in a chair with a gentleman, whom she had then but recently become acquainted with. My aunt knew you. They immediately drove to John's hut. On finding that John had left the keys with me, she sent him for them; and on my refusing to give them up, she came herself, as I have before related; and as she succeeded no better than John, she returned and dispatched a message to my father, informing him of the circumstances, and her suspicions of your having been to the mansion, and that, from my having possession of the keys and refusing to yield them up, there was little doubt but that we had formed a plan for my escape.
"Alarmed at this information, my father immediately ordered his carriage, drove to the mansion, and removed me, as I have before informed you.
"I ought to have told you, that the maid and man servant who attended me to Charleston, not liking the country, and growing sickly, were sent back by my uncle, after they had been there about two months."
Alonzo found by this narrative that John had deceived him, when he made his enquiries of him concerning his knowledge of Melissa's removal. But this was not surprising: John was tenant to Melissa's aunt, and subservient to all her views;--she had undoubtedly given him instructions how to act.
"But who was the strange gentleman with your aunt?" enquired Alonzo. "This I will also tell you, answered Melissa, tho' it unfolds a tale which reflects no great honour to my family.
"Hamblin was the name which this man assumed: he said he had been an eminent merchant in New York, and had left it about the time it was taken by the British. He lodged at an inn where my aunt frequently stopped when she was out collecting her rents, where he first introduced himself to her acquaintance, and ingratiated himself into her favour by art and insidiousness. He accompanied her on her visits to her tenants, and assisted her in collecting her rents. He told her, that when the war came on, he had turned his effects into money, which he had with him, and was now in pursuit of some country place where he might purchase a residence to remain during the war. To cut the story as short as possible, he finally initiated himself so far in my aunt's favour that she accepted his hand, and, contrary to my father's opinion, she married him, and he soon after persuaded her to sell her property, under pretence of removing to some populous town, and living in style. Her property, however, was no sooner sold (which my father bought for ready cash, at a low price) than he found means to realize the money, and absconded.
"It was afterwards found that his real name was Brenton; that he had left a wife and family in Virginia in indigent circumstances, where he had spent an ample fortune, left him by his father, in debauchery, and involved himself deeply in debt. He had scarcely time to get off with the booty he swindled from my aunt, when his creditors from Virginia were at his heels. He fled to the British at New York, where he rioted for a few months, was finally stabbed by a soldier in a fracas, and died the next day. He was about thirty-five years old.
"All these troubles bore so heavily upon my aunt, that she went into a decline, and died about six months ago.
"After Alfred returned from Connecticut, he wrote frequently to Vincent and Mr. Simpson, but could obtain no intelligence concerning you. It would be needless, Alonzo, to describe my conjectures, my anxieties, my feelings! The death of my cousin and aunt had kept me in crape until, at the instance of Alfred, I put it off yesterday morning at my uncle's house, which Alfred had proposed for the scene of action, after he had discovered the cause of my fainting at the theatre. I did not readily come into Alfred's plan to deceive you: "Suffer me, he said, to try the constancy of your
Leander;----I doubt whether he would swim the Hellespont for you." This aroused my pride and confidence, and I permitted him to proceed."
Alonzo then gave Melissa a minute account of all that happened to him from the time of their parting at the old mansion until he met with her the day before. At the mention of Beauman's fate Melissa sighed. "With how many vain fears, said she, was I perplexed, lest, by some means he should discover my existence and place of residence, after he, alas, was silent in the tomb!"
Alonzo told Melissa that he had received a letter from Edgar, after he arrived in Holland, and that he had written him an answer, just as he left Paris, informing him of his reasons for returning to America.
When the time arrived that Alonzo and Melissa were to set out for Connecticut, Melissa's uncle and Alfred accompanied them as far as Georgetown, where an affectionate parting took place: The latter returned to Charleston, and the former proceeded on their journey.
Philadelphia was now in possession of the British troops. Alonzo found Dr. Franklin's agent at Chester, transacted his business, went on, arrived at Vincent's, where he left Melissa, and proceeded immediately to his father's.
The friends of Alonzo and Melissa were joyfully surprised at their arrival. Melissa's mother was sent for to Vincent's. Let imagination paint the meeting! As yet however they were not prepared to undeceive her father.
Alonzo found his parents in penurious circumstances; indeed, his father having the preceeding summer, been too indisposed to manage his little farm with attention, and being unable to hire laborers, his crops had yielded but a scanty supply, and he had been compelled to sell most of his stock to answer pressing demands. With great joy they welcomed Alonzo, whom they had given up as lost. "You still find your father poor, Alonzo, said the old gentleman, but you find him still honest.--From my inability to labour, we have latterly been a little more pressed than usual; but having now recovered my health, I trust that that difficulty will soon be removed."
Alonzo asked his father if he ever knew Dr. Franklin.
"We were school-mates, he replied, and were intimately acquainted after we became young men in business for ourselves. We have done each other favours; I once divided my money with Franklin on an urgent occasion to him; he afterwards repaid me with ample interest--he will never forget it."
Alonzo then related to his father all the incidents of his travels, minutely particularizing the disinterested conduct of Franklin, and then presented his father with the reversion of his estate. The old man fell on his knees, and with tears streaming down his withered cheeks, offered devout thanks to the great Dispenser of all mercies.
Alonzo then visited Melissa's father, who received him with much complacency. "I have injured, said he, my young friend, deeply injured you; but in doing this, I have inflicted a wound still deeper in my own bosom."
Alonzo desired him not to renew his sorrows. "What is past, said he, is beyond recal; but a subject of some importance to me, is the object of my present visit.--True it is, that your daughter was the object of my earliest affection--an affection which my bosom must ever retain; but being separated by the will of Providence--for I view Providence as overruling all events for wise purposes--I betook myself to travel. Time, you know it is said, sir, will blunt the sharpest thorns of sorrow.--[The old man sighed.]----In my travels I have found a lady so nearly resembling your daughter, that I was induced to sue for her hand, and have been so happy as to gain the promise of it. The favour I have to ask of you, sir, is only that you will permit the marriage ceremony to be celebrated in your house, as you know my father is poor, his house small and inconvenient, and that you will also honour me by giving the lady away. In receiving her from your hands, I shall in some measure realize former anticipations; I shall receive her in the character of Melissa."
"Ah! said Melissa's father, were it in my power--could I but give you the original; But how vain that wish! Yes, my young friend, your request shall be punctually complied with: I will take upon myself the preparations. Name your day, and if the lady is portionless, in that she shall be to me a Melissa."
Alonzo bowed his head in gratitude; and after appointing that day week, he departed.
Invitations were once more sent abroad for the wedding of Alonzo and Melissa.--Few indeed knew it to be the real Melissa, but they were generally informed of Alonzo's reasons for preferring the celebration at her father's.
The evening before the day on which the marriage was to take place, Alonzo and Melissa were sitting with the Vincents in an upper room, when a person rapped at the door below. Vincent went down, and immediately returned, introducing, to the joy and surprise of the company, Edgar!
Here, again, we shall leave it for the imagination to depict the scene of an affectionate brother, meeting a tender and only sister, whom he had long since supposed to be dead! He had been at his father's, and his mother had let him into the secret, when he immediately hastened to Vincent's. He told them that he did not stay long in Holland; that after receiving Alonzo's letter from Paris, he felt an unconquerable propensity to return, and soon sailed for America, arrived at Boston, came to New-Haven, took orders in the ministry, and had reached home that day. He informed them that Mr. Simpson and family had arrived at his father's, and some relatives whom his mother had invited.
The next morning ushered in the day in which the hero and heroine of our story were to consummate their felicity. No
cross purposes stood ready to intervene their happiness, no obdurate father, no watchful, scowling aunt, to interrupt their transports. It was the latter end of May; nature was arrayed in her richest ornaments, and adorned with her sweetest perfumes. The sun blended its mild lustre with the landscape's lovely green; silk-winged breezes frolicked amidst the flowers; the spring birds carolled in varying strains:
"The air was fragrance, and the world was love."
Evening was appointed for the ceremony, and Edgar was to be the officiating clergyman.
"To tie those bands which nought but death can sever."
When the hour arrived, they repaired to the house of Melissa's father, where numerous guests had assembled. Melissa was introduced into the bridal apartment, and took her seat among a brilliant circle of ladies. She was attired in robes "white as the southern clouds," spangled with silver, and trimmed with deep gold lace; her hair hung loosely upon her shoulders, encircled by a wreath of artificial flowers. She had regained all her former loveliness; the rose and the lily again blended their tinges in her cheek; again
pensive sprightliness sparkled in her eye.
Alonzo was now introduced, and took his seat at the side of Melissa. His father and mother came next, who were placed at the right hand of the young couple: Melissa's parents followed, and were stationed at the left. Edgar then came and took his seat in front; after which the guests were summoned, who filled the room. Edgar then rising, motioned to the intended bride and bridegroom to rise also. He next turned to Alonzo's father for his sanction, who bowed assent. Then addressing his own father, with emotions that scarcely suffered him to articulate. "Do you, sir, said he, give this lady to that gentleman?" A solemn silence prevailed in the room. Melissa was extremely agitated, as her father slowly rising, and with down-cast eyes,
"Where tides of heavy sorrow swell'd,"
took her trembling hand, and conveying it into Alonzo's, "May the smiles of heaven rest upon you, he said; may future blessings crown your present happy prospects; and may your latter days never be embittered by the premature loss of near and dear----"
Pungent grief here choaked his utterance, and at this moment Melissa, falling upon her knees, "Dear father! she exclaimed, bursting into tears, pardon deception; acknowledge your daughter--your own Melissa!"
Her father started--he gazed at her with scrutinizing attention, and sunk back in his chair.--"My daughter! he cried--God of mysterious mercy! it is my daughter!"
The guests caught the contagious sympathy; convulsive sobs arose from all parts of the room. Melissa's father clasped her in his arms--"And I receive thee as from the dead! he said. I am anxious to hear the mighty mystery unfolded. But first let the solemn rites for which we are assembled be concluded; let not an old man's anxiety interrupt the ceremony."
"But you are apprised, sir, said Alonzo, of my inability to support your daughter according to her deserts."
"Leave that to me, my young friend, replied her father. I have enough: my children are restored, and I am happy."
Melissa soon resumed her former station. The indissoluble knot was tied: they sat down to the wedding feast, and mirth and hilarity danced in cheerful circles.
Before the company retired, Edgar related the most prominent incidents of Alonzo and Melissa's history, since they had been absent. The guests listened with attention: they applauded the conduct of our new bride and bridegroom, in which Melissa's father cordially joined. They rejoiced to find that Alonzo's father had regained his fortune, and copious libations were poured forth in honour of the immortal Franklin.
And now, reader of sensibility, indulge the pleasing sensations of thy bosom--for Alonzo and Melissa are MARRIED.
* * * * *
Alonzo's father was soon in complete repossession of his former property. The premises from which he had been driven by his unfeeling creditors, were yielded up without difficulty, and to which he immediately removed. He not only recovered the principal of the fortune he had lost, but the damages and the interest; so that, although like Job, he had seen affliction, like him his latter days were better than his beginning. But wearied with the bustles of life, he did not again enter into the mercantile business, but placing his money at interest in safe hands, lived retired on his little farm.
A few days after the wedding, as Melissa was sitting with Alonzo, Edgar and her parents, she asked her father whether the old mansion was inhabited.
"Not by human beings, he replied.----Since it has fallen into my hands I have leased it to three or four different families, who all left it under the foolish pretence or impression of hearing noises and seeing frightful objects, and such is the superstition of the people that no one now, will venture to try it again, though I suppose its inhabitants to consist only of rats and mice."
Melissa then informed them of all that had happened when she was there, the alarming noises and horrible appearances she had been witness to, and in which she was confident her senses had not deceived her. Exceedingly astonished at her relation; it was agreed that Edgar and Alonzo, properly attended, should proceed to the mansion, in order to find whether any discoveries could be made which might tend to the elucidation of so mysterious an affair.
For this purpose they chose twenty men, armed them with muskets and swords, and proceeded to the place, where they arrived in the dusk of the evening, having chosen that season as the most favourable to their designs.
They found the drawbridge up, and the gate locked, as Edgar's father said he had left them. They entered and secured them in the same manner. When they came to the house, they cautiously unlocked the door, and proceeded to the chamber, where they struck a fire and lighted candles, which they had brought with them. It was then agreed to plant fifteen of the men at suitable distances around the mansion, and retain five in the chamber with Alonzo and Edgar.
The men, who were placed around the house, were stationed behind trees, stumps or rocks, and where no object presented, lay flat on the ground, with orders not to stir, or discover themselves, let what would ensue, unless some alarm should be given from the house.
Alonzo and Edgar were armed with pistols and side arms, and posted themselves with the five men in the chamber, taking care that the lights should not shine against the window shutters, so that nothing could be discovered from without. Things thus arranged, they observed almost an implicit silence, no one being allowed to speak, except in a low whisper.
For a long time no sound was heard except the hollow roar of winds in the neighbouring forest, their whistling around the angles of the mansion, or the hoarse murmers of the distant surge. The night was dark, and only illuminated by the feeble twinkling of half clouded stars.
They had watched until about midnight, when they were alarmed by noises in the rooms below, among which they could distinguish footsteps and human voices. Alonzo and Edgar, then taking each a pistol in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other, ordered their men to follow them, prepared for action. Coming to the head of the stairs, they saw a brilliant light streaming into the hall; they therefore concluded to take no candles, and to prevent discovery they took off their shoes. When they came into the hall opposite the door of the room from whence the light and noises proceeded, they discovered ten men genteelly dressed, sitting around a table, on which was placed a considerable quantity of gold and silver coin, a number of glasses and several decanters of wine. Alonzo and his party stood a few minutes, listening to the following discourse, which took place among this
ghostly gentry.
"Well, boys, we have made a fine haul this trip."----"Yes, but poor Bob, though, was plump'd over by the d----d skulkers!"----"Aye, and had we not tugged bravely at the oars, they would have hook'd us."----"Rascally cow-boys detained us too long."----"Well, never mind it; let us knock around the wine, and then divide the spoil."
At this moment, Alonzo and Edgar, followed by the five men, rushed into the room, crying. "
Surrender, or you are all dead men!" In an instant the room was involved in pitchy darkness; a loud crash was heard, then a scampering about the floor, and a noise as if several doors shut to, with violence. They however gave the alarm to the men without, by loudly shouting "
Look out;" and immediately the discharge of several guns was heard around the mansion. One of the men flew up stairs and brought a light; but, to their utter amazement, no person was to be discovered in the room except their own party. The table, with its apparatus, and the chairs on which these now invisible beings had sat, had disappeared, not a single trace of them being left.
While they stood petrified with astonishment, the men from without called for admittance. The door being unlocked, they led in a stranger wounded, whom they immediately discovered to be one of those they had seen at the table.
The men who had been stationed around the mansion informed, that some time before the alarm was made, they saw a number of persons crossing the yard from the western part of the enclosure, towards the house; that immediately after the shout was given, they discovered several people running back in the same direction: they hailed them, which being disregarded, they fired upon them, one of whom they brought down, which was the wounded man they had brought in. The others, though they pursued them, got off.
The prisoner's wound was not dangerous, the ball had shattered his arm, and glanced upon his breast. They dressed his wound as well as they could, and then requested him to unfold the circumstances of the suspicious appearance in which he was involved.
"First promise me, on your honour, said the stranger, that you will use your influence to prevent my being punished or imprisoned."
This they readily agreed to, on condition that he would conceal nothing from them--and he gave them the following relation:
That they were a part of a gang of
illicit traders; men who had combined for the purpose of carrying on a secret and illegal commerce with the British army on Long Island, whom, contrary to the existing laws, they supplied with provisions, and brought off English goods, which they sold at very extortionate prices. But this was not all; they also brought over large quantities of counterfeit continental money, which they put off among the Americans for live stock, poultry, produce, &c. which they carried to the Island. The counterfeit money they purchased by merely paying for the printing; the British having obtained copies of the American emission, struck immense quantities of it in New-York, and insidiously sent it out into the country, in order to sink our currency.
This gang was likewise connected with the cow-boys, who made it their business to steal, not only milch cows, and other cattle, but also hogs and sheep, which they drove by night to some convenient place on the shores of the Sound, where these
thief-partners received them, and conveyed them to the British.
"In our excursions across the Sound, continued the wounded man, we had frequently observed this mansion, which, from every appearance, we were convinced was uninhabited:--we therefore selected it as a suitable place for our future rendezvous, which had therefore been only in the open woods. To cross the moat, we dragged up an old canoe from the sea shore, which we concealed in the bushes as soon as we recrossed from the old mansion. To get over the wall we used ladders of ropes, placing a flat of thick board on the top of the spikes driven into the wall. We found more difficulty in getting into the house:--we however at length succeeded, by tearing away a part of the back wall, where we fitted in a door so exactly, and so nicely painted it, that it could not be distinguished from the wall itself. This door was so constructed, that on touching a spring, it would fly open, and when unrestrained, would shut to with violence. Finding the apartment so eligible for our purpose, and fearing that at some future time we might be disturbed either by the owner of the building or some tenant, we cut similar doors into every room of the house, so that on an emergency we could traverse every apartment without access to the known doors. Trap-doors on a similar construction, communicated with the cellar:--the table, which you saw us sitting around, stood on one of those, which, on your abrupt appearance, as soon as the candles were extinguished, was with its contents, precipitated below, and we made our escape by those secret doors, judging, that although you had seen us, if we could get off, you would be unable to find out any thing which might lead to our discovery.
"A circumstance soon occurred, which tended to embarrass our plans, and at first seemed to menace their overthrow. Our assembling at the mansion was irregular, as occasion and circumstances required; often not more than once a week, but sometimes more frequent, and always in the night.--Late one night, as we were proceeding to the mansion, and had arrived near it, suddenly one of the chamber windows was opened and a light issued from within. We entered the house with caution, and soon discovered that some person was in the chamber from whence we had seen the light. We remained until all was silent, and then entered the chamber by one of our secret doors, and to our inexpressible surprise, beheld a beautiful young lady asleep on the only bed in the room. We cautiously retired, and reconnoitering all parts of the mansion, found that she was the only inhabitant except ourselves. The singularity of her being there alone, is a circumstance we have never been able to discover, but it gave us fair hopes of easily procuring her ejectment. We then immediately withdrew, and made preparations to dispossess the fair tenant of the premises to which we considered ourselves more properly entitled, as possessing a prior incumbency.
"We did not effect the completion of our apparatus under three or four days. As soon as we were prepared, we returned to the mansion. As we approached the house, it appears the lady heard us, for again she suddenly flung up a window and held out a candle: we skulked from the light, but feared she had a glimpse of us.--After we had got into the house we were still until we supposed her to be asleep, which we found to be the case on going to her chamber.
"We then stationed one near her bed, who, by a loud rap on the floor with a cane, appeared to arouse her in a fright. Loud noises were then made below, and some of them ran heavily up the stairs which led to her chamber; the person stationed in the room whispering near her bed--she raised herself up, and he fled behind the curtains. Soon after she again lay down; he approached nearer the bed with a design to lay his hand, on which he had drawn a thin sheet-lead glove, across her face; but discovering her arm on the out side of the bedclothes, he grasped it--she screamed and sprang up in the bed; the man then left the room.
"As it was not our intention to injure the lady, but only to drive her from the house, we concluded we had sufficiently alarmed her, and having extinguished the lights, were about to depart, when we heard her descending the stairs. She came down and examined the doors, when one of our party, in a loud whisper, crying "
away! away;" she darted up stairs, and we left the house.
"We did not return the next night, in order to give her time to get off; but the night after we again repaired to the mansion, expecting that she had gone, but we were disappointed. As it was late when we arrived, she was wrapped in sleep, and we found that more forcible measures must be resorted to before we could remove her, and for such measures we were amply prepared."
The stranger then unfolded the mysteries of that awful night, when Melissa was so terrified by horrible appearances. One of the tallest and most robust of the gang, was attired, as has been described, when he appeared by her bed side. The white robe was an old sheet, stained in some parts with a liquid red mixture; the wound in his breast was artificial, and the blood issuing therefrom was only some of this mixture, pressed from a small bladder, concealed under his robe. On his head and face he wore a mask, with glass eyes----the mask was painted to suit their purposes. The bloody dagger was of wood, and painted.
Thus accoutred, he took his stand near Melissa's bed, having first blown out the candles she had left burning, and discharged a small pistol. Perceiving this had awakened her, a train of powder was fired in the adjoining room opposite the secret door, which was left open, in order that the flash might illuminate her apartment; then several large cannon balls were rolled through the rooms over her head, imitative of thunder. The person in her room then uttered a horrible groan, and gliding along by her bed, took his stand behind the curtains, near the foot. The noises below, the cry of murder, the firing of the second pistol, and the running up stairs, were all corresponding scenes to impress terror on her imagination. The pretended ghost then advanced in front of her bed, while lights were slowly introduced, which first shone faintly, until they were ushered into the room by the private door, exhibiting the person before her in all his horrific appearances. On her shrieking, and shrinking into the bed, the lights were suddenly extinguished, and the person, after commanding her to be gone in a hoarse voice, passed again to the foot of the bed, shook it violently, and made a seeming attempt to get upon it, when, perceiving her to be springing up, he fled out of the room by the secret door, cautiously shut it, and joined his companions.
The operators had not yet completed their farce, or rather, to Melissa, tragedy. They had framed an image of paste-board, in human shape, arrayed it in black, its eyes being formed of large pieces of what is vulgarly called
fox-fire,[A] made into the likeness of human eyes, some material being placed in its mouth, around which was a piece of the thinnest scarlet tiffany, in order to make it appear of a flame colour. They had also constructed a large combustible ball, of several thicknesses of paste-board, to which a match was placed. The image was to be conveyed into her room, and placed, in the dark, before her bed;--while in that position, the ball was to be rubbed over with phosphorus, the match set on fire, and rolled across her chamber, and when it burst, the image was to vanish, by being suddenly conveyed out of the private door, which was to close the scene for that night. But as Melissa had now arisen and lighted candles, the plan was defeated.
[Footnote A: A sort of decayed or rotten wood, which in the night looks like coals of fire, of a bright whitish colour. It emits a faint light.]
While they were consulting how to proceed, they heard her unlock her chamber door, and slowly descend the stairs. Fearing a discovery, they retired with their lights, and the person who had been in her chamber, not having yet stripped off his ghostly habiliments, laid himself down on one side of the hall. The man who had the image, crowded himself with it under the stairs she was descending. On her dropping the candle, when she turned to flee to her chamber, from the sight of the same object which had appeared at her bed-side, the person under the stairs presented the image at their foot, and at the same instant the combustible ball was prepared, and rolled through the hall; and when on its bursting she fainted, they began to grow alarmed; but on finding that she recovered and regained her chamber, they departed, for that time, from the house.
"Our scheme, continued the wounded man, had the desired effect. On returning a few evenings after, we found the lady gone and the furniture removed. Several attempts were afterwards made to occupy the house, but we always succeeded in soon frightening the inhabitants away."
Edgar and Alonzo then requested their prisoner to show them the springs of the secret doors, and how they were opened. The springs were sunk in the wood, which being touched by entering a gimblet hole with a piece of pointed steel, which each of the gang always had about him, the door would fly open, and fasten again in shutting to. On opening the trap-door over which the gang had sat when they first discovered them, they found the table and chairs, with the decanters broken, and the money, which they secured. In one part of the cellar they were shown a kind of cave, its mouth covered with boards and earth--here the company kept their furniture, and to this place would they have removed it, had they not been so suddenly frightened away. The canoe they found secreted in the bushes beyond the canal.
* * * * *
It was then agreed that the man should go before the proper authorities in a neighbouring town, and there, as state's evidence, make affidavit of what he had recited, and as complete a developement of the characters concerned in the business as possible, when he was to be released. The man enquired to what town they were to go, which, when they had informed him, "Then, said he, it will be in my power to perform one deed of justice before I leave the country, as leave it I must, immediately after I have given in my testimony, or I shall be assassinated by some of those who will be implicated in the transaction I have related."
He then informed them, that while he, with the gang, was prosecuting the illicit trade, a British ship came and anchored in the Sound, which they supplied with provisions, but that having at one time a considerable quantity on hand, the ship sent its boat on shore, with an officer and five men, to fetch it; the officer came with them on shore, leaving the men in the boat: "As we were about to carry the provisions on board the boat, continued the man, a party of Americans fired upon us, and wounded the officer in the thigh, who fell: "I shall be made prisoner, said he, taking out his purse; keep this, and if I live and regain my liberty, perhaps you may have an opportunity of restoring it:--alarm the boat's crew, and shift for yourselves." The boat was alarmed, returned to the ship, and we saved ourselves by flight.
"This happened about four months ago; the ship soon after sailed for New York, and the officer was imprisoned in the gaol of the town to which we are to go; I can therefore restore him his purse."
The man farther informed them, that they had several times come near being taken, and the last trip they were fired upon, and one of their party killed.
They immediately set out for the aforesaid town, after having dismissed their fifteen men; and when they arrived there, Alonzo and Edgar accompanied their prisoner to the gaol. On making the proper enquiries, they were conducted into a dark and dirty apartment of the gaol, where were several prisoners in irons. The British officer was soon distinguished among them by his regimentals. Though enveloped in filth and dust, his countenance appeared familiar to Alonzo; and on a few moments recollection, he recognized in the manacled officer, the generous midshipman, Jack Brown, who had so disinterestedly relieved him, when he escaped from the prison in London!
In the fervency of his feelings, Alonzo flew to him and clasped him in his arms. "What do I behold! he cried. My friend, my brave deliverer, in chains in my own country!"
"The fortune of war, boy! said Jack--it might have been worse. But my lad, I am heartily glad to see you; how has it fared with you since you left Old England?"--"We will talk of that by and by," said Alonzo.
There were then some American officers of distinction in town, with whom Edgar was acquainted, to whom he applied for the relief of the noble sailor;----and as there were several other British prisoners in gaol it was agreed that a cartel should be immediately sent to New York to exchange them. Alonzo had, therefore, the satisfaction to see the irons knocked off of his liberal hearted benefactor, and his prison doors opened.
The man they had taken at the mansion, returned him his purse, containing only twenty-five guineas, of which Jack gave him ten. "There, boy, said he, you have been honest, so I will divide with you."
They then repaired to an inn. Jack, whose wound was healed, was put under the hands of a barber, cleaned, furnished with a change of clothes, and soon appeared in a new attitude.
He informed Alonzo, that soon after he left England, his ship was ordered for America: that the price of provisions growing high, it had taken almost all his wages to support his family; that he had sent home his last remittance just before he was taken, reserving only the twenty-five guineas which had been restored him that day.--"But I have never despaired, said he; the great Commodore of life orders all for the best. My tour of duty is to serve my king and country, and provide for my dear Poll and her chicks, which, if I faithfully perform, I shall gain the applause of the Commander."
When the cartel was ready to depart, Alonzo, taking Jack apart from the company, presented him with a draught of five hundred pounds sterling, on a merchant in New York, who privately transacted business with the Americans. "Take this, my friend, said he; you can ensure it by converting it into bills of exchange on London. Though you once saw me naked, I can now conveniently spare this sum, and it may assist you in buffeting the billows of life."--The generous tar shed tears of gratitude, and Alonzo enjoyed the pleasure of seeing him depart, calling down blessings on the head of his reciprocal benefactor.
The man who came with Alonzo and Edgar from the mansion, then went before the magistrates of the town, and gave his testimony and affidavit, by which it appeared that several eminent characters of Connecticut were concerned in this illicit trade. They then released him, gave him the money they had found in the cellar at the mansion, and he immediately left the town. Precepts were soon after issued for a number of those traders; several were taken, among whom were some of the gang, and others who were only concerned--but most of them absconded, so that the company and their plans were broken up.
When Alonzo and Edgar returned home and related their adventure, they were all surprised at the fortitude of Melissa in being enabled to support her spirits in a solitary mansion, amidst such great, and so many terrors.
It was now that Alonzo turned his attention to future prospects. It was time to select a place for domestic residence. He consulted Melissa, and she expressively mentioned the little secluded village, where
"Ere fate and fortune frown'd severe,"
they projected scenes of connubial bliss, and planned the structure of their family edifice. This intimation accorded with the ardent wishes of Alonzo. The site formerly marked out, with an adjoining farm, was immediately purchased, and suitable buildings erected, to which Alonzo and Melissa removed the ensuing summer.
The clergyman of the village having recently died in a
good old age, Edgar was called to the pastoral charge of this unsophisticated people. Here did Melissa and Alonzo repose after the storms of adversity were past. Here did they realize all the happiness which the sublunary hand of time apportions to mortals. The varying seasons diversified their joys, except when Alonzo was called with the militia of his country, wherein he bore an eminent commission, to oppose the enemy; and this was not unfrequent, as in his country's defence he took a very conspicuous part. Then would anxiety, incertitude, and disconsolation possess the bosom of Melissa, until dissipated by his safe return. But the happy termination of the war soon removed all cause of these disquietudes.
Soon after the close of the war, Alonzo received a letter from his friend, Jack Brown, dated at an interior parish in England,--in which, after pouring forth abundance of gratitude, he informed, that on returning to England he procured his discharge from the navy, sold his house, and removed into the country, where he had set up an inn with the sign of
The Grateful American. "You have made us all happy, said he; my dear Poll blubbered like a fresh water sailor in a hurricane, when I told her of your goodness. My wife, my children, all hands upon deck are yours. We have a good run of business, and are now under full sail, for the land of prosperity."
Edgar married to one of the Miss Simpsons, whose father's seat was in the vicinity of the village. The parents of Alonzo and Melissa were their frequent visitors, as were also Vincent and his lady, with many others of their acquaintance, who all rejoiced in their happy situation, after such a diversity of troubles. Alfred was generally once a year their guest, until at length he married and settled in the mercantile business in Charleston, South Carolina.
To our hero and heroine, the rural charms of their secluded village were a source of ever pleasing variety. Spring, with its verdured fields, flowery meads, and vocal groves: its vernal gales, purling rills, and its evening whippoorwill: summer, with its embowering shades, reflected in the glassy lake, and the long, pensive, yet sprightly notes of the solitary strawberry-bird;[A] its lightning and its thunder; autumn with its mellow fruit, its yellow foliage and decaying verdure; winter, with its hoarse, rough blasts, its icy beard and snowy mantle, all tended to thrill with sensations of pleasing transition, the feeling bosoms of
Alonzo and Melissa.
[Footnote A: A bird which, in the New England states, makes its first appearance about the time strawberries begin to ripen. Its song is lengthy, and consists of a variety of notes, commencing sprightly, but ending plaintive and melancholy.]
* * * * * _