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 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
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 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
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 ENDOWED BY THE 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 SOCIETIES 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
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 http://archive.org/details/nightwatchorsociOOhoff 
 
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THE 
 
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 Si 
 
 NIGHT WATCH; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SOCIAL Lip IN THE SOUTH 
 
 BY SOMEBODY. 
 
 "Through all disguise, form, place, or name, 
 Beneath the flaunting robe of sin, 
 Through poverty, and squalid shame, 
 Thou lookest on the man within." 
 
 * 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 MOOKE, WILSTACH, KEYS & CO. 
 
 25 WEST FOURTH STREET. 
 1856. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 
 
 C. 0. HOFFMAN, 
 
 In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern 
 
 District of Ohio., 
 
 i 
 
 Stereotyped and Printed by 
 MOORE, WILSTACH, KEYS & CO. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAfiB. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Close Quarters 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Parvenue Patroness 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Household Cares 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Milliner's Shop 30 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The little Scotch Woman 40 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Heart Revealings and the True Friend 4.6 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Scenes in the Sanctuary 53 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Dinner Party 59 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Divers Scenes in Sundry Places 70 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Nature's Nobleman 83 
 
 (iii) 
 
iV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The Journal 90 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A Domestic Scene in High Life .... 101 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A Young Raven Fed 115 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Siren 124 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Jew Peddler 135 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 The Neophyte Actor 147 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Lover — Soul Phases 159 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The Lady and the Toady 174 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 The Miser's Home 184 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 The Courteous Manager 194 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 The Ambush 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 The Fall 210 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 The Courtship 214 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 The Old Jew's Family 223 
 
CONTENTS. V 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 The Good Wife 230 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 The Governor's Levee 241 
 
 *- 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 The Masque 264 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 The Forgeries 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 The Letter 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 The Wedding 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 The Elopement Discovered 324 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 The Chamber of Death 331 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 The Marriage 341 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 The Happy Home 345 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 The Journal — The Far Past Recalled , 359 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 The Journal — A Gift 374 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 The Journal — An Intriguante 391 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 The Journal — A Stunning Announcement , 408 
 
vi 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 The Journal — The Return 425 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 The Journal — Paradise and Purgatory 440 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 The Journal — The Maniac Mother 457 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 The Journal — Old Friends and Foes 469 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 Conscience, the Oracle of God 480 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 Retribution, or the Maniac Husband 488 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 The Happy Family 503 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 The Jewess 512 
 
 CHAPTER XLVH. 
 The Conclusion 520 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CLOSE QUARTERS. 
 
 " Have pity on them, for their life 
 
 Is full of grief and care ; 
 You do not know one half the woes 
 
 The very poor must bear ; 
 You do not see the silent tears 
 
 By many a mother shed, 
 As childhood offers up the prayer, 
 
 1 Give us our daily bread/ " 
 
 In one of the large towns in the South, in a street not 
 very remote from the central and business portion of the 
 place, there are still standing two or three mean -looking, 
 dilapidated, gloomy hovels. I know not why these are 
 left there to cumber the earth, and to mar the general pros- 
 pect, amid the neighboring tenements which present a 
 new, clean, thrifty appearance, unless it be that it is prop- 
 erty entailed; which is doubtless the case. The partic- 
 ular house before which we would now conduct our 
 readers, presents a front of about eighteen feet of old, 
 moldy boards, with a jutting, blackened roof. One small 
 window has sidled off to the left, as if weary of standing 
 up so straight ; or may be, like the door, it has grown 
 feeble by the weight of so many years, and is trying to 
 find something to lean upon. The walls, as well as the 
 window sills and door lintels, have had a rough coat of 
 white-wash and coarse green paint administered to them 
 
 (vii) 
 
3 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH, 
 
 recently, which, by-the-by, only makes one think of the 
 utter futility of trying to make old, worn-out things look 
 fresh and new. 
 
 Such was the exterior of this dwelling. Now let us 
 take a survey of the interior. There is neither hall nor cor- 
 ridor ; the old, creaking door opens into the one best room, 
 which is made to serve as parlor, dining room, bedroom, 
 and sometimes kitchen. As I said before, it is lighted by 
 only one narrow window, looking out on the street. The 
 whole place gives evidence of extreme indigence, but 
 everything is forced up to its highest point of usefulness, 
 and made to show to the best advantage. The little old 
 patched up table, and broken work stand, are polished 
 and made decent by frequent brushings and furbishings. 
 The few aged and worn rush-bottom chairs bear marks of 
 the same careful, pains-taking hand. A small, single bed 
 in each corner of the room fills one broad side, while on 
 the other stands an old cupboard in solitary grandeur, con- 
 taining articles of , Jhousehold use. Another little, low, 
 rickety door opens out on a shed, which has been turned 
 into a stall by the present occupants. In this place stands 
 a small cooking-stove, where their meager meals are 
 prepared. 
 
 The inmates of the house are an old lady, her grand- 
 daughter, and great grandson. The grandmother seems 
 to be the active agent and presiding genius of the place. 
 She is dressed in a cheap calico wrapper. A plain mus- 
 lin cap, much darned, and a neat white handkerchief is 
 pinned transversely over her bosom. She looks to be in 
 good health, although a cripple. She is at this moment 
 sitting in an old armchair, which is minus an arm, patched 
 up and mended from top to bottom. She is looking 
 moody, but not positively dissatisfied or disconsolate, as 
 she rocks herself sometimes violently, then more delibe- 
 rately, and finally subsides into a gentle undulating mo- 
 tion, as her feelings and memories prompt. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 9 
 
 The granddaughter, who is young and beautiful, ap- 
 pears to be unhappy. She is sitting in a low chair, quite 
 still, her arms hanging down listlessly by her side, gazing 
 vacantly into the fire. She, unlike her grandmother, is 
 attired carelessly, and in a dress which was once costly, 
 handsome and rich, but is now faded and worn in many 
 places, and if not ragged, we must thank the same poor 
 old lady who, with her natural thrift, with spectacles on 
 nose, has plied the needle in many places. Meantime she 
 sits there, alternately looking at her daughter and the 
 fire. 
 
 " Well now ! there you are, like the old gray cat in the 
 corner ; one about as much use as the other. I say, Myra, 
 what good will it do to sit there moping and gazing into 
 the old rusty grate ? It will not put coals into it. I say, 
 don't you hear, child? " and she placed her lips in such 
 close proximity to the lady, whom she called Myra, that 
 she touched her, while she shouted the last words into her 
 ear. The granddaughter started so violently as almost to 
 upset her. The old lady seemed to be vexed, as she with 
 difficulty recovered her equilibrium, exclaiming, " Now is 
 not this too bad? You had better knock me down at 
 once, then I would know exactly how I stand in the house. " 
 Myra looked at her imploringly, and bending on her those 
 glorious eyes, filled as they now were with a soft and hu- 
 mid light, said, 
 
 " Oh, mother, I do most humbly ask your pardon. I 
 would not have been guilty of such rudeness, especially to 
 you, for the world. I hope you will forgive me, dear 
 grandmamma." 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must overlook this, as I do every- 
 thing else, but I can not permit you to sit there forever- 
 more in that way. You must learn to exert yourself, 
 child. True, you have been treated badly : I know all 
 that. But see, God has left you all your faculties, and 
 you have health and strength to work, if not in one way, 
 
10 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 then in another. How can you sit there mewed up, sigh- 
 ing and groaning, when there are no provisions in the 
 house, no coal in the cellar, no wood in the yard, and 
 scarce a change of clothing, even for the child, of the 
 coarsest kind ? I tell you it will not do. Think you, 
 because God sees fit to withdraw some of his blessings, 
 after having permitted you to enjoy so many of his good 
 things, to be nurtured delicately, and fondled in the lap 
 of luxury, he will now excuse you for not improving the 
 talent which is left? Come, rouse up ; unfold the napkin 
 which conceals thy talent, and be doing, lest thou be 
 brought to judgment." 
 
 " Oh ! God, pity me ! " exclaimed the young woman, with 
 such a heart-broken tone and despairing look, that even 
 the stern old lady appeared softened. 
 
 " Well, child, I'm sorry that I have to scold so much, 
 but I must stick to the text, 1 there is no use in sighing 
 and groaning over spilt milk ! ' " 
 
 " Dear grandma, spare me this one time. I have done 
 what I could. It does seem to me all that I could yet 
 awhile. I have complied with the requisitions of our pit- 
 iless landlord, and in order to secure to him the miserable 
 pittance w^e owe him for the rent of this 'palace,' I have 
 consented to have myself put over the door as fashionable 
 dress-maker from New York. Oh, Lord ! I pray thee 
 forgive me all the falsehoods and subterfuges which I am 
 now compelled to practice." 
 
 Then she folded her arms and resumed her despairing 
 look and attitude, gazing, as was her constant habit, into 
 the fire. The old lady seemed to think she must follow 
 up the subject, and avail herself of the little advantage 
 gained; for it was a point achieved to get poor Myra even 
 to listen. To hear and heed, with a reply or remark, not 
 wholly irrelevant to the subject in hand, were events now 
 of rare occurrence. She therefore again essayed to rouse 
 her granddaughter from her lethargic mood. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 11 
 
 • "But my daughter, I do not see why you have done 
 this ? I did not desire that you should thus humble your 
 proud spirit so much, all at once. I did not intend that 
 you should stoop so low as to become a thing to be ordered 
 about, insulted, and brow-beaten, by the insolent, purse- 
 proud mushrooms, and miserable parvenues of this 
 overgrown city. It is not thus I would have you exert 
 yourself, my dear. Why not make your fine accomplish- 
 ments available? Music, French, drawing, etc? There 
 is nothing mortifying, degrading or ignoble in these pur- 
 suits.- You only establish your superiority over the mass : 
 and while your own mental faculties are maturing, you 
 are doing something toward elevating the better portion 
 of the animal. But in this vile employment you can only 
 minister to the vanity and self-loye of a parcel of haughty 
 women, heartless butterflies, who will presently treat you 
 with impertinence and contumely. In short, dear child, 
 poor and miserable as we are made by poverty, and the 
 cruelty of man; neglected, deserted, unknown, and un- 
 happy; still I am unwilling that you should expend 
 your time, and exhaust your strength in adorning the 
 bodies of those worms, — in fitting the caterpillar to fly. 
 I will not have it so." 
 
 "Now, my dear grandmother, everything but our 
 wretchedness here (looking around on the bare walls and 
 floor), and that your child is educated, ana perhaps a 
 little more gifted than falls to the lot of some others 
 (which in our peculiar situation I deem a great misfor- 
 tune), has escaped you. Have you forgotten the crowning 
 sorrow of my life ? Have you ceased to remember the 
 cause of our leaving home, and fleeing as for our lives, to 
 this remote place, where I desire to shun all associates ? 
 Have you ? Oh yes ! you do seem to have forgotten ail, 
 while I never do ! Waking or sleeping, it is always the 
 same. Memory, with me, is * The worm which never 
 dieth.' " 
 
12 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 She wrung her hands, and writhed, as if undergoing the 
 intensest agony of spirit, while her fine form, and beau- 
 tiful features jerked with a spasmodic force. Her cheeks 
 (that soft downy surface, with charming dimples) col- 
 lapsed and became livid, so that the old lady shrieked out 
 in terror, at the same time catching up the pitcher of 
 water, and throwing its contents into her face. She soon 
 recovered. Who would not, to be so thoroughly baptized 
 in ice-water, in the month of December? She smiled 
 faintly, as she looked up timidly into her mother's face, 
 saying in the same soft, dulcet voice, 
 
 " Forgive me, grandma ! I could not help it." 
 
 "Well ! may God forgive us both our trespasses ! I fear 
 we are both to blame," rejoined the old lady. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 IS 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PAR VENUE PATRONESS. 
 
 "There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes, 
 For her beautiful boy beside her lies ; 
 Oh, heaven of bliss ! when the heart overflows 
 With the rapture a mother only knows." 
 
 "Where is Clarence? " said the grandmother. 
 
 The daughter looked troubled, and seemed afraid to 
 speak. Grief makes us timid and cowardly sometimes. 
 However, she nerved herself and replied : 
 
 " I have sent him to that day-school, just across the 
 street. I hope you will not blame me for doing this ? I 
 could not teach him any longer, if I am to engage in the 
 business indicated by that rude sign over the door." 
 
 The old woman frowned, and moved about uneasily in 
 her chair, as she rejoined : 
 
 " Then I should like to know who is to cut the wood for 
 the kitchen stove, fetch the coal, buy our marketing, and 
 bring the water from the pump? You sit there more 
 dead than alive ; I am crippled, and almost blind ; still 
 you look to me to keep house, have all the meals in order, 
 and make everything snug, and you all comfortable." 
 
 Poor Myra could not refrain from smiling at this tirade 
 of the garrulous, but good-hearted old lady. This enume- 
 ration of household cares could not fail to bring to her 
 mind the total destitution of her family. Then she 
 remembered that there was neither coal, wood, nor pro- 
 visions in the house, and no means to buy. 
 
 Just then the old street-door flew open, and there burst 
 into the room, like a 11 sunbeam," a little boy about six 
 
14 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 years old. He came bounding and dancing into the center 
 of the room, then stopped and threw up his little cap, 
 shouting, "Huzza! I'm head of my class, already, mamma," 
 and he looked so bright, and beautiful, and happy, that 
 you could never for an instant possibly suppose that he 
 was an inmate of that dark, dismal, cold room. One would 
 naturally think of a stray angel, sent there to cheer the 
 desponding inhabitants of the place. So seemed to think 
 the mother ; for there was a gleam of joy, and a ray of 
 hope overspreading that pale, sad face. 
 
 " Come here, my angel boy, and kiss your mother." 
 
 The child flew into her arms, embracing her passionately, 
 . then nestled on her bosom, and began to sob ; softly 
 repeating, " I love you, mamma ; /love you. Don't look 
 so mournful, pretty, sweet, good mamma. My heart is 
 full of love for you. Never mind whether anybody else 
 loves you or not." And there they sat, that transcend- 
 ently beautiful young mother, who, but for her deep 
 dejection, w^ould scarce have seemed beyond early girl- 
 hood, and that glorious little boy, locked in each other's 
 arms, weeping as if their only luxury was in tears. Mean- 
 time the grandmother looks on sullenly, still rocking 
 herself. Presently the two weepers become calmer ; the 
 clouds cleared away from the boy's April face, and the 
 young mother looked less somber. 
 
 The child unwound his little arms from her neck, and 
 gently slid from her lap. Approaching his grandmother, 
 looking shy and confused, he said, " I love you too, mam." 
 
 " Well, I suppose you do," said she, somewhat gruffly. 
 " Who said you didn't? But boy that won't put bread in 
 your mouth, will it ? Can you live on these fine tantrums ? 
 Do either of you feel any better since that copious shower? 
 I guess you will change your note presently, when you 
 sit down to knives and forks, and empty plates." 
 
 The child looked hurt, and instinctively shrunk from 
 her, as we do from whatever gives us pain, and again 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 15 
 
 drew near to his tender, loving mother. The impressions, 
 impulses, and instincts of childhood are very strong; 
 they can not reason, they do not comprehend, but they 
 feel. These feelings are acute, and they obey their 
 promptings. At an early age they acknowledge the 
 influence of kindness of look, gentleness of word, suavity 
 of manner. 
 
 Oh ! what a sad, sad spectacle to me, greater than any 
 other, is that of a mournful, dispirited child. Great must 
 be the sufferings, tremendous the hardships, and cruel, 
 more than cruel, the treatment to a child sufficient to 
 crush out its innate buoyancy and mirthfulness — to put 
 out the light and joy of its little soul. In this instance, 
 the young mother had so sheltered her cherub boy from 
 all want and harshness — so adroitly managed to conceal 
 the true situation of her family from him, that save a 
 vague idea which was forced on him by seeing her in 
 tears, and hearing his grandmother's croakings, he had 
 no conception of misfortune or sorrow. True, he knew 
 and felt every day that there was a great change in their 
 mode of life. It had been but a short time since they 
 resided in a fine house, and he was waited on by servants 
 — was petted and caressed. He also remembered to have 
 seen his mother and himself handsomely dressed and ap- 
 parently surrounded by friends. These reminiscences 
 brought no joy to his young mind, because the bare men- 
 tion of them drew a cloud over his mother's face, and 
 filled her eyes with tears. He knew this had all vanished. 
 He saw and felt that they lived poorly, were meanly clad, 
 and oftentimes he was cold and hungry. But he also 
 knew that he had only to intimate this to his beautiful 
 mother, when she would by some means supply him with 
 all that was needful to appease his appetite ; and when he 
 was cold, he had but to nestle in her bosom, to lie down 
 there and listen to the beatings of that heart whose every 
 impulse he knew was for him. The little fellow adored 
 
16 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 his mother with such an entire devotion that it seemed 
 sufficient for him to be near her. This was happiness in 
 itself, yet awhile. But, as the old grandmother said, it 
 would not satisfy the cravings of nature. Presently he 
 crept up to her, and asked in a very humble voice, u If 
 she had any supper for him." 
 
 For a moment she hesitated whether she would box his 
 ears, or trouble herself to explain to him the low state of 
 their financial concerns, pantry, larder, cellar, etc. An 
 impatient movement, with a deprecatory look from the 
 mother, induced the grandmother to desist. So she seated 
 herself again and commenced rocking. 
 
 Myra now rose and left the room for a few moments. 
 When she returned, she held in her hand a stale loaf of 
 bread, a few drops of milk in a broken tumbler, and one 
 dried herring. After spreading a tattered cloth on the 
 little old table, she placed these articles of food on it, 
 which were every morsel the house contained. Then 
 going to the cupboard, she took from it a small tea canis- 
 ter, and a little delf teapot, and approaching her mother, 
 asked her if she would make the tea. By this time 
 the old lady had been disarmed of her wrathful feelings 
 by the subdued dignity of her granddaughter, and taking 
 the things, she said, 
 
 " Well, child, where is the water ? I thought every fool 
 knew that it took three things besides the tea to make it: 
 water, sugar, and milk." 
 
 " Oh I will bring the water," said the bright little boy. 
 With that he caught up the bucket, ran to the pump, filled 
 it, all the time singing one of those beautiful waltzes 
 which he had so often heard his mother play both on the 
 harp and piano. 
 
 When he returned, he found standing before the door 
 two ladies, who were trying to decipher the rude sign. 
 One of them said (and his blood boiled while he listened), 
 
 " But see, the fool has put no name up. I wonder if 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 17 
 
 she has moved. c Fashionable dress-making by nobody.' 
 It amounts to that ; and look what sort of a house too. 
 Dear me, how very absurd it is to think of having such 
 elegant fabrics as yours are, made up in such a looking 
 place as this. Why, really I don't think I could wear a 
 dress made here. You may depend upon it, Emma, she 
 is some poor straggler altogether unworthy of our pat- 
 ronage." * 
 
 w Why, now, mamma," replied a pretty, innocent-looking 
 girl (whose head was no doubt full of all sort of romance 
 about love in a cottage, birds, flowers, and whiskers ; and 
 her heart, too, overflowing with benevolence and sympa- 
 thy, ready to yield up both to the first who should make 
 a demand), " you should not prejudge this person. You 
 do not know but this poor old house may present a very 
 different aspect within. Shall we see for ourselves? Shall 
 I knock ? " 
 
 Just then the little Clarence came up, bending under 
 his burden, the water bucket. The elder lady said, 
 rudely, 
 
 u Boy, do you live here?" 
 
 M Yes," said the child, catching the tone and spirit in 
 which he was addressed. 
 
 " Then what is the name of the woman who sews ? " 
 pointing to the sign. 
 
 The boy pushed by her without speaking, and would 
 have shut the door in her face, had not the girl added, 
 
 " JSTow, mamma, how could you accost that beautiful 
 boy in that way ? " 
 
 "Why, Emma, you are a fool. Pray, how would you 
 have me address such people?" 
 
 Emma did not reply, but turning to Clarence, said, 
 
 " My little son, my pretty little man, we wish to come 
 in here, to see the lady ; we have some business with her. 
 Will you have the kindness to open the door ? " 
 
 9 
 
18 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 In a moment a sweet smile beamed on the child's face 
 (which when lighted up by happiness was as beautiful as 
 his mother's). He touched his cap, and as speedily as he 
 could, opened the old creaking door, saying, 
 
 " Walk in, if you please, ladies." 
 
 These two aristocratic members of the best society, 
 seemed to be amazed as they view r ed the premises. Dis- 
 gust and impertinence usurp the place of surprise with 
 the elder lady ; while mingled emotions of astonishment, 
 admiration, and commiseration are written on the coun- 
 tenance of the girl. Her eyes w^ere riveted on the face 
 of Mrs. "Wise, the mother of the boy. She looked as if 
 uncertain whether she saw aright, and w r as almost unwil- 
 ling to trust to her sense of seeing. 
 
 " Surely, I am deceived ! It is some bright, beautiful 
 optical illusion. She has not moved. It is some charm- 
 ing picture, or splendid statue. I will approach and feast 
 my eyes." *> 
 
 The elder lady, all this time, had seen nothing but the 
 squalid misery of the apartment, and the poor old woman 
 who was still proceeding with her scanty preparations for 
 supper. In the meantime, the child had placed himself 
 by his mother, ready to share with her, whether good or 
 bad fortune. 
 
 The young lady was most elaborately dressed, had 
 pleasing manners, a conciliatory tone of voice, and rather 
 pretty face. She approached that mother and child with 
 a respectful air, although a little bit too patronizing to 
 suit the one or the other. The boy possessed all his 
 mother's delicacy of feeling, with her sensitiveness. 
 
 " Madam, I have called to get some dresses fitted. We 
 were passing, and happened to descry the sign over the 
 door." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Wise trembled from head to foot. All the 
 blood in her veins rushed to her face, and, by as sudden a 
 
THE NIGHT W A T H 
 
 19 
 
 revulsion, back to her heart, thus leaving that face as 
 colorless as marble. The girl again looked amazed, and 
 soliloquized softly, 
 
 " Just now I thought her a most lovely painting, look- 
 ing like patient resignation. Now it is a sublime piece 
 of statuary; the similitude of grief! Oh! how exquis- 
 ite. What shall I say or do next ? I feel greatly puzzled, 
 and somewhat disconcerted." 
 
 I presume the interview would have ended here, so 
 much was she, in her over-wrought notions of romantic 
 sensibility, afraid of wounding the feelings of the unhappy 
 lady ; but just then her mother came rustling up in her 
 brocade of regal purple, calling out in a high-pitched 
 voice, " We would like to have several dresses made, and 
 we want them done in double quick time. We were on 
 our way to Madam Bertram's, who is both fashionable 
 and stylish, as well as distinguished for good taste. This 
 foolish child would put in here. 
 
 " Will you let us see some of your fashions? Some of 
 your latest prints and patterns from Paris?" 
 
 Poor Mrs. Wise turned away, and did all she could to 
 control her feelings — but to no purpose. This was the 
 initiatory step. With all her griefs and troubles she had 
 not as yet known much of humiliation. These were the 
 first witnesses of her degradation. Her poor, crushed 
 heart had not yet become indurated by slights and con- 
 tumely. She turned from them, and her whole frame 
 shook with convulsive sobs. The child clung round her 
 knees, weeping, too, as he stretched out one little hand, 
 holding the open palm toward them: 
 
 " Go away ! Go away ! You have hurt poor mamma's 
 heart/' He always expressed himself thus, because he 
 had so often seen her, when troubled, press her hand 
 tightly over her heart. "You have made her cry. 'No^x 
 go away." 
 
20 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 The lady seemed vexed, and casting a scornful look 
 around, said, 
 
 Come daughter, come Emma Calderwood, this is no 
 place for us. I am disgusted and tired of the sight." 
 
 Not so with the young girl. She again approached 
 Mrs. Wise, took her hand, and looking into her face, w T ith 
 the most sympathetic as well as respectful expression, 
 added — 
 
 k ' Pardon, if you please, my mother and myself, if we 
 have given you pain, I sincerely regret it. Believe me, 
 I could not forsee this." 
 
 " Oh ! I am so wretched," sobbed out poor Myra, in 
 reply, " I am driven to this expedient by the direst neces- 
 sity, but I am so poorly fitted for it yet. After a while 
 I shall get used to these hard things ; then I shall do 
 better. Will you have the kindness to excuse this weak- 
 ness?" She advanced to Mrs. Calderwood — 
 
 " Madam, I am now ready to be employed." 
 
 " Oh yes; I dare say you are, but it matters not. I 
 believe I would rather not have my fine silks sprinkled 
 over with salt water every day, or whenever you feel like 
 getting up a scene. I think, however, I will stop and see 
 your fashions." 
 
 " Alas ! madam, I have none. I did not think of this." 
 
 "Then of course you can not expect such persons as we 
 are to give you our work. " And then with a disdainful 
 toss of the head, and a sneer as she again glanced around 
 the room, she called to her daughter and swam out of 
 the house. 
 
 Before the girl followed, she whispered a few words to 
 Mrs. Wise, then slipping something into the hand of the 
 little boy, bowed politely to the old lady, and also passed 
 into the street. 
 
 After they had gone, the grandmother placed the tea 
 and toast on the table, hobbled to a trunk, unlocked it, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 21 
 
 and took out the very smallest sugar dish, filled but indif- 
 ferently well with brown sugar, muttering to herself all 
 the time — 
 
 " Yes, I still lock up the sugar from the negroes just the 
 same as when w r e had them to steal, which they will all 
 do, with a very few exceptions. This is only the force of 
 habit, that's all. Come, children, and partake of what 
 God has given us, and be thankful." Then the three 
 poor, destitute, lonely creatures surrounded the table. 
 The grandmother asked a blessing ; offered a sincere but 
 brief prayer of thanksgiving and praise. 
 
 That woman w 7 as old and ugly, had an ungracious man- 
 ner ; was crusty of speech, impatient and stern sometimes. 
 But beneath all this beat a heart which was honest, and 
 true, and kind, and good. And as she sat there in the 
 presence of God, and pronounced that humble, heartfelt 
 invocation, who can affirm that she did not stand as fair 
 as angels, and seraphs, and saints ; and it may be, was 
 far more acceptable to God himself, than they who sat in 
 high places, with crowned heads. 
 
 When they had finished the meal, they drew around the 
 little grate. Clarence had crept to his mother's knees as 
 usual, and was now trying to draw her attention to a gold 
 piece which had been given him by the young girl, Emma 
 Calderwood. His mother seemed to feel worried at it. 
 
 "1 don't want it, my son, I can't use it until I have 
 rendered an equivalent for it." 
 
 " But mamma, she gave it to me. I did not ask her for 
 it, and now I will give it to you. Come, take it dear 
 mamma." 
 
 " Give it to me, Clarry; your mother is a simpleton, 
 with her high Eoman virtue, and Spartan notions of 
 endurance, and independence, and all that. I will take it, 
 and look upon it as a real God-send. I will, to-morrow, 
 lay it out for food to keep our souls within our bodies." 
 
22 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 The child hands her the money, adding, " Grandma, you 
 must buy something pretty for my sweet mother." 
 
 " Why, child, it is five dollars ! Well, no matter, the 
 world owes everybody a living ; for it is God's world, and 
 we are all his children; and if he "feeds the young 
 ravens," how much more will he feed us, who are so 
 precious in his sight — having paid such a ransom for us. 
 Yes, Clarry, to-morrow we will lay in a little stock of pro- 
 visions, and w r hen that is gone w T e will continue to hope 
 and believe that He will still supply us from his own 
 store-house." So then, after committing her little family 
 to the protection of that Omnipotent arm, she laid herself 
 down, calmly and peaceably to rest, without fear or dis- 
 trust. They were all, with a sleeping world, in the hands 
 of the living God. This faith sufficeth. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD CARES. 
 
 " Vain we number every duty, 
 Number all our prayers and tears, 
 Still the spirit lacketh beauty, 
 Still it droops with many fears." 
 
 The sun was up and had traveled many a mile on his 
 daily journey, before the inmates of the hovel had left 
 their pillows. Myra woke first, and looking around on all 
 the appointments of the miserable place, sighed so deeply, 
 so heavily, that one might suppose the heart which sent 
 it forth had been riven. 
 
 She took into her arms the beautiful boy, who slept so 
 sweetly by her side, looking so pure and innocent. She 
 gazed on him with a fond and swelling heart. A placid 
 smile o'erspread his dimpled face. " Surely," cried she, 
 " angels are whispering to thee. For your sake my dar- 
 ling one. I will nerve myself to endure all things. I will 
 endeavor to forget the past, bear with the present, and 
 look hopefully to the future. I will learn to work, to 
 submit to impertinence, and cease to brood over my 
 wrongs, my sweet little Clarry. Yes, my boy, you are to 
 be educated ; you must be fitted to take your place among 
 men, even though I, your unfortunate mother, should fall 
 in the life-struggle to accomplish it." 
 
 She slipped softly from the bed — a new spirit seemed 
 to have passed into her. For the first time in a great 
 while, there seemed to be, even to her, an object in life. 
 She dressed herself in the poor faded garments, all she 
 possessed on earth, and after having made her ablutions 
 
24 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 in freezing water, and combed her hair with almost frozen 
 fingers, she betook herself to the novel task of making a 
 fire. Never before in all her life had she attempted a 
 thing of the sort; never had lighted a fire, or dressed 
 without one. During the space which had intervened 
 between her luxurious mode of life and her troublous one, 
 she had through inertness, thoughtlessness, or maybe 
 apathy, suffered herself to be waited on by her grand- 
 mother, who, by dint of good management and great 
 industry, had contrived to provide a few comforts. More- 
 over, she was wholly absorbed with her griefs — and thus 
 it occurred. Her intentions, motives, and actions were 
 all good, as far as she remembered. Now, poor lady, she 
 fails in all. She could not get the fire to burn ; she used 
 all such aids as the place afforded. 
 
 At last she succeeded in getting a faint blaze in the 
 grate ; but this was a small matter. The fire in the stove 
 was a stupendous undertaking. Her courage faltered here. 
 She struggled hard, but accomplished nothing. She over- 
 turned the kettle, threw T down the poker, .shovel and 
 tongs, until at last she sat down and wept with fatigue 
 and vexation. What must she do? What more could 
 she do ? And now to crown her troubles, after giving up 
 all hope of success with the stove, she returned to the 
 room, expecting to find a cheerful fire blazing there, when 
 lo ! every spark was extinct, and she had her first work to 
 do over again. 
 
 The old lady begins to yawn and groan, and in the 
 same querulous voice to croak : 
 
 " Now this is hard on me, one of my age, to have to get 
 up and do as much service as any negro girl in the city." 
 
 Poor Myra, hearing this, came forward, and with the 
 tears still glistening in her eyes, declared she had been up 
 for the last hour exerting herself, but all to no purpose. 
 The grandmother hobbled up, and as she dressed con- 
 tinued to grumble all the time. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 25 
 
 " Yes. so it is. This comes of not raising our children 
 and grandchildren like we have ourselves been brought 
 up. My father was rich too : but where I was born and 
 bred, nothing was more common than for girls to wait on 
 themselves. Many hundreds and thousands of times have 
 I made my fire ; yet was my father one of the magnates 
 of the land. It was different though with that poor child. 
 Where she was reared it was so difficult to do anything of 
 the sort. Her good, docile, gentle mother must e'en do 
 like other people, and she doated on her daughter so 
 much, thinking she was quite too pretty to do anything 
 in the shape of work. I wonder if that poor thing could 
 make a biscuit to save her life? I reckon not." 
 
 She had by this time completed her simple toilet, and 
 now with the greatest ease makes both fires, and sets 
 about preparing coffee. Myra, in the meantime had made 
 the beds, swept the floor, dressed the child, placed the 
 chairs in order, and spread the table for breakfast. True, 
 all this was poorly done ; but she did her best. When the 
 bread -cart came by, the grandmother bought a loaf, and 
 also a pint of fresh milk. But they had neither meat nor 
 butter. 
 
 Again they surround that frugal board, and the good 
 old lady invokes another blessing. 
 
 Scarcely had this meal passed, when the same young 
 lady who has been made known to the reader as Miss 
 Emma Calderwood, made her appearance. She came 
 running into the room, flew to the fire, spread out her 
 hands, and sitting down commenced, 
 
 " Good morning, ladies. I hope you are both well. I 
 declare this morning is enough to freeze out all the love, 
 and generosity, as well as politeness, that one may happen 
 to have in her heart. Don't you think so darling?" said 
 she, kissing the little Clarence. 
 
 The child smiled languidly. He did not know exactly 
 how to take such familiarity from an entire stranger. As 
 3 
 
26 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 usual, he crept up to his mother, and placing one little 
 hand around her neck, stood there silently awaiting the 
 result of this early visit. 
 
 " I have played mamma the nicest trick. Poor mamma 
 is very peculiar. I felt so much hurt at what occurred 
 here yesterday. I do hope you will not remember it. At 
 all events, do not let it, I beseech you, make a difference 
 between us." This w T as addressed to both ladies. Then 
 turning to Myra : " I intend (with your permission) that 
 we shall be friends. My heart is set on it. I liked you 
 all, the instant I laid my eyes on you. Last night at tea, 
 I would tell papa of our little adventure, in spite of all 
 mamma's winks across the table. Papa is quite different 
 from, mamma ; he is very indulgent to me, his only pet, 
 and suffers me to obey my impulses sometimes, right or 
 wrong. When I take a fancy to any one, he allows me to 
 follow the bent of my inclinations. I told him all about 
 you this morning, down in the parlor, where I pretended 
 to be practicing ; but in truth it was only to get away 
 from mamma, because she sometimes makes herself so 
 disagreeable to us both. He kissed me and said, 4 If mat- 
 ters stood as I seemed to think, he was not surprised at 
 my admiration.' Now, my dear ladies," said she, bowing 
 to both, " you must consent to receive papa, for my sake, 
 at first ; afterw T ard for himself — for you can not fail to like 
 him, he is so handsome, and the most agreeable of men." 
 
 Seeing a troubled expression on the face of Myra, she 
 looked quickly toward the old lady, but there was nothing 
 in her wrinkled countenance either to reassure or discour- 
 age ; she pursued her morning avocations as if there had 
 been no stranger in the room. Then the girl sought the 
 face of the daughter again ; that perplexed expression 
 had given place to one of intense pain, .and she became 
 extremely agitated. 
 
 The grandmother called impatiently to her, " Myra, 
 Myra, bethink yourself ! What are you doing ? " 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 27 
 
 In an instant the cloud passed away, and she smiled 
 languidly. This kind-hearted girl was very thoughtless, 
 and sometimes indiscreet in her manner of even doing 
 good. She could not comprehend that what she had 
 said was even remotely the cause of Myra's present 
 excitement. 
 
 " I'm sure you will love papa, he is so fine looking, so 
 genteel and well bred, so polite and fashionable. Now, 
 the long and short of it is this : you must let us both be 
 
 of service to you. I should feel so proud of aiding 
 
 I mean, of being allowed to aid such a lady as you are. 
 And } t ou, my little Prince Eegent, I have fallen dead in 
 love with you. Won't you be my little sweetheart ? Here 
 are a few trifles which I bought for you on the way." 
 
 She opened several bundles, and discovered to the 
 delighted child a great variety of pretty toys. Infancy 
 is easily won off from troubles. The bright little fellow 
 clasped his hands together in the attitude of thankful- 
 ness ; then clapped them and fairly shouted with joy — 
 
 u Oh ! mamma ! Oh ! grandmamma ! just look, just 
 such things as cousin Walter used to bring me. Mamma, 
 I must give this good lady my cousin Walter for a sweet- 
 heart. Tm too little, you know. Where is he ? I must 
 tell her about him." 
 
 A look from his mother checked his raptures. He 
 looked abashed, and suddenly became silent. The girl 
 remarked this, but was too thoroughly good-natured and 
 well-bred to make any comments. She went on — 
 
 " See here, my little man." 
 
 "Oh yes! a beautiful gilt ball, looking like pure gold," 
 cried the child, u and a splendid top, with such an assort- 
 ment of marbles, and this beautiful little knife. Oh ! dear 
 mamma, tell me how to thank the good lady. 
 
 Emma looked at Mrs. Wise (the mother was watching 
 with delight the radiant face of her son) . 
 
 u Oh ! my goodness ! I never saw such a change. I do 
 
28 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 wish papa could see you just now while you are smiling." 
 In her delighted surprise she jumped up, scattering the 
 sugar plums, nuts, and raisins to the further ends of the 
 room, flies to Mrs. Wise, seizes her hand, and exclaims 
 with enthusiasm : " Oh ! madam ! O my dear friend ! 
 promise me one thing ; that you will alw T ays smile on me 
 in that way when I come; then I will steal away from 
 mamma every day, that I may come and sun my heart. 
 I have heard of rays of light, and moonbeams, and April 
 showers, and sunny skies, but I never saw T anything like 
 that bright smile in all my life before. Will you smile 
 thus when I bring papa to see you ? Yet I fear it will 
 turn his head." 
 
 She reseated herself and continued to open the little 
 stores. Clarence had succeeded in gathering up the spilt 
 comfits. " Come here, love ; ask ma and grandma to do 
 you the favor to partake with you , " handing him a large 
 paper full of fresh figs and beautiful white grapes. These 
 had been bought more with a view to regale the two ladies 
 than to please the child. 
 
 Now, it w^as a most difficult thing for that old lady's 
 face to relax into a smile ; it was so un practiced in such 
 levities; but she did her best toward it, which amounted 
 to little more than a grimace. Yet her words were kind, 
 as she thanked Miss Emma for thinking of her. Her 
 voice, though far from silvery, was much less grating 
 (the oil of kindness had found its way to her rusty tem- 
 per), and though not smooth, was at all times firm and 
 steadfast when it became her duty to speak, and never 
 backward in praising God and in reproving sin. 
 
 Emma rose to depart, approaching the old lady, she 
 said, u Madam, I hope we shall be very good friends in 
 future." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, God knows it stands me in hand to be very 
 grateful for everything in the shape of friendship. But, 
 young lady, I'm not much in favor of such sudden and 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 29 
 
 violent attacks. Good does not always come of it. You 
 know nothing of us, nor we of you. Presently, maybe, 
 you'll change your mind, or you may tire of us ; or some 
 one may ridicule you about it ; then you'll regret that you 
 ever expressed yourself so warmly. Better take things 
 a leetle more coolly , my dear, for your own sake. But, 
 under God, I give you fervent thanks for this outpouring 
 of the milk of human kindness. Yesterday, and the day 
 before, and for many days, I thought it was all dried up. 
 I thank heaven, for the credit of human nature, that we 
 have met you." And this plain, upright, downright, hon- 
 est-hearted old woman brushed a tear from her bleared 
 eyes. 
 
 The girl pressed her hand, as she said, " I am very 
 happy to find you care enough for me to admonish me. I 
 shall long remember that precept, and hope to be bene- 
 fited also by your example.'' 
 
 Myra followed her to the door, and explained to her 
 that she expected to render an equivalent in sewing for 
 the gold piece left with the child. The girl looked hurt, 
 broke away from her, ran down the street a short dis- 
 tance, then returning, kissed the mother and little boy 
 affectionately, adding, 
 
 " Why did you wish to mortify me by speaking in that 
 way ? Was it because mamma treated you as she did ? I 
 could not help it. Nay, say no more. Can not I be 
 allowed to make the most beautiful thing in all creation a 
 little present, when I have such an abundance?" 
 
30 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 THE MILLINER'S SHOP. 
 
 " Of all the causes which conspire to blind 
 Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind; 
 What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
 Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools." 
 
 When Mrs. Calderwood left the hovel and had returned 
 to her splendid mansion, she threw herself down on a 
 sofa and commenced rating Emma. In the first place, 
 she was very angry with her daughter for proposing, and 
 herself for condescending to enter such a place. She 
 would say, " What a fool I was, and what a fool you are, 
 Emma, to think of people of our cast stooping so low!" 
 
 The girl was facetious, and did not stand in awe of her 
 mother ; she very quietly replied, 
 
 " Poor dear mamma, I did not know that you had to 
 stoop, I went in without. You did nt strike your head I 
 hope though, mamma? Yet the door was quite low." 
 
 " You are a little fool ! I consider myself very badly 
 treated by that insolent woman. Who wanted to witness 
 all those tragedy-queen airs in a milliner's shop ? I go 
 to the theater when I wish to see acting. And that old 
 crone was so hateful; yet I declare I liked her a thousand 
 times more than I did the pretty one. Why, Emma, she 
 makes herself a perfect Niobe, or whatever it is the hea- 
 thens used to call them crying goddesses. I tell you 
 now, once for all, I like the old woman the best, and if 
 she could sew, I would give her some work to help her 
 along." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, I don't doubt it — for I have observed 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 31 
 
 that you are particularly sympathetic toward old ugly 
 women. I don't know why either — you can't have a fel- 
 low-feeling for them, have you, ma'am?" Mrs. alder - 
 wood was exceedingly homely. 
 
 Mrs. Green and Mrs. Gray are announced. After the 
 usual nothings are passed, she recounts to them this singu- 
 lar adventure. Several other ladies call : the story is told 
 to all with many embellishments, and so it travels ; each 
 one bestowing her own additions and adornments, until it 
 is made quite a little romance of. This mischievous 
 woman has done all this to gratify a natural malevolence 
 of temper, and a peculiar spite she feels for all pretty 
 women. It excites great curiosity, and the ladies deter- 
 mine to give this mysterious stranger a call. 
 
 Miss Jones chimes in : "Yes, indeed, Mis Callerwood, I 
 do think madame nature had little to do to lavish such 
 gifts on a poor thing whom fortune has discarded. I 
 shall call some time to-morrow, if I can make any sort of 
 an excuse. Oh, now I remember, I'll take an old skuirt to 
 her to quilt." 
 
 " I'll go with you," replied Mrs. Calderwood, getting 
 up and beginning to look animated. " I'll go with you; 
 I just want to see what sort of airs and tantrums she'll 
 take on herself next time." 
 
 Miss Emma Calderwood had just finished speaking and 
 left them, Mrs. Wise had resumed her low seat, and her 
 listless attitude by the fire, — the child crouching at her 
 feet, — when they were startled by a thumping or beating 
 at the door; I can not call it a rap or even a knock. The 
 child springs up, his mother requests him to go to the 
 door, which he opens, and in stride Mrs. Calderwood and 
 Miss Nancy Jones. Myra did not rise from her seat. She 
 seemed intuitively to understand that they meant to in- 
 sult her, and wished to maltreat her. To their arrogant 
 "good morning, ma'am," she bowed slightly, pointing to 
 
32 
 
 THE NIGH T W A T C H . 
 
 seats, then resumed her reading. Clarence had shoved a 
 couple of chairs to the fire, then crept back to his mother's 
 side. 
 
 After a short time Mrs. Calderwood said, in a very 
 supercilious way, " Mrs. I have brought you a cus- 
 tomer, Miss Jones, Mrs. ." 
 
 A very slight inclination of her head, and then she lays 
 the paper in her lap, and looks, not at the ladies, but into 
 the fire. 
 
 " Did I understand you, madam, last evening, to say that 
 your Parisian fashions would shortly arrive ?" 
 
 " I do not know, madam, what you understood ; but I 
 said not a word of the sort." 
 
 " Well, then, when do you expect them ?" 
 
 " Never," said Myra, very haughtily. 
 
 "Now that's cool, isn't it?" 
 
 " 'Tis honest, at least," rejoined Miss Jones. " Can I 
 
 get you, Mrs. , to quilt me an under-skuirt? I have 
 
 one I want to get made out of old dress-tails." 
 
 No reply — Myra resumed her newspaper. 
 
 "When can you have it done?" she went on, winking 
 at Mrs. Calderwood. 
 
 " I do not understand any such work. I will not under- 
 take it." 
 
 "Pray, then, what do you understand?" added Mrs. 
 Calderwood. "Yesterday you plead ignorance about 
 what your sign out there intimates ; now you can't do 
 plain sewing. Will you have the kindness to inform us 
 what you do understand, and what you will undertake?" 
 
 " I understand clearly, madam, that you came here this 
 morning to maltreat me ; therefore the sooner we close 
 this interview the better, and I undertake to protect my- 
 self and family as best I may, from insult ; also to rid my 
 house speedily of any who are wicked and cruel enough 
 to meditate such unprovoked attacks." 
 
 She made a sign to the child, who went himself to the 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 33 
 
 door and set it wide open, then took his place on one side, 
 as if to show the ladies out. They took the hint. Miss 
 Jones rose first and set up a giggle, which seemed to 
 incense the little boy, whose face flushed, and tears started 
 to his eyes as he looked at his mother, who was very 
 pale, but calm. 
 
 "Hoity ! toity! but she's high-flown and lofty, though, 
 isn't she, Mis Callerwood?" 
 
 Mrs. Calderwood glared at poor Myra with those great, 
 pale, blue eyes, and in passing, said, " I'll make you sorry 
 for this." 
 
 " I do not doubt it, madam," said Myra. 
 
 Ere the door was closed, two other ladies entered. 
 They came without glancing over the room, or showing 
 any surprise, which was a great relief to the inmates. 
 Coming up to Mrs. Wise (who was now expecting imper- 
 tinence from every one, and did not at first rise,) they 
 greeted her with a courteous good morning: she in 
 return, received them in the most polished lady-like way. 
 The lady introduced herself as Mrs. Green, and then pre- 
 sented her daughter, Miss Mary Green. 
 
 Myra invited them to the fire, and laid aside her paper. 
 Then there were a few trite, but necessary remarks about 
 the weather, and a little well-timed notice of the child. 
 It was clear that this was done to open the way for some 
 business. Poor Myra felt the delicacy of the procedure, 
 and it was with the greatest difficulty she could control 
 her feelings. 
 
 Matters had progressed thus far, w T hen the poor old 
 crippled grandmother came hobbling in with a huge bas- 
 ket on her arm. She did not perceive the ladies, and 
 was taken greatly by surprise, and really looked amazed, 
 when Myra got up and said almost cheerfully, " Allow 
 me, ladies, to make you acquainted with my grandmother; 
 Mrs. Wise, Mrs. and Miss Green." 
 
34 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 The young lady rose at once and offered her seat at the 
 fire. Mrs. Wise took it unhesitatingly, and as she threw 
 herself into it, said, 
 
 " Thank you, my dear. I am very tired, as you can no 
 doubt see. All good, well-bred young ladies have a sym- 
 pathy for the aged and the infirm. Clarry, my son, bring 
 that stool and place it here. Now, Miss Green, you will 
 do me the favor to sit by me." The child brought an old 
 backless chair from the shed and set it down as directed, 
 The girl seated herself. 
 
 " Oh ! you are so cold ; let me help you off with your 
 gloves." 
 
 When she had removed them (for the old lady was 
 quite passive, looking pleasantly into her face), Miss 
 Green took those poor, withered hands, which were stiff 
 with cold and hard from servitude, and chafed them until 
 all coldness disappeared from them, as well as all gruff- 
 ness from the countenance. 
 
 When they are about to depart the elder lady be- 
 came embarrassed, hesitated. At last she said rather 
 hurriedly : " Mrs. Wise, I am going to ask a favor of you. 
 My daughter will leave home soon, to be absent some 
 time. I shall be much hurried, fitting out her wardrobe. 
 Will you assist us ? I shall take it as a favor, and will be 
 most happy to make all due return." 
 
 Myra's eyes filled with tears. She could not speak. 
 Then ensued a pause, which was only broken by the child 
 saying, as he tugged at his mother's hand, to gain, her 
 attention, 
 
 " Oh ! yes, mamma, you must help that good lady to 
 sew. God sent her here to get you to help her. He 
 knows how nicely you can stitch, mamma, and He wants 
 her to have her work done well. Grandmamma says God 
 orders everything, and all things ; then He sent these 
 ladies here, and Miss Emma too." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 35 
 
 He jumped up to the little cupboard, gets his paper of 
 confectionary, and pressed them to partake, saying — 
 "Another good lady brought me these." 
 
 Mrs. Wise pressed their hands in silence ; while the 
 grandmother uttered in a voice husky with emotion, 
 " God will reward and bless you for all kindness to His 
 poor. We thank you for His dear sake." 
 
 When they were gone, the grandmother, perhaps to 
 avoid a scene, calls little Clarry to her in a cheerful tone, 
 
 M Come here, son, and see what grandma has bought 
 with your gold piece. Quite a little store. Get your 
 slate and calculate it." 
 
 He ran off with alacrity. When he returned, he seated 
 himself, saying, " Now I am ready, mam, to cypher it all 
 up. By what rule must I work ? Addition, subtraction, 
 division, or multiplication ? " 
 
 " Well, I reckon it will take your entire stock of knowl- 
 edge in each one. This is a wholesale business of ours 
 this morning." 
 
 u I'm waiting, grandma." 
 
 " Child, bring me that basket," said she to Myra. She 
 repeated it in a louder voice : " Myra, Myra, don't you 
 hear me speak to you ? " 
 
 Then the poor lady started up, and looking wildly 
 around, said, " Did you speak to me, grandmother? " 
 
 " Oh ! Lord have mercy on us ! What ! dreaming 
 again ? Hoped you had got waked up. I thought so just 
 now, when those ladies were here. I want you to bring 
 me that new basket. Now begin, sir. First of all, I 
 gave fifty cents for the basket, set that down ; twenty-five 
 for butter, fifty for tea, fifty for coffee, twenty -five for 
 loaf sugar, twenty-five for brown sugar, tw r enty-five for 
 molasses, twenty for rice. Then I came by the market 
 and got two little beefsteaks and some nice country sau- 
 sages, these were fifty cents. I bought a dollar's worth 
 
36 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 of coal, and a cart-load of wood for the little stove. I 
 gave a man a dime to bring the basket. I had forgotten, 
 I have a few potatoes. And here is fifteen cents left, 
 which you must have to do as you please with." 
 
 " Then where will you get the money to buy a little 
 milk for your and mamma's coffee, or to get the warm 
 loaf!" 
 
 " Oh mercy ! sure enough, or to pay for the hauling 
 the coal and wood, and for cutting it up. What shall we 
 do ? " cried the old lady. " I had quite forgotten all this." 
 
 Just then there was a noise in the street, as of some- 
 thing being thrown out, with a thundering knock at the 
 door. 
 
 "Hallo ! there." 
 
 Mrs. Wise, the elder, limped to the door. A red-haired, 
 savage-looking man, his face and hands smeared and be- 
 grimed over with mud and coal dust, came forward, and 
 demanded the money, twenty-five cents for the hauling. 
 She offered him fifteen, saying, " This is all I have in the 
 world. I will pay the other dime soon." 
 
 He refused it, adding, while he looked at her insolently, 
 " Then, be Jasus ! ye hadn't ought to employ honest men 
 to work, when ye know ye haint got the tin to pay 'em. 
 I tell you, ' auld one,' I wants my money. I'm a poor 
 man, what lives by my labor, and what axes no favors of 
 any body, only to pay me my wages." 
 
 " Well, my friend, I know ; but this is every cent I 
 have on God's earth." 
 
 " Thin I'll jist take some o' them good things what ye 
 had in the basket when I met ye down by your coal pen." 
 
 " Oh no ! this must not be ; these are all the provisions 
 we have." 
 
 The daughter could stand it no longer. She came to 
 the door, her eyes flashing fire and her face flushed. There 
 she stood in all her native majesty and beauty, looking at 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 37 
 
 the man for a moment in silence. The poor craven wretch 
 actually cowered before her ; she saw it, and in a voice of 
 contemptuous pity, said, 
 
 " Go away, sir, and call this afternoon ; then perhaps I 
 may be able to settle with you." 
 
 The man doffed his cap. " Yes, me leddy, but what 
 time would you have me come?" 
 
 " Five o'clock," said Myra. 
 
 At the same moment a cart is driven up by a negro 
 boy, who, throwing out the wood, comes up to Myra, 
 takes off his hat, scratching his woolly pate : " Missus, 
 you owes me fifteen cents, if you please, mam." 
 
 u Call presently, my good little uncle." 
 
 u Yes, mam, I will," and he drove off. 
 
 " My God ! " said Myra, throwing herself down in a 
 chair, u do I deserve all this suffering? Insult, cold, hun- 
 ger, with prostration of soul and body." 
 
 After sitting still for some time, her eyes cast down, her 
 head bowed as in humility, she laid, 
 
 u Mother, I have an idea that this thing is being pushed 
 too far. I think Til end it. What is life worth to me 
 now ? One brazier of charcoal, with the use of that little 
 shed, some night when all the windows and doors are 
 closed, and I shall be beyond this misery." 
 
 Hush, Myra, that is impious. Think of your child." 
 
 The little fellow came in laughing, having been highly 
 amused with the unloading of the carts. He jumped glee- 
 fully into his mother's lap, throwing his arms around her 
 neck, and kissing her fondly. For the first time he finds 
 those impassioned caresses meet no return. He slid from 
 her lap, while her arms fall down despairingly by her 
 side. Her eyes are fixed on vacancy ; she can not weep ; 
 all softness is dried up. Adversity hardens some hearts 
 which are naturally gentle and tender. Her's could only 
 be reached through kindness, noble deeds, generous 
 actions. Squalid misery brought no feeling but that 
 
38 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 of disgust, rebellion, and loathing of life. We know this 
 is all wrong, but w T e are recording facts ; putting them 
 down as they really are, and not as they should be. 
 
 Poor little Clarence crept to his grandmother, and hid 
 his face in her apron, sobbing out u What is the matter 
 with mamma." 
 
 " Oh, God only knows child. I can't understand her 
 high ways. Your mother, my dear, although my own 
 grandchild, is a riddle to me. She has grand ways even 
 in being sorry. Sublime in grief I suppose the book people 
 would call it. Now, for my part, when G-od withdraws 
 the light from me, I just know I have done something to 
 displease him ; and although I may not exactly at the 
 time feel what it is, I believe that it is good for me to be 
 chastised. Then I make up my mind at once, to submit, 
 pray, and repent. But I never stop work, mind you, 
 child. Having put my shoulder to the wheel, I do not 
 withdraw it. After awhile he suffers me to come home 
 to the Saviour. But this is the darkest season I have 
 ever known. Yet, what matter ? It is not too dark for 
 the light of his forgiving smiles to penetrate and scatter. 
 He is looking on, dear children, and will suffer things to 
 go just so far and no further. In his own good time he 
 w T ill lift the burden, or take us home. Yes, Clarry, take 
 us home to heaven ; where the best and truest friend we 
 ever had is waiting for us. Blessed Jesus ! thou art 
 indeed a true friend to the poor, and needy, and wretched. 
 £ If thou art for us, who shall be against us? ' " 
 
 Another thundering knock at the door. A man stands 
 there with baton in hand ; he is clothed in coarse furs, 
 coat buttoned up to his eyes, over which a fur cap is drawn 
 so as almost to conceal them. This is the guardian of the 
 streets, whose business it is to make the ways straight 
 and smooth, for the rich and great to walk in, lest they 
 strike their feet against a stone. The man calls out in a 
 loud and somewhat gruff voice, " Wood and coal in the 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 39 
 
 street — can't stay — must be removed before sundown — 
 heavy tine, else." 
 
 He was about to pass on, when Myra, with a pensive, 
 abstracted air, goes to the door. The man looks at her 
 with amazement, and involuntarily takes off his cap. 
 
 "What is it, sir? " asked the absent-minded lady. 
 
 " Well ! I don't know now. Can I be of any service to 
 you, miss ? " 
 
 He approached very near to her, looking steadfastly in 
 her face, with much more of curiosity and admiration 
 than impertinence. Though he came up with a deferen- 
 tial manner he advances too close — the lady suddenly 
 recovers from her abstraction and slams the door in his 
 face. He utters an impatient exclamation, and a little 
 oath ; then moves -off, dubiously shaking his head, and 
 repeating to himself as he hurries along : 
 
 " Well, she is pretty — there's no mistake about that. 
 But what right had she to insult me in that way ? To 
 slam the door in my face, and she living in that old shanty, 
 too. Such beautiful women should not expose their sweet 
 faces at such a door as that, if it offend them for such men 
 as me to gaze at them. I shouldn't have hurt her little, 
 white hand ; only meant to touch it, and offer my services. 
 But zounds ! she looked grand. Oh, wouldn't she queen it 
 over a fellow ? I reckon she is some great lady from over 
 seas, and is unfortunate ; maybe been badly treated, 
 robbed, deserted, forsaken. If so I don't blame her. I 
 rather think I did gaze too hard at her — the unhappy do 
 not like to be speered at. Some other time, maybe I can 
 help her along ; do her a quiet little service. I'd do any- 
 thing for her, just to get a look at her beautiful counte- 
 nance. About sundown I'll pass along there again, and 
 if that wood and coal are there still, I'll knock again ; 
 then maybe I may get another glance ; but it shall be a 
 distant view. I'll never offend her again. I wonder who 
 she is, and where she came from? " 
 
 Y 
 
• 
 
 40 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LITTLE SCOTCH WOMAN. 
 
 " The tear down childhood's cheek that flows, 
 Is like the dew-drop on the rose ; 
 When next the summer breeze comes by, 
 And waves the bush, the flower is dry." 
 
 Poor Myra seemed to have nerved herself for endurance 
 that day. Throughout all her vexations she remained 
 passive, as if waiting to see what new shape her troubles 
 would assume. 
 
 " Grandma, what do you propose now? Do you wish 
 me to go out and bring in the coal, and saw that wood?" 
 
 " ]Nfo, but Clarry can bring the coal to the door, and 
 we'll trust to chance about the wood." 
 
 " Well ! trust on mother. "We'll see presently what your 
 trust will bring us. We'll see ! Oh, we'll see ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 She laughed hysterically as the tears ran down those 
 peach-blossom cheeks. Then she fell again into reverie. 
 
 " Come, darling, you go and fill the box, and poor old 
 cripple grandma will take it at the door, and carry it 
 through to the kitchen. See, here are two boxes. We'll 
 soon have it all in — then we'll think about the wood." 
 
 She gets a coarse apron with long sleeves, puts it on the 
 child, and ties one around her own waist. The beautiful 
 boy goes out, and commences his labors. Every one who 
 passes stops an instant to look at the lovely little creature, 
 with his sunny curls waving in the frosty air. Some speak 
 to him, but he heeds them not. Presently he stops and 
 thinks a moment. His grandma gives him the box; he 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 41 
 
 fills it, and says, " Grandma, I am so tired, let me rest a 
 little while." 
 
 When the door is closed, he takes from his pocket his 
 golden ball and top, and runs off to a toy-shop. 
 
 " Sir, these things were given me a very short time ago, 
 by a good lady, but they are too pretty for poor me, now. 
 Will you buy them? Give me a little money for them. 
 Look, my fingers are almost frozen from carrying in coal." 
 
 u Why, yes," said the man, " these be nice things, rlow 
 much do you want or expect to get on them, my boy? " 
 
 " I don't know, sir. Whatever you may choose to give." 
 
 "Well, here is fifty cents." 
 
 The child laid -the toys on the counter. They were 
 worth at least a dollar. Then the little fellow ran back 
 to his work. 
 
 " Aweel ! now Patrick, are ye not ashamed to swindle 
 that 1 wee bit bairn,' in that way? Don't ye see, can't ye 
 see by one blink o' your little grey een, that the puir lit- 
 tle body .is cheated ? < Oh, wad some power the giftie gie 
 us, to see*oursels as others see us.' " 
 
 M Now, me leddy, you jist go and give him more, if you 
 want to. I've done very well by him, methinks, seeing 
 he's a stranger ." 
 
 u Ah ! that's it ; but what does the gude God tell ye 
 about the stranger within thy gate ? " 
 
 This conversation passed between a little Scotch woman 
 and the Irish shop-keeper. She had come to buy some 
 trifle, but her mind being taken up, just then, with the 
 child, she left without making her purchase. 
 
 The man shouted after her in rather a loud voice, — 
 " Miss Minny, Miss Minny Dun, come back; I want a word 
 with ye." 
 
 " Aweel, some ither time ; I'm going doon here to speak 
 to the chiel a bit." 
 
 When she arrived at the place, Clarence was working 
 like a Trojan. The tears were forced down his cheeks by 
 4 
 
42 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 the cold ; still his little heart was not discouraged. Near- 
 ly all the coal had been taken in, and his sweet face was 
 so blurred and begrimed with tears and smut, that an 
 intimate friend could not have recognized him. 
 " Good day to ye, my darling." 
 
 The child looked up, but as quickly cast his eyes down, 
 seeming to be ashamed of his employment. 
 
 " Oh, now, never mind the work ; it's all right and hon- 
 orable to do sae ; and never mind the dirt either ; but 
 puir little soul, you let that man up there cheat you. Sor- 
 ry, sorry fellow that he is ! He didn't give you half the 
 worth o' your pretty toys." 
 
 " O, mam ! but I don't mind ; he gave me more than I 
 expected of him. Grandma says that's the way of the 
 world. I am very glad of that much." 
 
 "What are you going to do with it, birdie? " asked the 
 girl affectionately. 
 
 " You see that wood there ; well, I am going to get it 
 all saw r ed up and packed away in the kitchen. I have 
 no ax, and grandmother can't buy one yet. I could chop 
 it up myself, for my sweet mother's and grandmother's 
 sake, if I had the ax." Then he drew himself up to his full 
 hight, looking proudly on the little pile of wood. "You 
 know I love them so much that I love to work for them." 
 
 " Aweel, dear, just let me loan you this little piece of 
 money to get it done this time, and when you grow large 
 enough to work, then you will pay me back." 
 
 " Oh ! please, Miss, don't make me owe you anything. 
 I do not know whenever I can pay you. Pray don't 
 make me be in debt. Grandma says, £ Owe no man any- 
 thing but good will;' " 
 
 "But, dear, I'm not a man, you see. I'm only a little 
 woman, a poor little shop-keeper. Yet I can spare this 
 sma' sum. Nae doubt I shall want ye many a time to do 
 me a turn. We are neebors, chiel' ; I live just a wee bit 
 farther adown the street. Come, keep it." 
 
T H E N 1 G H T W A T H . 43 
 
 They call him from the house, and the little Scotch 
 woman passed on, reflecting and turning about in her 
 mind how she can benefit the child and the inmates of 
 the hovel. At a glance she has discovered that there is 
 poverty and suffering within the old moldy walls. 
 
 The last box of coal is put away, the apron is taken off, 
 and the child is washed, his pretty hair combed, and every 
 vestige of his recent occupation removed. Some of the 
 new coal is put on, which burns up cheerfully. The old 
 lady has made a clean fireside, and set all things in order. 
 The superb and refined Myra had packed the coal : she 
 could not sit there and see the grandmother limping back 
 and forth with the box. 
 
 The child looks weary, and begins to fret. " Mamma, I 
 am so hungry ; almost starved, mamma," he cries. 
 
 Myra looks at her grandmother, but says nothing. 
 
 u Yes, my love, I don't doubt it, but presently we'll 
 have the very nicest little supper you ever sat down to in 
 your life : molasses, sausages, warm loaf, tea, milk." 3he t 
 rubs her hands (this good old lady) in pretended glee, 
 while the child smiles faintly, and hides his little head 
 between his mother's hands. 
 
 Another knock at the door. 
 
 " I will not open it ; " said Myra, " it is only that hate- 
 ful Irishman, and I have not the money to pay him." 
 
 Again the knock — thump, thump, thump. 
 
 H I'll see, any how, before they batter down the old 
 door," added the old lady. 
 
 The poor mother presses her child to her bosom, and 
 turns her face to the wall in utter helplessness. The 
 child had fallen asleep. 
 
 A negro man stands there with a frame and hand-saw. 
 
 "I'se come, mistis, to saw up dat wood out dar." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed she, u how much is it ? " 
 
 " Two bits, mam." 
 
 " Oh ! if it's only one cent, I have it not, and this min- 
 
44 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 nte I do want the wood to cook supper. Can't you saw 
 it, and wait for the money ? " 
 
 He scratches his head, and turns his quid of tobacco 
 from one cheek to the other, spits, and looks sheepish. 
 " I would in a minit, Mistis, but my own Mistis 'quires the 
 money of me every night." 
 
 He was about to move off, when the little Clarence starts 
 up, rubs his eyes, and going to the door, says, 
 
 " Here, grandma, I have money to do everything. Get 
 the uncle there to saw up the wood ; then here is more to 
 pay for the hauling, besides enough to buy the hot bread, 
 fresh milk, and all. Now go to work, uncle, I'll settle it." 
 
 "I thought so, master; little Miss Minny Dun, down 
 dar, told me to come, and said a little chubbub (cherub), 
 or sompin of dat sort, would pay me. She call little mar - 
 ser, here, all kinds putty names and sweet things. I tell 
 you, honey, you well off on dis airth, if you got good lit- 
 tle Miss Minny for your friend." 
 
 " What is your name, uncle? " said the child, hanging 
 to his hand. 
 
 u Uncle Ned, honey. What's yourn, young Massa? " 
 
 " Mine is little Clarry ; everybody calls me little Clarry. 
 Now go to work, Uncle Ned, and I will be pay-master. 
 First cut a little bit, and make grandma a nice fire in the 
 stove to cook supper." 
 
 This was speedily done. The child goes as usual to the 
 pump for water, the old lady proceeds with her cooking, 
 while Myra sits as usual with a handkerchief over her 
 head. We do not know whether she is weeping, but we 
 do know that she is thinking and sorrowing. 
 
 When the man has placed all the wood away in the 
 kitchen, he comes in to get his pay. 
 
 " Here, Uncle Ned, but you must sit down and warm 
 yourself, while I bring you your supper. It is very nice ; 
 you never tasted anything so good as the sausages. Don't 
 they smell savory, uncle? " 
 
THE N I G II T W A T C H . 
 
 45 
 
 " Well, dey does dat. Dey does smell nice, and dat's de 
 truph ; an' I is hungry. 'Sides, I aint not got no where 
 to stop to git a crumb of nothing till I goes home to-night." 
 
 The child had it all fixed on a plate, and getting a bowl 
 of coffee, takes it in to the negro. Then he returns 
 and takes his seat at the foot of the table. He is the mas- 
 ter of the mansion; he felt that he was, and he looks 
 proudly around and seems quite happy. 
 
 The negro having finished his meal, departs. Then the 
 coal-man comes and receives his dues from Clarry's little 
 hand, who is now general purser and purveyor. 
 
 The sun is making a golden set — the promise of a 
 bright day on the morrow. He looks in, though late, 
 upon the inmates of that hovel; and his evening rays 
 penetrate and light up the somber dwelling. 
 
 " Eehold that sunbeam, Myra ! It has been gloomy, 
 cold, and dark all day. Now at the close, see that glori- 
 ous sunset. Hail it, my daughter, as a happy augury ! 
 Don't you see now. my dear, that our wants have been 
 supplied — all our exigencies met, with little or no effort 
 on our part — almost without our agency ! Now, my 
 child, will you still distrust God ? Will you not rather 
 cast all your cares on the Saviour ? " 
 
 Myra spoke not, but wept in silence. This was the 
 only way to reach that lofty spirit — that proud heart. 
 There was no other way to sound the depths, and touch 
 that self-sufficient nature. 
 
 " Here, mamma, is still a little more money." 
 
 u Where did you get it all, my love? " said the mother, 
 at last drawn from herself and her sorrows, by that sweet 
 prattler. 
 
 The little fellow recounts to them very minutely the 
 incidents of the morning. Then that embryo of all truth, 
 honor, and manliness, sinks sweetly to rest on the bosom 
 of his beautiful mother. 
 
 \ 
 
46 
 
 T H E NIGHT W A T H . 
 
 CHAPTEB VI. 
 
 HEART REVEALINGS AND THE " TRUE FRIEND." 
 
 " No thought within her bosom stirs, 
 
 But wakes some feeling dark and dread ; 
 God keep thee from a doom like hers, 
 Of living when the hopes are dead." 
 
 It is Sunday morning, with a bright, clear atmosphere, 
 and cloudless sky. That invalid old lady rises from her 
 hard, rough bed, calls her children around her, and now 
 sets up in their miclst the family altar. She blesses God 
 for existence; returns thanks to him for whatever health 
 she and those dear ones are permitted to enjoy ; for 
 strength of body and mind given them for endurance ; 
 for that shelter ; for food and raiment ; above all, for 
 redemption and the hope of salvation. Eeader, dost thou 
 think they have much reason to thank him? She thinks 
 so (that old lady), for she has the love of Christ in her 
 soul, and firmly believes that all else will be added. She 
 feels no uneasiness, no dread, for perfect love casteth out 
 all fear. 
 
 She is now in the midst of her world. She lays one 
 hand on the head of that heart-stricken young mother — 
 that once light-hearted, happy, perhaps worldly-minded, 
 but none the less crushed woman, that deeply-injured wife. 
 The other is placed on that of the sweet child by her side. 
 She invokes God's watchful care over them; she pleads 
 for a mitigation of their sorrows, if it pleaseth him ; she 
 begs for the gift of the graces of patience, submission, 
 confidence, and faith — such as can move mountains; and 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 47 
 
 concludes with the invocation for the friendship of Christ, 
 saying, " Give them this, O Father, and it is enough." 
 
 Dear old lady ! halt, lame, and almost blind ; with thy 
 unpolished ways, and thy unvarnished tongue, and maybe 
 inflexible nature : but thou meanest well, ever aiming to 
 do right. And God, thanks to his name ! is a discerner 
 of the heart ; and also of the pure gold from the glitter- 
 ing dross. He knows thou art trying to honor him, in 
 thy humble efforts to trim and keep alive thy little rush- 
 light, through all storms and tempests. 
 
 When their simple devotions were ended, they betook 
 themselves each to their different avocations. The child 
 again brings the water, while his grandmother prepares 
 the breakfast. His mother, the delicate, fastidious Myra, 
 finds work for those white hands and taper fingers, look- 
 ing, for all the world, like little pure wax candles, so 
 transparent are they in their whiteness. The feeling 
 common to her while going through these menial details, 
 is that of impatience and loathing. She sometimes flings 
 down the implements of housewifery in disgust and dis- 
 couragement, and declares that she would rather lie down 
 and die, than to pursue that life of degrading drudgery. 
 
 Her grandmother at such times, turns on her a look of 
 grieved remonstrance — not uttering a word of rebuke or 
 even gentle reproof — quietly pursuing her occupation, 
 whatever it may chance to be at the time. But one thing 
 we have noticed : after an ebullition of such feelings, for 
 that day, and the next, and one more, perhaps, provisions 
 are very scarce on that frugal board. Every comfort is 
 lopped off ; presently it dwindles down almost to nothing, 
 and they sit down to a crust and a glass of water, or 
 maybe a cup of tea, without even the few grains of sugar 
 and drops of milk allotted to each. This silent, unsus- 
 pected discipline proves salutary ; and thus matters are 
 adjusted without a word. 
 
 There is nothing so chastening to poor human nature, 
 
48 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 as hard, stern, necessity. Want and lean, lank hunger 
 will bring people to their senses, and also extract what- 
 ever latent strength of character there may he concealed 
 beneath the conventional rubbish of a worldly, superficial 
 education. Splendid suffering will not do it ; such as the 
 poor body endures, racked however much by pains, and 
 scorched by fever on a luxurious bed of down. Gilded 
 misery will not, such as sore and lacerated feelings, hid 
 away to rankle in a bruised or broken heart, beating under 
 furs and velvet, and gold and silver trappings. These will 
 not bring down a haughty spirit, or call forth strength of 
 purpose; because this very pride sustains tbe one, while 
 it enervates the other. Pride of place, pride of birth, 
 pride of person, and pride of wealth will blind its vota- 
 ries, even in death. But just let nature put in her claims, 
 the cravings and gnawings of the two vultures ; and if 
 there are any powers within, see if they do not come 
 forth and stalk abroad to do battle against the enemy, the 
 fell destroyer starvation. Or if not thus fiercely, then 
 witness the windings, the turnings, the devious ways, the 
 artifices, the subterfuges, the leaping over and crawling 
 under obstacles ; nay, the cringing and skulking, if needs 
 be, to find the means to appease these yearnings and pro- 
 pitiate the foe. 
 
 Myra did her part, when forced thus to contemplate this 
 ghastly picture ; but without alacrity, earnestness, or 
 hope. Yet she would not starve — so she worked. 
 
 " My daughter, we must attend God's sanctuary to-day. 
 This is His day, and we must endeavor to keep it suitably. 
 Therefore we must all go to church." 
 
 " I can not, grandma ! I can not go even to the Lord's 
 house, to be looked down on by those who are placed 
 above me now, by this downward turn of the wheel of 
 fortune. Besides, I have no seat, consequently no right. 
 Then I w T ill not show myself in these old, faded, tattered, 
 garments ; and you should not. if I could prevent it." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 49 
 
 M Oh, child ! your troubles have unsettled your mind, 
 and dried up all softness in your nature. Do you think 
 for a moment, that there will be any difficulty in finding 
 a place to worship God, in his own temple ? " 
 
 u I do not know, but I am not willing to risk it. I will 
 not go there to be gazed at by the heartless puppets who 
 assemble there to act a part." 
 
 u Well, I will go, and must take the child as a walking- 
 stick, and see who will insult me, or ask me out. Indeed, 
 I shall feel that I have just as good a right there as any 
 other one of the poor, crawling things on this His foot- 
 stool. I shall take the child, Myra." 
 
 u But, grandma, he is so badly dressed ; his little toes 
 and elbows are out, and his clothes are old and rusty." 
 
 " Never mind all that. Who will know us, child? 
 None will see or care for us in that vast assemblage, save 
 He, the God of glory, who when on earth had not where 
 to lay his head." 
 
 They left. Myra sat for a few moments musing deeply. 
 She thought of her altered condition ; she felt her isola- 
 tion there in that fine city ; she brooded over her wrongs, 
 her persecutions — but she did not see her own faults. 
 She did not seem to feel that she was weak, and sinful, 
 and needy* Now, as she sat there in that room, there 
 was an expression of injured feelings, wounded pride, 
 great wretchedness, excruciating suffering — but there 
 was no compunction for sin. She did not think she had 
 committed any fault which might have been the moving 
 cause of this overwhelming misery. Perhaps she had not. 
 God knows : we do not. She broods over her condition, 
 her position in the world, until her heart seems to collapse ; 
 but her brain grows hot, and feels full. The impulse 
 comes on her to rush away ; to flee from the haunts of 
 men ; to hide and be at rest. 
 
 " Motion — motion I must have — air and motion. 
 Oh ! for the power to soar, to take wings, and fly 
 5 
 
50 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 away from all familiar places. My God! what shall I 
 do? Eemain here, and my brain maddens." 
 
 She rushes to the door, tugs madly at the old bolt, and 
 flings it wide open. Then she is admonished, by rude, 
 gaping looks, that there is no silence, no seclusion there — 
 no sepulchral gloom, such as her feelings covet, to be 
 found on that thoroughfare. 
 
 One person, more impertinent than the rest, approaches 
 her ; she slams the door to, in his face, with such force as 
 to shake the whole edifice to its foundation. 
 
 " Oh ! where shall I go ? Where shall I fly, to get 
 away, far away from all, but more particularly from 
 myself. Alas ! I have no place. The narrow conrpass of 
 these walls comprise my world at present, and this only 
 for a short time perhaps, and that by sufferance. Oh ! 
 my God ! what have I done, thus to deserve thy hot 
 displeasure ! " 
 
 After rushing across the room a score of times, she stops 
 as if to think, folds her arms, and walks with a slow T and 
 measured pace to and fro in that prison-house. 
 
 Presently she seats herself before her little w r ork-table, 
 and takes from its draw T er a blank-book in which she 
 w T rites rapidly, and without intermission, for a short time. 
 Then she leans back in her chair, looking pale and worn, 
 as if tired of all things. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, my dear journal! thou art a true friend. I 
 can speak to thee in confidence. Thou dost never prate 
 of the o'erfraught heart, w 7 hen in its desperation it has 
 entrusted thee with its revealings. From the hour that I 
 first felt myself so aggrieved, I have poured out to thee 
 my plaints. Still thou art very patient ; thou dost not 
 tire of my wailings, like other friends. I have confided 
 to thee my most hidden thoughts. See, they have swelled 
 into such a book. Thou hast helped, and still must help 
 me to bridle this untamed nature. For a week past I have 
 had much to humble me ; and I thought this turbulent 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 51 
 
 spirit had been broken. Not so : I find it still as ungov- 
 ernable, and as hard on the bit as the ' wild Arab 
 steed.' My grandmother chides, and exhorts, and prays 
 for me. But she speaks to dull ears ; I can not understand 
 her philosophy. She, dear, single-minded, perhaps delu- 
 ded old lady, finds out some blessing in eve^thing. She 
 says she can trace the finger of God in all, and believes it 
 will eventuate in good. She quotes texts after texts, 
 which she calls promises ; seems to expect me to embrace 
 and apply them all ; is hurt that I can not see with her 
 eyes, and have faith, or trust, or hope, or something else, 
 all equally a riddle to me. 
 
 " In the school of religion where I w^as taught — not 
 Christ, but the church, the high church — they did not 
 dive so deeply into the subject as my good grandmother 
 does. We skimmed very smoothly and lightly over the 
 surface ; and were in the church because it was reputable 
 to be a member of one of those aristocratic congregations, 
 and also to have a seat in this or that gilded or Gothic 
 structure. She holds strange doctrines, too ; such as 
 1 When two or three are met together in the name of 
 Christ,, there shall his temple be ; ' that an altar set up on 
 the hill side, or on the mountain top, or in a cave, or 
 even under a green tree, is equally the sanctuary of the 
 Lord of Hosts. I was not taught this. I only thought of 
 His presence when the organ pealed, the choir chanted, 
 and when his vicegerent thundered his anathemas from the 
 sacred desk, or made the invocation through the Litany. 
 I wish I could feel thus. Alas ! I can not. My thoughts 
 are taken up with my situation, the injustice of this hard 
 decree, which separates me from the world ; the cruelty 
 of man, far more merciless than wild beasts, for they do 
 show some signs of feeling for their offspring. ISTor do 
 they always prey upon their own species. 
 
 " But this good old grandmother of mine can see beau- 
 ties in all things, while to me the deformities are only 
 
52 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 obvious. She thanks God day by day for blessings which 
 seem to me to be curses. What want I with existence? 
 What is life to me now ? What does it bring me each 
 rising of the sun, but contumely, hardship, want, and a 
 prospect of starvation, — each going down of the same, but 
 a feeling of destitution, a couch watered with tears, sleep- 
 less, or if not sleepless, then heavy and dreamless nights." 
 
 She gets up and takes her place by the window, and looks 
 out on the passers by, seeming somewhat subdued and 
 calmer. The old rickety door swings open, grating harsh- 
 ly on its rusty hinges. The good grandmother and bright 
 little boy enter. 
 
 " Ah ! here you are, my hope, my joy, my life ! " 
 
 The child rushes to his mother, throws two little cling- 
 ing hands around her neck, and nestles in her lap. Then 
 untwining those supple arms, he places his little hard 
 hands on her peach-blossom cheeks, and draws her down 
 to him, kissing her fondly, as he says, looking timidly at 
 the old lady, " Dear mamma, I'm so glad you did not go 
 to church. A great, big, grand-looking lady, dressed so 
 finely, came storming into the pew, and asked — — " 
 
 u Hush ! hush boy — you must not say ugly things to- 
 day. Let all things appear pretty and peaceful on Sun- 
 day. Never mind what passed in the church, there is 
 enough to be thankful for any how. Come, darling, and 
 help grandma to patch up a nice little Sunday dinner. 
 Your mother has been dreaming again. See, she has let 
 the fire go out. Now, my baby, run and get me some 
 water. Presently we shall be as happy as kings and 
 princes ; nay, more so, for they always do lack one thing, 
 the one jewel in their crowns is wanting, and the absence 
 of this embitters all else." 
 
 Myra is again wrapped in revery. Something has oc- 
 curred in the street, or she has seen some one to disturb 
 her tranquillity, a moment ago, and she seems strangely 
 disconcerted and greatly agitated. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 SCENES IN THE SANCTUARY. 
 
 " What is a church? Our honest sexton tells, 
 'Tis a tall building with tower and bells." 
 
 " Where some are thinkm' on their sins, 
 And sume upon their claes ; 
 Ane curses feet that fyVd his shins, 
 Anither sighs and prays." 
 
 When tlie old lady and child arrived at the church, and 
 entered the vestibule of one of those stately edifices where 
 the rich and the grand, and the proud, mock God in their 
 attempts to worship him in pomp and state, there were 
 but few persons yet arrived, for the hour was early, and 
 the bells had not yet chimed the last peal. A pursy, bea- 
 dle-looking man stood there. The old lady divined his 
 office at a glance, for she understood all these things, hav- 
 ing been but a short time since a respected member of a 
 more magnificent church than that, and also accustomed 
 to as much opulence as any who essayed to pray there. 
 
 The man looked at the coarse, plain dress, the old, 
 crumpled bonnet, and faded shawl ; then glanced at the 
 little boy, without cloak or overcoat, standing there shiv- 
 ering (for these very fine churches are oftentimes cold 
 places), and made up his mind that they were paupers, 
 who had come to extract the pittance from the rich pew- 
 holders ; therefore he pointed over his shoulder with his 
 thumb to a certain corner set apart for such persons. 
 But she turned from him, and walked up the long aisle. 
 Seeing a pew door open, she entered, and with the child 
 takes her seat in the far corner. They dropped on their 
 
54 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 knees, and prayed fervently to Him who knows all our 
 wants before we have spoken, but has only promised to 
 give unto those who ask. 
 
 The burden of the child's prayer, after he had said, 
 " Our Father," was, " O Lord ! bless my beautiful 
 mother and my good grandmother, and my friend, Miss 
 Emma, and the good little Minny, and Uncle Ned ; and, 
 O Lord ! if it please thee, don't let my grandmother 
 scold my poor dear mother so much ; but any how I be- 
 seech thee, my kind Father, to bless 'em both. Amen." 
 
 Now he rises from his knees, takes his seat by the old 
 lady ; but there is a troubled expression on that purely 
 transparent countenance — an uneasy, maybe a slightly 
 alarmed look. He again drops on his knees. At that 
 moment the child was the only kneeling figure in the 
 house. He did not care ; he, baby as he was, aimed to 
 please God and not the congregation. In his noble disin- 
 terestedness, his almost divine unselfishness, and his anx- 
 iety to invoke blessings on his friends, he had failed to 
 implore aid for himself. He had been taught by that old 
 lady — she with the coarse, rough shell enshrining such a 
 sweet kernel — that he could not live properly or happily 
 without God's assistance day by day. 
 
 Now that vast assembly kneel. The solemn, dignified 
 successor to the apostolic office is at the altar. 
 
 When they are again seated, a haughty, over-dressed, 
 but handsome woman, with a pale, quiet-looking young 
 man at her elbow, comes in, and touching the old lady, 
 signs to her to leave the pew. She does not understand. 
 She never dreamed that such a feeling could have birth in 
 the human breast. What ! refuse to a stranger a seat in 
 God's own mansion ! She could not suppose such a mon- 
 strosity. She hands her the prayer-book, and smiles 
 innocently at the grand lady, who in return scowls down 
 on her, and again motions to her to go out, adding, " I 
 want my seat." The poor old lady rises, and taking the 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 55 
 
 child by the hand, totters feebly out. Her agitation and 
 her infirmity make her progress down the aisle slow. Ere 
 she reaches the door, she is arrested. A gentleman, whose 
 pew is opposite to that of the lady of such haughty mien, 
 and who has witnessed the whole procedure, now comes out, 
 and darting one glance of keen reproach at her, follows the 
 old woman and child. When he has arrested her atten- 
 tion, by touching her lightly on the arm, he bows respect- 
 fully, and begs her to return and take a seat with him; 
 which they do. After showing them in, he follows, sit- 
 ting down by the child. The service proceeds. 
 
 The full, deep-toned organ sends forth its solemn peals, 
 mingling with the rich melody of human voices. The 
 embassador of Christ again stands at the altar in his 
 sacerdotal robes, and there before him stands that vast 
 congregation of immortal souls, combining all the ele- 
 ments of human nature requisite to make up a world. 
 Who, if endued with omniscience, would dare to look into 
 the hiding-places of those seven hundred human hearts ? 
 Methinks it would be a fearful sight — a loathsome spec- 
 tacle. Alas ! who can have the courage to contemplate 
 the workings of his own deceitful and desperately wicked 
 nature. 
 
 Here, then, are kneeling, and bowing, and genuflect- 
 ing, and chanting, and praying, and praising, all respon- 
 sive to that chaste and beautiful liturgy; as I have said, 
 seven hundred beating hearts, all apparently solemn and 
 grand. How many of them, think you, dear reader, were 
 blameless in the sight of G-od ? |he who reads the heart? 
 Why was that poor old crippled woman required to give 
 up her place ? Think you that haughty one had a right 
 to make a distinction? to draw the dividing line there 
 in the temple of the Almighty? Will it be thus before 
 the judgment seat, when the seventh seal shall be opened? 
 What then will be the relative position of these three 
 members of Christ's church ? 
 
56 
 
 T HE NIGH T W A T C H 
 
 Now the service is ended, the benediction is pronounced, 
 and the crowd is dispersing. The gentleman stoops down 
 and inquires of the gentle child if he lives in the city. 
 
 "Yes, sir. Won't you go home with me and see my 
 mother ? I want my dear mamma to help me thank you 
 for your politeness to poor grandma." There was a dew- 
 drop in those sweet, upturned, violet eyes, and a tremu- 
 lousness in his soft voice. 
 
 " Thank you, my little man, it would afford me much 
 pleasure. Where shall we find her ? " 
 
 " I will show you. Come with me," and he held on to 
 the gentleman's hand. 
 
 This little dialogue had been carried on in a low voice, 
 but there was a pair of keen, envious, jealous ears kept 
 wide open to catch each vibration of the music which fell 
 from the innocent lips of that sweet prattler. She noticed 
 that look of admiration on the part of the gentleman; 
 she witnessed with a pang his respectful attentions to that 
 insulted old lady ; and then she would have given half of 
 her fine estate if she could have revoked her conduct. 
 She would almost have consented to change places with 
 that lowly, outraged one. Beneath velvet, satin, and furs 
 there beat a heart that day whose every throb was one 
 prolonged agony. She stood still as the little pany 
 slowly defiled from the church. She placed herself in the 
 way of this grandly handsome man, who was now as cold 
 and stern to her as she herself had been to the woman. 
 He gave back no look of recognition. His eyes fell on 
 her face as if for the first time. 
 
 Now she offers the morning salutation, expecting him to 
 join her — that proud lady. He slightly bows and passes 
 on. The new friends separate themselves from that gay 
 throng, leave the fashionable promenades, and strike off 
 into a less frequented walk. Presently they arrive at the 
 humble dwelling. The gentleman looks greatly surprised ; 
 he shakes hands with the little boy, bows to the old lady, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 57 
 
 and is about to pass on ; the child clings to his hand and 
 begs him to come in and see his mother. He declines, 
 but promises to call soon. 
 
 As he passes the window, there is a face pressed against 
 the glass. He starts violently. It is a face of such super- 
 human beauty that he involuntarily exclaimed, " Surely 
 it is a dream of poetry ! She can not be mortal ! " 
 
 A man with a rough bear-skin coat and coarse furs saw 
 that start, and marked the look. Some little distance 
 back there is a haughty but apparently troubled beauty, 
 somewhat in advance of a pale, quiet-looking young man, 
 who sees the start and notes the look. He sees it too ; 
 and the sweet, innocent cause of all this interest sees the 
 start, the sudden halt and drawing up before that old, 
 one-sided, creeling window. 
 
 At first she smiled brightly ; then some memory seemed 
 to sweep over her mind, and her face flushed, then paled, 
 as if from deadly sickness. She turns despairingly away 
 from the window, and her head droops on her breast. 
 
 Meantime that slight semblance of a man at the side 
 of the proud la*dy institutes quite a catechism. We know 
 not whether with a view to annoy or entertain. He haz- 
 ards many comments on the w r eather, etc., all to as lit- 
 tle purpose. She heeds him not; still hurrying on. The 
 youthful lover smiles sarcastically. 
 
 They are now before that old house where they saw 
 the old lady and child disappear. A wicked thrill of ex- 
 ultation ran through her frame as she viewed the premi- 
 ses ; taking in all at a glance. She then marks with a 
 curious eye the old, tattered curtain at the window. 
 Above all, the rude sign over the door fills her heart with 
 delight. ''Fashionable Dress-maker, from New York." 
 She points to it, and looking at the young man, laughs 
 scornfully. He is silent. 
 
 ISTow it so turned out that by an irresistible impulse, 
 Myra is again at the window, and when the proud 
 
58 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 beauty arrives there, she also stops with a start and sud- 
 den halt. 
 
 Intense envy, jealous rage, and fiendish hatred are the 
 inmates of her breast. Oh ! what commotion and strife 
 are raging there ; but all is still and deep, like the hushed 
 storm when garnering its strength ere it descends to do 
 its fell work of destruction. When she arrives at her 
 own mansion, she waves her companion into the parlor, 
 and rushes to her own room. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 59 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE DINNER PARTY. 
 
 " Their various cares in one great point combine 
 The business of their lives, that is — to dine/' 
 
 u I own that nothing like good cheer succeeds — 
 A man's a God whose hogshead freely bleeds ; 
 Champagne can consecrate the damnedst evil ; 
 A hungry parasite adores a devil." 
 
 When this proud beauty finds herself alone, she flings 
 the door to, with a force which shakes the whole edifice. 
 She now commences tearing off those costly adornments. 
 The gaudy, senseless, trappings of wealth, which are em- 
 ployed as ministers to the Court of Fashion, and are 
 always the faithful insignia of folly. When she is disen- 
 cumbered she throws herself down on the sofa with the 
 utmost abandon, and indulges the following monologue : 
 
 " Well ! I have done for myself! Fool, fool, that I am. 
 It is all over between us now ! I saw it in his look ! 'Twas 
 written on that lofty brow — that nervous upper lip. The 
 icy glance, the freezing manner, told me that he not 
 only resented my conduct to that old wretch, but that he 
 heartily despised me. Oh ! why did I not remember how 
 strange he is about such things ! Then I might have 
 choked down the natural loathing I feel for poverty. I 
 could, to please him, have endured her presence for so 
 short a time. But it never entered my head ; the possi- 
 bility of such a thing as sitting in my own pew alongside 
 of a beggar ! I was not taught this ; I feel no impulse 
 moving me to it ; I remember no precept or example of 
 
60 
 
 T H E NIGHT W ATOM, 
 
 the sort, and the circle in which I move furnishes no pre- 
 cedent. What ! who would ever think of such a thing as 
 the mingling of luxurious wealth with squalid misery! 
 I wish he would not hold such crude, obsolete principles : 
 c That you must give to paupers in a particular way, with 
 discrimination and delicacy.' How troublesome and 
 absurd! I take them u en masse. 71 Everybody must 
 know that their hearts are dried up ; their sensibilities 
 pinched to a mere speck ; and all sensations, save such as 
 are employed to exact, are squeezed out by their mode 
 of life. Still he will talk about the manner and kind 
 words being worth more to mendicants than the real sub- 
 stance. 
 
 " Pshaw ! he is a fool — a greater one even than I am. 
 I would not have hesitated to give that old hag, and that 
 upstart boy, ten, twenty, or even fifty dollars, had they 
 
 asked charity of me on street — I might even have 
 
 spared more, had a subscription been handed by somebody. 
 Nay, I would have given a hundred to please him. But 
 I fear the jig's up now — I was taken so by surprise — I 
 did not know that the amenities of life were to be 
 extended to old beggar women and little ragged urchins. 
 
 " Oh ! how proudly disdainful he looked, when he 
 vouchsafed me that one cold glance ; and then to follow 
 the old wretch home ! I hate her, because I have mal- 
 treated her. He is to dine here to-day — I will then try 
 to extenuate my conduct. After all, this may not be so 
 hard to do. Half a million of dollars is a good thick veil, 
 and there are very few persons whose spectacles magnify 
 sufficiently to show faults through it. From under plain, 
 coarse, and tattered garments, small vices peep out ; but 
 robes and splendid mantles cover up all sins, even great 
 ones. 
 
 " These same robes have done me good service — hiding 
 my faults from others ; but they, nor vanity, nor self-love, 
 can conceal them from my own mental inspection. When 
 
THE N I G H T W A T C H . 61 
 
 the mind is forced to take cognizance of the heart's work- 
 ings, and the still small voice within says, 'deeper — 
 deeper — dive deeper — look into, and read what is writ- 
 ten there. Self — self — self Yet this does not prevent 
 conscience from discharging her duty faithfully — and 
 there is a time when all must listen." 
 
 The street-door bell rings. She rises hurriedly, and 
 shaking off those somber feelings, rings impatiently for 
 her maid. When she comes, the lady puts on the same 
 imperial manner with which she had waved the old lady 
 from the pew. The still small voice is hushed now. It 
 is rarely listened to in the crowded halls. 
 
 " Ann, have the gentlemen arrived? " 
 
 "What say, ma'am?" 
 
 She raves at her — "I say have the gentleman come yet? 
 You stupid dolt, why don't you answer? Have any of 
 the gentlemen come yet? " 
 
 " Oh, oh. ~No — no, ma'am, not yit — only Mr. Gaines, 
 what followed you from the church." 
 
 The bell rings again. 
 
 "Look, Ann," said the beauty, very calmly, for she 
 would have considered that it was compromising her- 
 self to show the least bit of feeling, save anger, before a 
 servant. 
 
 The girl returns, saying, " It aint nobody but Mrs. 
 Calderwood and her set." 
 
 "Well, come help me to dress, Ann," said the lady, 
 with a weary, disappointed look. " It is very early ; I 
 wonder why these people have forestalled the hour of 
 dining. It is quite annoying, and a great liberty to take." 
 
 " ISTow, Miss Guttrude, you know this ain't not one of 
 the grand days for grand dinner parties. 'Taint one of 
 the reg'lar fine times what we haves sometimes. This is 
 only Sunday, and they don't care much what they do 
 here on a Sunday. We can't make no great have-to-do on 
 the Sabbath, you know." 
 
62 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 The bell rings, rings, rings — the lady seems slightly 
 flurried ; which the negro marks down in her tablets. 
 u Go see again, Ann." 
 
 But before the maid can obey her imperial mistress, 
 there is a rap at the door. A footman enters, bowing. 
 
 " Maj. Lindsay send he compliments to you, ma'am, and 
 beg you will do him de favor to give him de pleasure of 
 your company in the drawing-room, where all the ladies 
 and gemmen 'sembled, waiting the presence of the queen 
 ob the 'casion." 
 
 She takes no notice of this set speech, meant to be 
 facetious. 
 
 " Has Col. Murray come in yet, boy? " 
 
 " JSTo, ma'am, the Kernel aint come in yit ; but we 'spect 
 him the very next pull." 
 
 " Tell my father, Eobert, that I am not quite ready — 
 will soon join him." 
 
 The negro stares at her, seeing that her toilette is com- 
 pleted, and she is looking particularly elegant. 
 
 ]N"ow there is another message from Major Lindsay, 
 which forces the lady to appear among the guests, whom 
 she greets cordially (although that day she hates them 
 every one), and then goes through the intricate conven- 
 tionalities in the most unexceptionable manner. 
 
 She smiles, too ; and you can not discover on that smooth 
 surface anything to denote the troubled under-current. 
 Only sometimes a sudden raising of the eyes and a quiet 
 turning toward the door as it opened to admit guest after 
 guest on that Sunday afternoon. There is no nervous 
 starting, no piercing glance, as if she would rend the 
 oaken pannels ere they have time to swing on their 
 smooth hinges. She plays the well-bred lady to the same 
 kind of audience; according to their own code of good 
 breeding and etiquette — which is a constitution of forms 
 without feeling, words without meaning, and show r with- 
 out substance. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. ()3 
 
 But he comes not ! Mr. Gaines, our quondam acquaint- 
 ance, hands this pet of society to the head of the splendid 
 board. When there, she acquits herself in the most 
 approved manner. He comes not ! and there is darkness 
 in her soul, but no shadow on her brow. Meantime they 
 chatter on, laugh, discourse politics, literature, fashions, 
 the drama ; some Garrick or Kemble in embryo ; some 
 ephemeral poet, or rather poetaster ; then religion — Oh 
 no, not religion, but the church, the minister, the sermon, 
 the congregation, etc. 
 
 Miss Lindsay is inquired of about the sermon ; the ques- 
 tion is repeated ; she looks up, and tries to recover herself; 
 her thoughts are wandering, they are with him, for still 
 "he comes not." She has not heard one word of the con- 
 versation. She did not hear that discourse from the 
 pulpit, yet she replies to the question, 
 
 " Oh ! very well, indeed." 
 
 " Daughter, what was the text? " says Major Lindsay. 
 
 She looks to her friend on the left, saying, " My father 
 is so primitive and tiresome. "Who cares or thinks about 
 the text." 
 
 That father is not to be silenced, for he is a Lindsay, and 
 a Scotchman. He repeats the question, slightly frowning. 
 " I say, Gertrude, what was the text? " 
 
 Now that proud eye quails before the stern, rigid, 
 Scotch brow, and she answers deprecatingly, "I do not 
 know, papa ; I have forgotten. I don't think he stuck to 
 his text." 
 
 " You mean, you did not take to it, Gertrude. That's 
 about it." 
 
 The lady bit her lip, fiercely. She knew that she 
 always found her match in her father, at whatever game 
 they played. Lindsay pitted against Lindsay ; " Then 
 comes the tug of war." 
 
 " I do not think it matters much, Miss Lindsay, whether 
 you listened or not. He was decidedly personal \ and all 
 
64 
 
 T II E N 1 G H T W A T C H . 
 
 sensible people must pronounce that to be in very bad 
 taste," rejoined Mr. Gaines. 
 " How so ? " inquired some one. 
 
 " Well, I rather think so. He talked, you know, so 
 much against the rich and high, in this world, that one 
 would almost conclude, that it was a sin to be either one 
 or the other. Then he said, poor beggars here, were to 
 inherit the kingdom. In conclusion, he launched out into 
 a long tirade about Dives and Lazarus, and a great deal 
 more which I have forgotten — but I know I thought him 
 very personal." 
 
 He stopped suddenly, having received the look which said 
 " hush, you have talked enough." No worshiper of nature 
 ever studied her face more assiduously, in order to learn 
 the presage of the weather, than did this youth the coun- 
 tenance of his mistress, that he might discern the symp- 
 toms of the coming storm. Now he sees a little cloud in 
 the distance, "Not larger than a man's hand ; " but it is 
 there gathering, gathering ! He feels he must abide it, 
 for it will surely break over his devoted head, ere long. 
 
 Major Lindsay is quick-sighted. He sees that Gaines 
 is discomfited. "What is it, Gertrude? What does he 
 mean? " said he. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, father ; I heard nothing of the sort," 
 said she. 
 
 It happened that Dr. Mercer had chosen for his subject 
 that day, this short but pithy text, " Grind not the faces 
 of the poor." In the portraiture of character, and the 
 delineation of certain features, he did seem to describe the 
 prominent traits belonging to our haughty beauty. And 
 Mr. Gaines had made the application with great justice. 
 The doctor had witnessed the dumb show enacted in the 
 pew of the aristocratic lady — for millionaires do occupy 
 high seats in the church, as well as in the synagogue, and 
 their actions are scanned. The good minister being 
 armed with the sword of the spirit, did lay on manfully ; 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 65 
 
 he generally wielded this weapon with great strength. 
 But to-day his thrusts are deep. It is also true, that 
 Master Shallow, in the person of Mr. Josiah G-aines, had 
 suffered himself to be taken captive (at least his atten- 
 tion), and so he concluded that the person in the sacred 
 desk had aimed those blows at his divinity. 
 
 "What was the text?" again asked the major, with a 
 merry twinkle in his eye. " Come, Mrs. Calderwood ; 
 speak, madam." 
 
 " Pray, do not ask me ; I was too busy watching a scene 
 which was being enacted just before me. I could see nor 
 hear nothing else." 
 
 " What was it, Miss Emma ? " said the jovial host, rub- 
 bing his hands. 
 
 " Indeed, Major Lindsay, I have forgotten. I did hear 
 it, and thought I would mark it down in my memory, 
 well knowing that you would call on me at dinner as 
 usual ; but indeed, sir, my attention was so taken up with 
 that beautiful boy in the next pew " 
 
 " What was it, Calderwood?" 
 
 u Ah ! friend Lindsay, you are too hard for me now. In 
 truth I did not hear it. /was watching Murray, as he 
 played the agreeable to an old beggar, whom he had 
 gathered somewhere from the hedges and highways." 
 
 The major continued thus to interrogate them, his 
 merry mood increasing with each one's discomfiture, until 
 he rubs his hands together, and laughs with great glee. 
 
 " Well, upon my w r ord, you pay our good divine a high 
 compliment. Each one of you seems to have had some- 
 thing else before you more interesting than the preacher 
 and his subject." 
 
 He now turns, still chuckling, to Mrs. Green. 
 
 " I will not ask you, madam, because I think I know 
 what takes you to church, and what you always have 
 before you. But suffer me to pass on to my gentle friend, 
 your daughter. Miss Maiy. what did you see right before 
 6 
 
66 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 you, to take your mind off the text ? Was it Mrs. Calder- 
 wood's scene, or Miss Emma's cherub, or Murray's play- 
 ing Don Quixotte to Calderwood's pauper, or the grandly 
 handsome colonel, himself, or poor old Doctor Mercer's 
 bald head?" 
 
 " All, sir," replied Mary Green, blushing. 
 
 u All ? Then of course you did not hear the text." 
 
 " No : no, of course not," shouted the younger members 
 of the company. 
 
 u Ah! "cried Emma, exultingly; "Mary is defaulter, 
 at last." 
 
 "You are all mistaken," added she, while a beautiful 
 carnation overspread her face, " I did hear." 
 
 " Then let us hear," exclaimed the company. She is 
 silent, and her lids droop over those plaintive blue eyes. 
 
 Her mother looks encouragingly at her. Speak, my 
 love. Never be backward to raise your voice in such a 
 cause." 
 
 When this little stream of polite mirthfulness has run 
 its course, she looks up modestly, and says, " You are all 
 mistaken ; I do know. I both heard and understood, and 
 now I remember — but I take no praise to myself for this, 
 Major, as there was really nothing to distract my atten- 
 tion." She then repeated the text, chapter, and verse. 
 
 The major, seeing the company look blank, and under- 
 standing that there might now ensue an awkward silence, 
 added, " But from your own confession, we believe that 
 you saw all these things. Come, tell me how you man- 
 aged to escape their influence. But first recount to me 
 all about this Sunday drama. Indeed, I should like very 
 much to hear a version of it, from each member of the 
 board. I only premise that you shall be sworn as usual, 
 to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
 truth." 
 
 This was unanimously agreed to ; and Mrs. Calderwood 
 being the first lady on the right, is first called on. 
 
T m E NIGH T W A T H H7 
 
 " I had taken my seat," says the lady, " after getting 
 through with the first prayers, when there comes hobbling 
 up the aisle, a miserable, mean, hag-looking, old woman, 
 and takes her seat in " 
 
 A violent pressure on the toe causes her to stop, and 
 look up at the beautiful hostess ; she meets that glance 
 which, like an electric shock, is felt and understood. Then 
 all is again bland and smiling; but the eyes smile only; 
 the rich vermilion lips are compressed so tightly between 
 those pearly teeth, that presently, when she is compelled 
 to open them to reply to Mrs. Calderwood's " Did you 
 speak to me, Miss Lindsay ? " they are covered with blood. 
 And now the lips essay to wreathe themselves into a like 
 expression. 
 
 Mrs. C. has taken the hint, and not a word about the 
 pew escapes her; she only adds, " She was an impertinent, 
 and hateful-looking old wretch." 
 
 Emma looked around as she exclaimed, u Oh ! mamma, 
 don't say that ; she made no such impression on me. I 
 
 only noticed how hurt she looked when she was told " 
 
 a pinch on the arm arrests her, and she ended by saying, 
 curtly enough, " I mean, I was so engrossed with the beau- 
 tiful boy." 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Green, we will take your deposition." 
 
 " I did not see anything of all this. I saw no beggar 
 so loathsome, nor boy so supernaturally beautiful." 
 
 "Miss Mary, Miss Mary, we want your testimony. 
 What did you see?" 
 
 " I saw what our friends here have deposed to ; besides, 
 I saw, as you say, Doctor Mercer's bald head and my 
 prayer book, which I think they did not see. Then I 
 saw a pale, feeble-looking old lady and a sweet child get 
 up, as if they would leave the church, and walk down the 
 long aisle. The old lady tottered, and leaned on the shoul- 
 der of the bright, beautiful boy, as if scarce able to stand 
 without this little support. Then I saw Colonel Murray 
 
68 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 follow, and having overtaken them, he bow T s to the old lady 
 as if she had been Yictoria or Miss Lindsay. After whieh, 
 they all returned together, and were seated in the colo- 
 nel's pew, where they sat quite still, seeming to be wholly 
 engrossed with the service, and afterward absorbed in the 
 sermon. Then I " 
 
 " That will do, my dear. Major Lindsay only wants to 
 see how differently different persons see the same objects. 
 Yes, and now I insist on hearing what you yourself saw." 
 
 "Well, to begin, I did not see any old hag hobbling up 
 the aisle ; nor did I see anywhere in that house any one 
 resembling a pauper. All these novelties in Doctor Mer- 
 cer's church I missed. But I saw a plainly dressed, but 
 strictly decent old lady. True, her shawl was faded, and 
 her bonnet seemed to have been made acquainted with 
 narrow places. But her countenance was placid, and 
 revealed, no doubt, what her heart felt, religion and love 
 to Christ. No one can look abject to my eyes, who bears 
 that seal." 
 
 " Whose pew did she leave? " asked Lindsay 
 
 No reply. 
 
 It is repeated. 
 
 Silence still. The red spot is on the proud lady's cheek, 
 and her pearly teeth are again discolored with a deeper hue. 
 A servant hands his master a note, which he reads aloud : 
 
 " Col. Murray hopes his friend, Maj. Lindsay, will 
 excuse his absence from his hospitable board to-day. 
 Unforeseen circumstances cause his non-attendance. Ac- 
 cept his regrets. Eespectfully, 
 
 C. C. Murray." 
 
 u Well, this is as cool as the day, and as short as your 
 pie-crust, Gertrude. Did you see and speak with him 
 to-day, daughter? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I spoke to him, the morning salutations 
 merely, in passing." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 69 
 
 " Come, pass the wine, Gaines. Ladies, here is hoping 
 we may have the pleasure of passing together many more 
 such Sundays." Gertrude quietly sets down the glass, the 
 wine untasted. 
 
 They now adjourn to the drawing-room ; as the gentle- 
 men are not invited to linger over their cups ; this making 
 the only difference between that and other festive days. 
 
 Maj. Lindsay is a Scotchman by birth, and left Edin- 
 burgh when a mere youth. He seems to have lost all recol- 
 lection of the Presbyterian mode of Sabbath - keeping 
 there. His sojourn in the United States, and his residence 
 principally in Southern cities, had obliterated all fervent 
 love for kirk ; and now he and his family show themselves 
 once on every Sunday at church; then go home and pass 
 the day as above described. He has many of the national 
 traits of the Scot f is rather cold and somewhat stern; 
 unbending and unflinching where duty is recognized, des- 
 titute of all vanity, somewhat selfish, has that sort of 
 pride which places him above the possibility of doing a 
 mean or a little action. He might be moved to commit a 
 crime on a grand scale — at least there are circumstances 
 w T hich would extenuate a great fault — but never a petty 
 one. He could not pardon a mean act or a petty cruelty. 
 He would also have gone to the stake for religion or con- 
 science sake, provided there was a showing of maganim- 
 ity or sublimity in the action. But he knew nothing of 
 those quiet virtues which win their way and are always 
 ready for use. He only felt the impulse to practice such 
 as walked abroad at noonday. Still he was immeasura- 
 bly better than his beautiful daughter, even in such graces 
 as should adorn the female character. Hence the dread 
 the lady felt to have her conduct known to her father. 
 
 The company now all dispersed to their respective places 
 of abode, where we will presently pay each one a visit 
 after they have taken off their masks. 
 
70 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DIVERS SCENES IN SUNDRY PLACES. 
 
 " 0, many a shaft at random sent, 
 Finds mark the archer never meant ; 
 And many a word at random spoken, 
 May soothe or bruise the heart that's broken." 
 
 Three persons are sitting together in a handsome and 
 comfortable parlor, the hour being nine o'clock, p. m : an 
 exceedingly handsome man, a sweet Hebe-looking child, 
 and a precise, rather fantastic lady, somewhat passed mid- 
 dle age, of medium size, and possessing traces of rare 
 beauty even at the present time. This lady is dressed in 
 the hight of the fashion, with great care and some taste. 
 The clever ones have reported her to be sixty or more, 
 but this evening she is looking about forty years old. 
 Yet she is the true mother of that magnificently dark and 
 grandly handsome man, and the grandmother of the pretty 
 sylph-like creature, Genevieve Murray. The child is sit- 
 ting on her father's knee, with one little, plump, white 
 arm twined around his neck, while with the other dim- 
 pled, baby hand she is playing with those rich clustering 
 curls as black as the sloe ; ever and anon burying the same 
 little rosy tips in his luxuriant whiskers and moustache. 
 Sweet prattler. 
 
 " Papa, why don't you look at me sometimes? Aint I 
 as pretty as the fire? Look at me, papa, pray do, instead 
 of always watching the red hot coals. I wonder that ter- 
 rible blazing fire don't melt your eyes, papa. Tivvysays 
 when we die, that we've all got to lie down in a hot bed 
 of coals for awhile. Oh ! papa, aint that scary ? " 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 71 
 
 He heeds not that sweet little mouth, as it lisps out those 
 words ; his mind seems to be closed, and thought has 
 given place to memory — the mind's mirror, wherein 
 sometimes fearful things are reflected. See how that 
 fine face is marred, look how those perfectly defined 
 arches are contracted, how that smooth and expansive 
 forehead is corrugated with lines drawn in it by inten- 
 sified feeling. 
 
 The lady across the table is reading (or seeming to) by 
 a splendid burner, whose light is brought down to her 
 through a handsome gilt tube. She asserts herself to be 
 near , or short sighted. Ha ! ha ! ha ! that's the way when 
 ladies arrive at a certain age, or no age; they are apt to 
 grow short-sighted. A costly eye-glass, depending from 
 a Maltese chain of exquisite workmanship, is held to her 
 eyes. She seems to experience a sort of unrest, which 
 induces a constant looking away from her book, to gaze 
 on her son, who still sits there with the little girl in his 
 arms, sunk in revery. 
 
 A servant enters and hands him a letter. He puts down 
 the child, approaches the table, and reads it. Now a still 
 darker and more lowering cloud o'erspreads his face. 
 
 " Murray, why did you not dine with Major Lindsay, 
 on last Sunday, as usual?" says his mother, looking 
 sharply at him. 
 
 " I could not, madam," answered the son, with a very 
 freezing look. 
 
 The mother knew there was no appeal from that look. 
 All the avenues of information were then closed. 
 
 He rings the bell, and when his servant appears, orders 
 his cloak, cane, and cap. When he has received them 
 from the boy he leaves the house. 
 
72 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Major Lindsay throws down his newspaper, as Ann, 
 the lady's maid enters. 
 
 " Ask your young mistress to do me the favor to come 
 down. I am waiting to see her." 
 
 The girl hesitates, and the major, stamping his foot, 
 rips out a heathenish sort of oath, and bids her begone. 
 
 In the meantime, he walks up and down that large 
 room, muttering to himself, " I had well nigh forgotten ; 
 I must find out what all this talk is about. A feeble old 
 woman being turned out of a pew. I thought Gertrude 
 evinced some feeling ; a great deal for her, even through 
 that iron mask which she puts on sometimes, when she 
 wishes to conceal w r hat she is thinking about — what wrong 
 she has been perpetrating against some poor body. But 
 I trust no daughter of mine could have been guilty of 
 this exercise of petty power. Confusion seize me ! but I 
 could not forgive this mean arrogance, because of fortuit- 
 ous advantage over the feeble and indigent. Aye, yes, I 
 remember ; Murray failed to escort her to church, and 
 did not call on Saturday evening. Disappointments never 
 fail to rouse the tiger in her naturally savage nature. 
 Well! she can't help it — nature is nature, after all your 
 training; and she inherits the w T orst qualities of both 
 father and mother. What could be expected from the 
 issue of such a marriage. A true Scot, driven by his 
 desperate fortunes to woo and wed an English heiress, 
 who, on her part, marries for social position ; neither of 
 us having chosen the other, at least as far as the election 
 of the heart tells. The simple truth of the business is 
 this : the poor child was born too soon after our disen- 
 chantment ; when those great scales had but just fallen 
 from our eyes, and we were forced to contemplate each 
 other after the masks were laid aside — to view our real 
 and secret natures. I must bear w^ith her. Many of her 
 faults are by entail ; she can not part with them if she 
 would." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 73 
 
 The girl returns ; the major meeting her at the door, 
 frowning. Ann stammers out, 
 
 " Sir, Miss Guttrude say, she hope you will 'scuse her 
 dis evenin', for she aint not well. She say, she feel much 
 predisposed, and her head gwine to 'vide right into two 
 halfs." 
 
 He passes on with the same measured tread ; adding, 
 fit is better so; all right. Girl, tell your mistress, good 
 night, and adieu. We had better not meet to night, 
 that's clear. I will talk it over with her to-morrow, 
 perhaps." 
 
 It is nine o'clock, a. m. Sw^eet Mary Green is occu- 
 pied as all sweet Marys, who have ever lived, would like 
 to be. She is seated in their small, neat, plain parlor, the 
 surroundings of which give promise of ease and comfort 
 only. 
 
 A young man of pleasing appearance, and debonair 
 address, is by her side. They have been conversing for a 
 long time in a soft, low tone of voice, not louder than the 
 gentle ripple of the still waters, when stirred by the light 
 evening breeze. He presses her taper fingers, which 
 sends the subtle fluid through every avenue to the heart; 
 and with eyes and lips is pleading his cause. Sweet Mary 
 Green blushes, and is silent. I believe, in such matters 
 not to dissent is to assent. Is it not so, my young lady 
 reader ? 
 
 Now, all such interviews are only interesting and pre- 
 cious to the parties concerned. We will therefore close 
 our ears to their plaintive murmurings, the soft rustlings 
 of the boy-god's wings. 
 
 In the same neighborhood, the same hour, and self-same 
 moment, the following dialogue is going on : 
 7 
 
74 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 "Well, papa, I confess I did recognize the child, and 
 the old lady, too ; but somehow I felt unwilling to have 
 them brought forward, there at that table, to be carved 
 up, as I knew they would be, if the company had known 
 that they were the inmates of the hovel, and related to 
 that charming, delectable, superhuman ly elegant, trans- 
 cendently beautiful young woman. O papa ! if you could 
 only have seen her yesterday, when she smiled on me. I 
 was electrified. I can think of no similitude in all nature 
 by which I can place her before you. There is not a 
 flower that will do. Koses, and peach-blossoms, and 
 moonlight, and sunbeams, and dewdrops, and diamonds, 
 and pearls, and everything else, combined and amalga- 
 mated into one blaze of glory, could not, I know, papa, 
 convey to you the same impression as did that radiant 
 smile to me — that one gleam of hope, as it struggled its 
 way up, from the poor, stricken heart, to the face of 
 divine beauty." 
 
 " I should think not, daughter ; for all those beautiful 
 and bright things thrown pell-mell, and as you say, blent 
 into one, w^ould form an unseemly mass. But when will 
 you take me to see this nonpareil of a woman ? " 
 
 " Sometime soon, I hope, sir ; but she has never told 
 me. When I urge it now, she only smiles sadly and 
 says, 1 My drawing-rooms are not quite ready. When 
 they are in order to receive stylish, fashionable visitors, 
 I will let you know;' and so she puts me off from time to 
 time." 
 
 " S'death ! but that's temptiDg. I like a thing of that 
 sort. Gods ! how it inflames a fellow — that sort of quaint 
 chariness! " 
 
 " What did you say, papa? I do not understand you. 
 What is it, sir?" 
 
 " God forbid you should, (aside). Oh, nothing, daughter, 
 go on. What else?" 
 
 " Nothing else, sir, I had ceased speaking." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 75 
 
 " Well, 1 don't think mamma ever surmised who they 
 were." 
 
 " Certainly not ; had she done so, that house would not 
 
 have held her, and then she would have given me h 
 
 as soon as we reached home." Emma put her hand over 
 her father's mouth. 
 
 " Come, papa, I do not want any flowers of rhetoric 
 to-night. Listen, hist ! hist ! let us do so for our own 
 edification, papa." 
 
 "My dear Jones, did you notice that look of Miss Lind- 
 say when her father read the note from that cold, haughty, 
 hateful Colonel Murray?" 
 
 " I guess I did ; and Mis Callerwood, did you see how 
 she bit her lips, and turned pale, then red, then white 
 again?" 
 
 "You better believe I saw it all, and more, too." 
 "Do tell!" rejoined Miss Nancy, unable to sit still, so 
 keen was becoming her enjoyment of the subject. 
 
 "Do you think, Jones, that they'll ever be married?" 
 "Who, ma'am?" 
 
 " Pshaw ! I thought you understood ; we were talking 
 about Miss Lindsay and Colonel Murray." 
 
 " Oh, true ! but the Lord knows I don't. But they do 
 say " 
 
 " Oh hush, Jones ; don't keep telling me what they do 
 say — tell me what you know." 
 
 "Do tell! I never see sich a woman. She'll ask ten 
 thousand questions, but if you jest take up time to response 
 to one, she'll fly off the helm.''' 
 
 " Come, Jones, don't be a fool ; you know I have been 
 your friend through thick and thin, so put up." 
 
 " I always do put up. I've put up with everything till 
 I can't stand it no longer. Next you'll be telling me to 
 put out, and I'll be sure to do it ; so I will." 
 
 Miss Nancy had wrought herself into a towering pas- 
 
76 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 sion. Her little twinkling, coal-black eyes snapped; her 
 lips, which were always white, just then became blue, and 
 she involuntarily clenched her teeth and her fists ; but 
 when she saw Mrs. Calderwood bridle up, and set her 
 head on one side, closing the opposite eye, she knew then 
 the time had come ; and if she did not speedily recant, the 
 game would be up. 
 
 " Well, Miss Jones, I wonder who would be looser 
 thereby ? I want you to decide that case, and inform me 
 speedily," and her big, pale, blue eyes glared — they never 
 could flash, you know. 
 
 "God bless my dear Mis Callerwood. Why I was just 
 a-joking. I havn't no idea of doing nothing at all in the 
 wide, wide, world," said the toady, in an humble, fawning 
 voice. Seeing that the lady was not yet propitiated, and 
 fearing that her feline propensities were being roused (for 
 she rapidly passed her thumb over the end of every 
 finger-nail as if feeling their pointedness and potency), 
 she adds hurriedly, with feigned showing of importance 
 and mystery, 
 
 " But Callerwood, I believe I never told you. No, I 
 swore I would lock it all up in my bosom of bosoms, and 
 then throw away the key." 
 
 " What! what is it, Jones?" (A laugh from the hus- 
 band.) 
 
 Every vestige of anger had now disappeared, — all swal- 
 lowed up in her insatiable love of gossip and desire to 
 hear scandal. 
 
 " Come now, Jones?" and she laid her arm around her 
 scraggy neck caressingly. 
 
 " Can't do it, Mis Callerwood. I reckon I hadn't 
 ought to ; I'm bound up so tight." 
 
 u Humph ! God knows you look like it, you d — d old 
 mummy, you! " exclaimed Calderwood, and Emma again 
 places her hand on his mouth. 
 
 "Well, Jones, Em bound, too, to hear that." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 77 
 
 "How! you don't say so? Then I reckon we may's 
 well just talk it all over together." 
 " Well, I think so, Jones." 
 
 "I had been way down to the t'other eend of Chesnut, 
 to see again about getting that skuirt quilted." 
 
 " Oh ! the fiends take the skirt ; go on." 
 
 " Well, Mis Callerwood, who told you, any how?" 
 
 " Go on, Jones," says Mrs. Calderwood, now trembling 
 with eagerness. 
 
 " As I was a saying, I went down to the fur end of 
 Chesnut to get that sku " 
 
 " Confound Chesnut and that old petticoat too ! Jones, 
 I will not talk to you, if you don't stick more to the text." 
 
 " Why, what is the text, Mis Callerwood?" An im- 
 patient wave of the hand, a sudden starting to the floor, 
 and a very lady-lika stamping of the foot, brings poor old 
 Miss Nancy back to the point, and reseats her, for she had 
 been raised quite out of her chair by that little whirl- 
 wind. As meekly now as a martyr she relates, while the 
 lady as greedily drinks in, the poison. 
 
 " Well, as I was coming back, I calls to see Moggy Ann 
 
 Carns. I wanted to git her to " Another frown 
 
 from Mrs. C. "'Well,' says Moggy Ann, 'Miss Jones, 
 did you hear what a quarrel Gertrude Lindsay and Colo- 
 nel Murray has had ? ' ' No, dear,' says I, i I haint heerd 
 a word on the subject. What is it, dear Moggy ? ' 1 Oh,' 
 says she, 1 I'm afeardto tell ye, I swore on the kiver of the 
 Bible. You see the leaves was all burnt up long ago, 
 'cause Tom Truman, my last sweetheart, went and exam- 
 ined the family record, and seen our ages ; so sister burnt 
 up all the in'ards of the book, but for myself, I didn't — ' " 
 
 " Fool ! " exclaimed Mrs. C. with an uncontrollable burst 
 of impatient rage. 
 
 Miss Nancy folded her arms, and, with Moses-like meek- 
 ness went on — 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, she said she was swore on the 
 
78 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 lids of the Bible, that she wouldn't tell nobody, and then 
 she sorter swore me, but as you've been bound up too, 
 jist like myself, we'll talk it over together." 
 
 " Go on ! " now screamed Mrs. Calderwood, almost 
 beside herself. 
 
 " Ann, Gertrude's maid, come t'other day for that blue 
 satin dress, and when she got it, she kept a kind o' linger- 
 ing and loitering like. So it struck me she had some- 
 thing on her mind. 'Ann,' says I, 'when is your mis- 
 tress going to get married ? ' 
 
 " 1 Well, now, Miss Moggy, dat's more 'an dis nigger is 
 able to say jest now. I begin to think never.' Then she 
 comes close up to Moggy and whispers, ' Dat Colonel Mur- 
 ray don't love Miss Guttrude ; he neber did, and neber 
 will ; dat's de way to tell it. You remembers las' Sunday, 
 don't you, Miss Moggy ? Well, did you know dat ev'ry 
 Sabbat day, de Lord's good day, we has dinner party at 
 our house ? and de 'mestics and waiters can't get to go to 
 de Mefodist chaplain to hear dat dear, miserable-looking 
 man perclaim de glad tidings of great joy, what you'd 
 never think was glad tidings, he say 'em so mournful 
 like.' 
 
 " 'Go on, Ann, that's a good girl,' says Moggy. 
 
 " ' Well, dat last dinner, 'most a week ago, after all de 
 comp'ny leaved, I was in de back parlor, and dey in de 
 front. I kept as still as any hoppergrass, so dat I might 
 listen good. I hear Miss Guttrude say, in a low and trim- 
 bly voice, " Murray, what has come over you ? You is so 
 cold and distantful tome of late?" Den de colonel get 
 up, and say he must wifdraw.' 
 
 " ' But first, what did he say ? 9 eagerly inquired Moggy. 
 
 " ' He spoked not a word, but like a dumb brute before 
 de shearers, he jis opened his lips.' 
 
 " ' Then what did he say? ' reiterated Moggy Ann. 
 
 " ' Why, didn't I tell you, he speaked not a word.' 
 
 " 1 But you said he opened his lips, didn't you ? ' 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH . 
 
 79 
 
 " 1 Lor' ! no I didn't; I said the dumb beast 'fore de 
 shearers opened dar lips. O mercy ! O mercy ! How 
 ignorous white folks is, any how. Dey hardly eve does 
 know de word o' God.' 
 
 u ' Go on, Ann,' says Moggy, for, like you, Mis Caller- 
 wood, she was anxious to git to the sequence. 
 
 f j 1 Well, den she take his hand, and she look up in he 
 whiskers and sigh, and groan, and say, weeping, " Oh ! 
 monda-Dieu ! I has live one day too long ! Conrad, you 
 don't love me ! What has I did, that you is so much es- 
 tranged away from me ? " ' 
 
 " < Then what? Do pray, go on, Ann,' said Moggy 
 Ann. 
 
 " ' He git right up, and say he must retire. So he takes 
 her hand, and say good-night. But presently he stoop 
 down and kiss her one, two, tree times. Den he face flush 
 up, and he eyes blttze, and de big veins swell so in he 
 forehead dat dey look like young ropes ; and I swear to 
 you, Miss Moggy Ann, I thought Miss Gutty was gwine 
 to die of gladness. Ah ! but, Miss Moggy Ann, white 
 man mighty unsartain. Dey aint constant and true in 
 dar loves ; and dat I do know for myself, nigger as I is.' 
 
 " ' Well, what then ? what followed ? ' said Moggy. 
 
 u £ Why, nothing didn't follow. Dat de last time she 
 ever see him. Ah ! I tell you, white man is so slippery 
 and so full of dissembilation. Miss Gutty 'spect him to 
 come to go with her to church, accordin' to pintment, but 
 s-h-e w-a-i-t ! s-h-e w-a i-t! After awhile he come 
 not at all, and she go off by herself wid Mr. Gaines ; but 
 she d-a-t mad ! Whew ! how mad she was. I hear no 
 more. But I got my eye and my ear open.' £ And mouth 
 too, said Moggy,' parenthetically. 
 
 u i Go on, Ann dear ! What comes next?' 
 
 u { Oh, nothing did'nt come next ; dey did'nt have no 
 next. But, from what I hear, Miss Gutty made him mad. 
 Sompin 'bout an old beggar 'oman at church.' 
 
80 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T C II 
 
 " 6 So he didn't come that afternoon/ says Moggy. 
 
 "'No, m-a-m, he didn't; nor that night; nor never 
 since. In fact, he haint come yit, and I don't believe he's 
 ever gwine to come agin.' 
 
 " ' Oh/ says, Moggy (who is very tender hearted), 'that 
 is too cruel. How does she stand it, Ann ? ' 
 
 " ' Well ! she never do tell her grief nor her love ; hut 
 jis lets it, like a worm in de core of an apple, feed on her 
 damaged cheek, and sits dar, while a green an' sickly 
 melancholy does her dat way, as " Will Hatspear" says.' 
 (Ann was a constant attendant at the theater, and a 
 special admirer of the divine Shakspeare.) 
 
 "'Is that all?' 
 
 " i Not quite. She writ a letter to him the other night. 
 De letter was blistered wid bitter, salt tears. She give it 
 to me, 'cause she know she can trus' me. She tell me to 
 hang about the door till he come out, and then follow him, 
 and bring him to her, if I wants my poor young mistis 
 to live. But — God brass your soul, Miss Moggy — I 
 stand dar till I can't keep my limbs from chattering and 
 my teeth from quaking wid cold. Presently he come 
 out, all muffled up so, dat de Devil himself wouldn't know 
 him. But instead of taking de street to our house, he 
 strike down nine or ten squares. I all dat time creep 'long 
 behind him. After awhile he stop before a little m-e-a-n- 
 looking house ; den he walk up and down many times ; 
 after which, he plant hisself before the lamp-post, and 
 look like he gazing into the old window. Just den de 
 "Watch comes 'long, and seize hold o' me : but I knows dat 
 man ; so I shows him my face ; den he cuss me, and ax 
 me what Devil's arrand I on now. I pint to Col. Mur- 
 ray — and burst out into a loud whisperin giggle; and 
 
 when Murdoch sees what I pint at, he says — "Yes, d 
 
 him, he's there again, is he ? " So I broke oif and run'd 
 home — and found Miss Gutty dressed, sitting up waiting 
 for de Col. — he ! he ! he ! And dat's all.' 
 
T H E NIGHT W A T C II . 
 
 81 
 
 " { Oh ! Lors a mercy ! I've been here four hours. Miss 
 G-uttrude '11 kill me ! Miss Moggy ' 
 
 " < Oh, never fear Ann ; you know too many of her 
 secrets. You might do just what you have a mind to. If 
 you'll manage your cards right, you can git your free- 
 dom.' 
 
 " £ Oh, I don't want dat. I'm a thousand times better 
 off dan any free nigger, and a million of times more 
 'spectable. And now, Miss Moggy you must take a sol- 
 emn oaph on de Bible.' 
 
 " * Oh, never mind, Ann, I'm not going to betray your 
 confidence.' 
 
 £C < Git de Eible, else I won't tell you what passed sence, 
 betwixt Miss Guttrude and dat traitorsome colonel.' 
 
 " So that made Moggy get them lids of # the Bible, and 
 Ann put her through the oath, thinking it was a valid 
 oath, and a sure-'nough book." 
 
 " Well, what more, Jones? " 
 
 " Not another word would Ann utter, but broke right 
 off, notwithstanding Moggy coaxed her, and offered to 
 pay her." 
 
 Mrs. Calderwood drew a long breath, for so intensified 
 had been her enjoyment, so rapt her attention, that she 
 had not ventured to respire freely, lest she should inter- 
 rupt that which by long indulgence had become the ali- 
 ment of her nature. 
 
 u Well, now I declare, Jones, this is something worth 
 listening to." 
 
 " I think, Jones, it is the most remarkable thing of the 
 age, how that old, patched-up, pasted over, braided, and 
 painted up mother of his has so got the upper hand of 
 that cold, stern, proud man. She winds him up like a 
 watch or a clock, they tell me." * 
 
 u Yes, Mis Callerwood, but they do say that that old 
 woman possesses some charms or conjurations; any how, 
 some sort o' subtly arts ; for they tell me — I don't know 
 
82 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 nothing about it myself — but they say that she always 
 carries her pint, and that she can coax or scold, or scare 
 that nasty, arrogant, hateful man into, or out of, any plan 
 or prospect of his life whenever she pleases. And she, 
 too, the oldest, the ugliest, and madest up creature that 
 ever I saw." 
 
 Then they both laughed a little, mean, sniggering laugh, 
 and " d em " was heard from across the way, 
 
 u Papa, did you ever hear or see anything like the gusto 
 with which mamma and Miss Nancy have served up every- 
 body's reputation to-night?" 
 
 u Yes, my love, and their appetites are growing keener 
 every hour." 
 
 " But, papa, why use such ugly, profane language before 
 your little daughter ? I'll bet you my diamond ring that 
 when I take you to see my glorious Grecian statue, you 
 w r ill never think of devil, or damnation either, in her 
 presence." 
 
 " Emma, I love you more than all the world besides, 
 Tjid I never mean to wound or maltreat you ; but, d 
 
 child, here at home, where your mother and that old 
 are, I always find something suggestive of those 
 „ ^. Perhaps if I were there, I should only think of 
 fairies, and goddesses, and Cupid's court." 
 
 " You would think, papa, of angels and seraphims, and 
 good spirits. I think one unholy thought or desire would 
 desecrate the place;" and she looked plaintively and 
 inquiringly into his face. 
 
 u Dear child, you are a sweet, bewitching, innocent lit- 
 tle fool," and he kissed her fervently and left. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 83 
 
 CHAPTEE X . 
 
 nature's nobleman. 
 
 " He was not born to shame ; 
 Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit ; 
 For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned 
 Sole monarch of the universal earth." 
 
 " Love is a passion which kindles honor into noble acts." 
 
 At the same hour, in a plain, neat little room, back of 
 a little variety store r seated in a little old arm chair, is a 
 little old lady. The little old lady is very aged ; her hair, 
 which is milk white, is combed smoothly over her wrin- 
 kled brow, and worn under a prim Quaker cap. A little 
 table is by her side, on which is a snow-white cover and 
 a napkin, a fine China plate, cup and saucer, wine-glass, 
 knife, and silver fork. 
 
 A rather quaint, quiet-looking little woman, attired in a 
 brown merino dress, a collar of fine linen, white as her 
 teeth, with cuffs to suit, is in attendance. This little young 
 lady is not pretty, as we behold her just then, but she is 
 good, Oh, how good ! 
 
 " Aweel ! aweel ! my bonny bairn, ye dinna ken, and 
 maybe ye dinna care, how lang and wearily the time 
 drags wi' me. Ye gang your gaits, but ye leave the puir 
 auld body here to greet and glower all alone by my ain 
 sel'. Lang, Oh, too lang it is, before I can lay me down 
 and dee." 
 
 " Ah ! now, grannie, niver fash, and it'll be gude when 
 it comes. Aweel ! and it's nae sae lang either since ye 
 tasted o' the gude things frae God's store-house." 
 
84 THE NIGHT AYATCH. 
 
 Then she placed on that little table the nicest plate of 
 oysters and crackers, fills the China cup with aromatic 
 tea, and pours into the glass a spoonful of good port wine. 
 It is all on the table, every morsel that the house con- 
 tained that night. The old lady eats with a morbid appe- 
 tite, while with the garrulousness and querulousness of 
 extreme old age, she grumbles all the time. But that 
 dear little embodiment of patience and fortitude never 
 retorts. Then, when all is consumed, every oyster and 
 every cracker, and there is nothing left for the pious, 
 lovely, self-sacrificing little Minny Dun, she with a smoth- 
 ered sigh pours out a cup of tea, and drinks it without 
 the amelioration of sugar or cream. Still with a thank- 
 ful heart, a contented mind, and an humble spirit, she 
 says, mentally, " I have lost my thrift, somehow^, I dinna 
 ken half my time what I am about. But I will provide 
 better next week." 
 
 That good creature retired presently with the pangs of 
 hunger at work ; but she did not the less pour out her 
 soul in gratitude to God. Peace be with thee, and angels 
 watch over thee and thy aged, exacting parent ; and may 
 God bless thee, thou gentle, affectionate little Minny Dun. 
 
 In another part of the city, quite remote from this, 
 there are four or five men seated over a fire in a mean, 
 dirty-looking room. The atmosphere is reeking with the 
 rank odor of spilt liquor and tobacco smoke. 
 
 A dark, but very handsome man gets up, puts on his 
 overcoat, which is bear-skin, buttons it up to his chin, 
 dons a cap of the same material, takes his club of office, 
 and leaves the room, the rest following him. 
 
 The first man separates himself from the others, and 
 walks on hurriedly until he gets opposite to a stately man- 
 sion, from the windows of which brilliant lights are 
 streaming. He stops, looks at the house, and mutters to 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 85 
 
 himself, "Well, he can't help it, and I can't help it either. 
 I curse myself every hour in the day. But why do this ? 
 I am not to blame. All are attracted, even as I was. 
 Who can resist such beauty ? I saw him start. I saw 
 that look of wondering admiration, that intense mesmeric 
 gaze. He stopped too ; but she did not recoil from him. 
 I watched her. Ho, no ; she stood and gazed too. I 
 watched her." 
 
 While he stood there thus communing with himself and 
 kindling his wrath, the street-door opened, and a muffled 
 figure comes out in the clear gas light. His hat is also 
 drawn low down over his face, which is quite concealed. 
 He walks on rapidly until he gets far down Market street. 
 The bear-skin man keeps a short distance behind. 
 
 When the man ahead stops, it is in front of the hovel. 
 He walks slowly before the house for some time ; always 
 in passing sends a curious, keen glance into the old rickety 
 window. 
 
 The stained and time-worn curtain reveals, through a 
 rent in the center, the group within. A little fire is blaz- 
 ing in the grate ; the old lady is rocking herself as usual, 
 looking very calm and peaceful. A small work-table 
 stands before the fire, on which is an old tin lamp. 
 Myra is seated by this, writing in a large book. A hand- 
 kerchief is thrown over her head so that her face is only 
 partially revealed. She writes rapidly, then stopping, 
 puts her hand to her head, and seems to think. Then 
 she raises those glorious eyes to heaven, and they are 
 humid. She writes again — now she stops and weeps, 
 and placing her left hand over her heart, sighs deeply. 
 
 Surprise, admiration, and curiosity, have now all given 
 place to one overwhelming feeling of amazement. He is 
 really as cold as the lamp-post against which he leans. 
 
 When our bear-skin man gets within ear shot, he 
 catches these disjointed exclamations: "Strange ! passing 
 
86 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 strange ! most marvelous ! It must be the same ! It can 
 be no other than a living woman who sits there writing ! 
 I am bewildered ! My head whirls ! I am either dying, 
 or I am frightened ! I know nothing of either, save in 
 the abstract ; but I rather think this is death. Oh, God ! 
 I am content ! Let me die, then, while I am gazing at 
 her ! I was taught to believe that the cold tomb en- 
 shrouded that matchless form ! My mother told me so, 
 and I have never yet doubted her truth. This, then, is 
 only a vision, a glimpse of heaven." 
 
 "Past nine o'clock!" sung out the "Night Watch," 
 "all's well." 
 
 The man in the slouched hat starts up, looks wildly 
 around, and hurries off. 
 
 The watchman then takes his place against the lamp- 
 post, and the poor inmates are subjected also to his gaze. 
 He, no doubt, would have stopped there till morning, and 
 left somebody else to cry out, "All's well," had not one of 
 his comrades surprized him by rudely slapping him on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 " Why, Murdoch, what in the devil's name are you 
 standing there gazing at that old blue flag for ? What in 
 the h do you see there to peer at so £ frorociously ?' " 
 
 "Yes," added another, "it's Phil and myself what's 
 been watching ye for ten minutes a'most ; and be Jasus 
 we jist thought ye was frozen in yer shoes, entirely." 
 
 " Pass on, pass on ; I've got nothing to do with you," 
 replied he, and as they walked away they laughed 
 coarsely. This was an entire new phase in the behavior 
 of their brother in office. 
 
 While he continues to gaze, the old curtain is drawn 
 closely together ; so that the aperture being closed the 
 enrapturing vision is shut out, or rather in. The man 
 grinds his teeth in impotent rage. 
 
 " There it is again, Murray could have stood here till 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 87 
 
 broad day-light and she would never have thought of 
 
 closing that d d rag. But as soon as I come, then, 
 
 that's the way ! But I'll have her, and I'll make her rue 
 the day that she flung the door so fiercely into my face, 
 and then looked so dove-like on him. What right had 
 she to treat me thus ? or what business has she being so 
 pretty ? Why did she settle down in that little place on 
 the way-side, if she don't want folks to look at her ? God 
 forgive me ! I can't help my nature. I fall in love with - 
 beauty whenever I meet with it, and the more I should 
 not, the more I do. I love to gaze at the lovely creature 
 behind that old curtain, because I know she don't want 
 me to." 
 
 It was the old lady who had closed the curtain, and she 
 now calls on her granddaughter to join in the evening 
 devotions. 
 
 Eeader, had you been sufficiently near to hear without 
 seeing, you would never have inferred from that address 
 to Deity, that there was want, and misery, and squalid 
 poverty in that house — so hopeful and grateful was the 
 thanksgiving ; so fervent, glowing, and intense the praise ; 
 so trusting and confident the invocation. In seeking the 
 kingdom, that dear old saint had found all things added. 
 She never doubted, for one single moment, the validity 
 and -steadfastness of God's promises. This sufficed for 
 her happiness, better than silver and gold, stately man- 
 sions, ermine and fine linen. All these are unstable and 
 perishable : but God's promises are immutable and inde- 
 structible. 
 
 That feeble, infirm woman was elevated by her faith 
 and love above the common mutations of time, the vicis- 
 situdes of life. Nothing could make her afraid. Did 
 sickness and sorrow assail, did friends desert, did enemies 
 smite, did hunger pinch, did toil weary, and break down, 
 and shatter the old casket, still the jewel within remained 
 
88 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 untarnished. It was given into the keeping of one who 
 knew the worth of the gem. She smiled at all the ills of 
 life in her blunt way, well knowing that Christ's little 
 flock had nothing to fear. Christ, the Good Shepherd ! 
 Oh ! how beautiful are those words, " He w^ill watch over 
 them, and lead them into green pastures ! " Even death 
 had no terrors for her. The same Good Shepherd would 
 be waiting at the portal to conduct his ransomed one into 
 the presence of the Father. Is it any wonder, then, that 
 that hovel should have seemed like a palace to her. 
 
 She thus retires to rest — but first entreating her grand- 
 daughter to follow her example. Finding all her persua- 
 sions fail, she essays to use an argument which, with 
 ladies, is generally potent. 
 
 " Myra, my dear child, if you do not give up this ugly 
 habit of sitting up all night, you will soon begin to look 
 like a blighted, or frost-bitten flower. In a short time 
 your skin will resemble an old, wilted cabbage-leaf." 
 
 Poor Myra smiled mournfully, as she replied, 
 
 " Ah ! grandma, that is the fittest similitude you ever 
 used in your life. I am wmat you describe, even now. 
 But what matter ? What use have I for charms ? Yet to 
 please you, I will soon retire. Indeed, mother, I intend 
 from henceforth to obey every suggestion of your's, as 
 faithfully as if I were a machine, set in motion by you. 
 Then I shall be saved the trouble of thinking, and can 
 feed on memories." 
 
 " I'm done : you are about to mount your stilts again, 
 I see, child. Well! totter on. I'm afraid though you'll 
 get a mighty fall, some of these days. Go to bed, go 
 to bed. I suggest this then, as the first test of your 
 obedience." 
 
 Myra rose and seemed to busy herself in the necessary 
 preparations for retiring. Presently the old lady gave 
 token of having found temporary rest from her labors. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 89 
 
 The child, too, is sleeping sweetly. The lady is also dis- 
 robed of her faded, fine garments, and has donned a 
 double wrapper of coarse cloth. She moves about very 
 softly, puts all things to rights, places the little stand near 
 the fire, having added a very little fuel to the dying- 
 embers ; then she takes out her journal, and turning back 
 several leaves, reads, and weeps. Then she goes up very 
 softly to the bedside, and kisses the child many times. 
 After which she seats herself and writes impatiently, and 
 nervously, as if afraid to stop or think. 
 
 8 
 
90 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE JOURNAL. 
 
 " remembrance : 
 Why dost thou open all my wounds again ? " 
 
 " Thinking will make me mad. Why must I think, 
 When no thought brings me comfort. " 
 
 "Passions are likened best to floods and streams ; 
 The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb." 
 
 " Sunday night, 10 o'clock. O my Father in heaven ! 
 Pity me! Spirit of my sainted mother, whose heart, like 
 mine, was broken, hover near, and sustain me ! I droop, 
 I faint, dear mother ! I have not thy sublime spirit of 
 endurance, thy perfect patience, thy exalting philosophy, 
 or thy meek, subdued piety. But Oh, I have all thy 
 griefs. I inherit all thy sorrows, with none to help, none 
 to listen, none to pity ; and, alas ! no self-sustaining power, 
 and no Christian graces. I weep my eyes out ; my soul is 
 dissolved in weakness, while my nature and constitution 
 are enfeebled and shattered. Come, gentle spirit, like 
 that dove of old, and give me an earnest of thy sympathy ; 
 a token that thou art near ! O dear spirit ! if thou art 
 permitted, let me hear the soothing rustle of thy angel- 
 wings ! " 
 
 The poor, grief-stricken, half-demented woman sat as 
 if entranced, in the attitude of rapt attention, listening to 
 catch that token. 
 
 Now, a change comes over her face — a shadow flits 
 across it. She is disappointed, and she bows her head, 
 and weeps while she plaintively murmurs, 
 
THE Jfcl G H T WATCH. 91 
 
 u All things fail me ! Hast thou too forgotten thy child, 
 
 my mother ? Blessed Jesus, then pity me ! I am 
 taught, that Thou, and Thou only, never didst at any 
 time, turn away from the wretched. Thou hast seen that 
 this day has been one of intense torture. Thou knowest 
 that my anguish of soul has been more than I could 
 endure through another day. Oh ! how I have longed for 
 silence and solitude. I am not mistaken. I saw him 
 to-day. He passed that window. I saw him start, then 
 stop, and turn ghastly pale. I was at that moment stand- 
 ing there, dreaming of him ; thinking over those halcyon 
 days, before our troubles came. So vivid was this action 
 of memory, that I thought myself still by his side, wan- 
 dering through orange and myrtle groves. Seeing him 
 thus, was so much a matter of course, that I smiled a 
 joyous welcome, having for the nonce forgotten this fright- 
 ful change. Yes ! I smiled ; and then I saw the blood 
 rush back to his face, and he looked startled and bewil- 
 dered. Just as I was about to fly to the door, and call 
 out frantically on his clear, honored name, O God ! that 
 fearful promise, that awful oath, that heart-crushing, 
 
 soul-killing secret came to my mind. The day my 
 
 poor father imparted it to me, is one never to be forgotten. 
 Such days as that, and this, occur but once in a lifetime. 
 ~No nature is strong enough to endure a repetition ; no 
 mind firm enough to bear up under such a weight ; no 
 heart capacious enough to conceal its corrodings. My 
 blood curdles at the remembrance ! God help me ! I feel 
 
 1 am on the brink of distraction." 
 
 She walks hurriedly across the room many times; 
 then taking her seat, she again writes on slowly and 
 wearily : 
 
 " I loved him so much ! Oh ! who ever loved as I did, 
 or was loved as I was ? I could get none to speak of him 
 to me, and it was only when they thought me dying, and 
 in answer to my frenzied entreaties, that as a death-bed 
 
92 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 favor they whispered, 1 He is married ; so now turn your 
 thoughts from earth to heaven.' Oh! why was I not 
 suffered to die then ? Why left here only to bewail 
 the past and dread the future ? To please my father then, 
 I perjured my soul, and married too. But softly ; let me 
 not revive that memory. O God ! Spare me this remin- 
 iscence. Let every association in my mind perish ; let 
 every connecting link be sundered ; let all things die, so 
 that there be no cue to that fearful connection. My poor 
 grandmother is the chain by which I am forced to unite 
 the past with the present. But for that, I should wish to 
 annihilate all dates, all mementoes, all remembrances. 
 My darling mother stood by her child as long as she lived. 
 She was so just, upright, and pure that cruelty, vice, and 
 crime did not stalk abroad in our vicinity then, as after- 
 ward. Oh ! I am very wretched ! " 
 
 Just then the child stirred uneasily, and commenced 
 speaking in a low, drowsy voice : 
 
 " Mamma, I love you ; won't that do ? I love you ; let 
 me kiss you, my sweet mother." Then he threw his lit- 
 tle arms up as if to embrace her. 
 
 "'.Now, may God forgive me!" cried that frantic 
 mother. " My child, my child ! I have in my madness 
 invoked maledictions on thy innocent head. O Saviour, 
 intercede for me, and let not my wild ravings be visited 
 on the head of this poor lamb." 
 
 She threw herself on her knees by the bed, wrung her 
 hands, wept, and prayed fervently in her incoherent way, 
 until she even exhausted grief. Then she arose, bathed 
 her eyes, and again wrote : 
 
 " I regret much that I stood beside the window to-day. 
 I fear I shall never be able to subdue this restless spirit 
 any more. I must hide away from him. He must not 
 see me. I must not look upon him. I can not keep the 
 oath, were I to do so. Alas ! to what a condition am I 
 reduced ! To-morrow I must sit here again, a sort of 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 93 
 
 raree show, where everybody seems to feel free to enter. 
 I must enact the same falsehood, play off the same insig- 
 nificant cheat. 
 
 " Fashionable dress-maker ! Saints and angels ! I 
 never have made a dress ; I know not whether I could 
 achieve such a thing to save my life ; yet I am to be again 
 insulted and gazed at. All this humiliation I must endure, 
 because I had not the power to subdue, nay, subvert 
 nature, to change God's own work. He made me as I 
 am. He gave me this loving heart ; endued me with this 
 yielding, trusting, grateful disposition, and cursed me 
 with these fervent affections, this ardent nature, and then 
 suffered me to be tempted beyond my strength. Now my 
 heart is cold and dead ; sometimes it seems to be iron, 
 then stone, and again ice. But to-day, aye ! to-day 
 
 " How handsome he looked ! I think I should have 
 screamed with joy, had not I been so wrapped up in that 
 dream. How superb he is in his glorious serenity ! how 
 magnificent in gloom ! how sublime in trouble ! Man, 
 lover, friend, philosopher, Christian, he is more than 
 human in each relation of life. 
 
 " I could not ask the child, could not trust myself to 
 speak his name. Grandma did not allude to the hand- 
 some stranger. My poor little son ! Oh ! my head is 
 dizzy. I grow wild ! I am half dead ! What will become 
 of me ? Brother, my brother ! Father ! you were very 
 stern, fierce, and cruel ; but you did it for the best, per- 
 haps. I don't know. Look down now, poor father, and 
 see what your work has done. Behold thy lost, lost, lost 
 child." She falls heavily from her seat. 
 
 The tenants of that lowly place are so worn out by toil 
 that they sleep soundly. 
 
 When the old lady rises, she finds Myra lying on the 
 floor, apparently dead. A little stream of blood has 
 issued from a contusion on the temple, which is now 
 
94 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 coagulated. God knows how long she had been lying 
 there ; she is white and cold, and does not breathe. 
 
 The poor old lady is frantic with grief and fright ; she 
 runs to the door ; gives one piercing shriek of alarm. The 
 house-maid at the opposite tenement is opening the win- 
 dows ; she drops her broom, and runs over, saying — 
 
 " What de matter, Mam ? " 
 
 "Look!" said the old lady, pointing to her prostrate 
 child. — " For the love of God ! run for a Doctor ! " 
 
 "I can't leave home, Mam — I darn't to — but I'll run 
 tell little Miss Minny Dun ; she'll fix everything right 
 for you." 
 
 In the mean time, Clarence had been roused up ; and 
 instead of, " child-like," adding to the commotion, he 
 dresses himself, and seeing his grandmother making un- 
 successful efforts to get his mother in bed, without saying 
 a word — the tears streaming down his cheeks — he takes 
 hold of her feet, and they raise her up. He then puts on 
 his little cap, slips from the house, and runs along the 
 street, sobbing as if his heart would break. 
 
 It being early, there are but few persons passing. ]STone 
 seem to heed that poor child. He has accosted some half- 
 dozen persons ; but taking him for a little beggar, re- 
 hearsing his part, which must be played over with varia- 
 tions a hundred times during the course of the day, they 
 push him rudely aside. He would sometimes take hold 
 of a coarse, rough man's hand, and raising his tearful 
 eyes to his face, say — " Oh, Sir, for God's sake, help me 
 to find a doctor; " but he would also shake him off. That 
 short syllable, " help," had steeled their hearts. None 
 waited to hear his sad story. 
 
 Dear little soul ! he ran that cold morning, only half 
 clad as he was, all the way to the market-house, without 
 stopping. There he is still unheeded ; till presently, catch- 
 ing one familiar note, and listening, he hears a friendly 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 95 
 
 M 
 
 voice : darting to the spot, he throws his arms around the 
 neck of a rather uncouth, ugly negro-man, and after kiss- 
 ing his sooty face two or three times, he finds words to 
 tell his tale. 
 
 u God A'mighty bress de darlin child," said he, em- 
 bracing him. 
 
 " Oh ! Uncle Ned, my dear mother will be dead — quite 
 dead — if }^ou don't come now, and run all the way." 
 
 u Why, honey ! de'll whip ebery bit o' skin offer Uncle 
 Ned's back, if I leave my posties here." 
 
 The boy wrung his hands, crying — " Then I fear she is 
 lost!" 
 
 An Irish woman who had been listening, comes up, and 
 taking him in her arms, cries out ? as she wiped her eyes, 
 " Oh, the darlint lamb. Come, Ned, take the dear, and 
 just go along. I'll stay by and watch the stall, and stand 
 between you and blame." 
 
 Uncle Ned takes him from the woman, and placing his 
 great, hard, horn hand* over his little bare feet, he moves 
 off at a rapid pace. He takes him to Doctor Brown's 
 office ; there the little fellow is allowed to tell his troubles 
 in his own language ; which is rendered almost incompre- 
 hensible, on account of his choking sobs. 
 
 When they arrive, they find little Minny Dun and the 
 grandmother engaged in rubbing the patient. They are 
 so much absorbed that they have forgotten to shut the 
 street door, and there are a pair of large, coal-black, but 
 gentle eyes, peeping out from amid coarse furs, at them. 
 He stands in the way, waiting to be of service. The 
 Doctor enters, visibly shuddering, as he beholds the 
 tableau, as also with cold. 
 
 " Boy, put down the child, and make a fire." 
 
 P Yes, Sir, I gwine to do dat of my own 'cord. I knows 
 ole Missus dare, and young Massa, and de poor dead lady. 
 I loves 'em all. Dey give poor Uncle Ned dinner, one 
 day, when he quite starved a'most." 
 
96 
 
 T H E N I G II T WATCH. 
 
 Having made the fire, Ned goes for water. The child 
 creeps up to his mother, and dropping on his knees seizes 
 her hand, which he covers with kisses and tears. The 
 Doctor has done a great deal for her, and she at last gives 
 some signs of life. 
 
 Doctor Brown thinks of something which he needs. 
 
 He looks round for a messenger. ISTed has gone, and 
 the child is half dead w T ith grief ; he steps to the door, and 
 seeing our bear-skin man there, he calls to him. 
 
 " Murdoch, come hither. Can't you do a service to this 
 poor family? They are in great distress." 
 
 " With the most hearty good will, I assure you, sir." 
 
 He is then entrusted with the errand ; and before the 
 Doctor had taken a half-dozen turns in the room he was 
 back. 
 
 He entered now without ceremony, and after handing 
 the articles to the Doctor, he approached the bed and 
 gazes with a reverential look at the patient. There is no 
 contortion of muscle, limb or feature. She reclines in the 
 most easy, graceful attitude ; one arm has been bandaged 
 for the use of the lancet, this is bare, and is thrown up 
 over her head ; while the other hand is clasped in that of 
 her son, still kneeling by her side. 
 
 The man seems to be magnetized ; and is at first unable 
 to withdraw his gaze. .Now he turns mournfully away, 
 and wipes his eyes. 
 
 Minny Dun has gone home, for a moment. Old Mrs. 
 Wise is in the kitchen. The Doctor wishes to raise the 
 patient, for the purpose of pouring some potion down her 
 throat. He looks round 
 
 " Here, Murdoch ! 'Tis a matter of life and death, 
 and death has much the best chance just now ; else I 
 would not place her in this perilous situation," said he, 
 with a mischievous smile. " Here sit behind this poor 
 lady, while I pour this medicine down her throat." 
 
 Murdoch hesitated, and seemed to hang back. 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C II . 
 
 97 
 
 ¥ Come, my friend, she will strangle to death, unless 
 she is supported ; " and he points to Myra's shoulders. 
 
 The man approached, as if he were treading on hallowed 
 ground, and very softly takes her in his arms and leans 
 her up against his rugged, giant-like breast. When the 
 Doctor attempts to administer the drug, he can not ; for 
 Murdoch is seized with such an uncontrollable agitation 
 that he shakes the whole bed. Doctor Brown looks up in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter, Murdoch ? Have you got 
 an ague, too ? " 
 
 When he looked into his face, he well-nigh dropped 
 the cup. His e}^es were blazing, scorched up with feeling, 
 and had become blood-shot. He is very pale ; almost as 
 much so as the poor lady on whom his fiery gaze is fixed. 
 By a superhuman effort he quells the storm within. In 
 doing so he has wound his arms so tightly around poor 
 Myra, that she struggles and writhes in pain. 
 
 " Why, Murdoch, you are worse than any school-boy. 
 Loose your hold, man. Presently the lady will open her 
 eyes ; then she will think herself enfolded in 4 bruin's 
 embrace,' if she sees all that bear-skin about her. Let us 
 put her down, now." 
 
 When the good, honest, but rough Night Watch, was 
 released, he did not stop to say a word, but rushed from 
 the house. Then he kept on his way, walking very 
 rapidly, until he came to a lonely spot — a covered bridge. 
 He now threw open his coat, vest, and shirt ; baring his 
 breast to the keen north-west wind, he sends forth a shrill 
 sort of sound, between a hiss and a whistle : 
 
 "W-h-e-w! w-h-e-w ! Come, now, poor heart, don't 
 burst through this hard, strong rind, this thick bark ! 
 W-h-e-w! . . . w-h-ew! .... 4 Peace ! be still/ 
 poor fluttering devil. I wonder what business such a car- 
 cass as this has with such a heart. — W-h-e-w! Well! 
 from this time I'm a better man. jSTo more coarse, low 
 9 
 
98 
 
 T II E N 1 G II T W A TCH. 
 
 connections. No more vulgar associates. No, no ! This 
 breast, black, coarse, and savage-looking as it is (and he 
 plucked fiercely at the luxuriant growth of black hair), 
 has supported an angel, and these arms have encircled 
 that heavenly form. Whew! my blood boils, and my 
 brain seems to shift about in my noddle. Oh, I do wish 
 I could get my chest cool once more. W-h-e-w ! " 
 
 "What is the matter, Murdoch?" said a rich, mellow, 
 friendly voice. " What are you doing with your clothes 
 open this frosty morning?" 
 
 The Night Watch averted his eyes as if afraid Colonel 
 Murray would read his secret. He endeavors to draw his 
 clothes together, over that broad, black chest, but he 
 becomes embarrassed, fumbles with his buttons, and 
 makes no headway. He now starts off, walking hurriedly 
 along, wishing to outstrip his companion. 
 
 " Why, friend Murdoch, what has brought you out here 
 before sunrise, with bare breast to court the northern 
 breeze in December? " 
 
 " Faith, I may ask you the same question." 
 
 " Not altogether a parallel case, I think, Murdoch. As 
 to myself, I am just at this time cursed with a sort of 
 unrest. I can not sleep, I can not read or write, and 
 worse than all, I can not stay at home." 
 
 The bear-skin man walks on moodily, without reply- 
 ing. Now he darts a keen glance at Murray, and is a 
 thousand times more jealous than before. The last half 
 hour, though, has made him more human. An hour ago, 
 and he was almost fiendish when thinking of his rival, as 
 he viewed him. 
 
 Oh ! divine love ! thine influence is marvelous on the 
 coarse and savage nature of man. How it softens, and 
 refines, and exalts, while it also ennobles. We speak of 
 that genuine spark which is from heaven, and not of its 
 semblance, which we think emanates from the other 
 place. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 99 
 
 " Murdoch, I have been looking for you. I wish to gain 
 some information on a subject with which I think you 
 must be acquainted. You saw me standing before the 
 window of that house on Market street? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly I did, three or four times. What 
 of it?" 
 
 " Well, my friend, that house contains the most lovely 
 child I ever beheld. I should like to know something of 
 his parentage. Will you tell me all you know, and have 
 heard?" 
 
 " I have heard very little, and I know less," replied the 
 Night Watch, with a dry, curt voice, impatient manner, 
 and dogged look. 
 
 Nothing dismayed, Col. Murray proceeded with his 
 queries. " How long have they been there ? " 
 
 " Not more than two or three weeks in that house, I 
 think." 
 
 " Have they lived elsewhere in the city ? " 
 " I believe they boarded at some hotel when they first 
 came." 
 
 " How many are there in the family ? " 
 
 u I think only an old lady, a child, and its mother." 
 
 u What name ? what do they call themselves ? " 
 
 " Wise, I think," answered the man, now with a deci- 
 dedly impatient manner. 
 
 "What is their occupation, and where do they come 
 from ? " 
 
 " Ah ! now you are too hard for me, sir. I don't know 
 that, and I don't think I've any right to know. My voca- 
 tion don't take me that far along, I'm thinking. The 
 young woman's got a sign upon the door. Haven't you 
 seen it?" 
 
 " A sign ? What sort of a sign ? " 
 
 " Fashionable dress-maker from New York. Good 
 morning, colonel, I have engagements." 
 
 Murray was filled with amazement. He walked on 
 
100 
 
 THE NIG II T XV A T C H . 
 
 rapidly, until he reaches the hovel, and passes several 
 times before the door : but all is still within. He now, 
 for the first time, remarks the " sign." 
 
 " Well, after all, I must be mistaken. It can't be she ; 
 but oh ! how like ! What a quandary I'm in ! One 
 moment I am convinced, the next I am filled with doubt. 
 I presume this is a just punishment for doubting the 
 word of my mother." 
 
 As he returns home, he meets old Faggot. 
 
 " I don't believe I have been out for two days or nights 
 that I have not encountered that old Jew. I dislike to 
 do so, for I always think of shame, crime, and misery 
 when I see him, carrying his head hid almost between his 
 shoulders, as he does when walking the street. He is a 
 strange creature : repulsive, and at the same time, attrac- 
 tive, if I may be allowed to use such a paradox." 
 
 Thus soliloquized Murray until he reached home. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 101 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A DOMESTIC SCENE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " Oh ! I have passed a miserable night, 
 So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 
 That as I am a Ohristain, faithful man, 
 I would not spend another such a night, 
 Though ; twere to buy a world of happy days : 
 So full of dismal terror was the time/ 7 
 
 Col. Murray and his imperious mother are making a 
 silent meal. It is dinner; himself, his mother, and little 
 daughter are seated at table. Three servants are in 
 attendance, one stationed behind each chair. You can 
 not conceive of the stateliness and solemnity of these 
 silent dinners. Everything is magnificent, and arranged 
 with the same particularity as if the Queen of England, 
 or the President of the United States, was going to dine 
 there by special invitation. 
 
 Mrs. Murray is dressed with the most elaborate care. 
 1 think I have before mentioned that she was about sixty 
 years old, but looking young even for forty. To-day she 
 is attired in a rich purple brocade, trimmed with velvet, 
 a shade or two darker than the silk ; very costly collar 
 and undersleeves. Her complexion is fine for any age ; 
 somewhat too sanguine, always, immediately after the 
 arduous duties of the toilette have been gotten through 
 with. She wears her own natural hair, but not its natu- 
 ral hue. It is now as black as midnight, and arranged in 
 full beautiful bandeaux. Her eyes are keen, piercing, 
 black ones, and like her hair, they glisten. Her teeth 
 are even and white, and artistically beautiful ; but they do 
 
102 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 not seem to be steadfast in her head, or they are particu- 
 larly sympathetic, for when she speaks, or laughs, or 
 eats, these finely polished ivories are seen to work up and 
 down, with responsive movement. But when the lady is 
 herself moved by anger, or any other violent agitation, 
 the teeth seem to be acted upon by the same influence, 
 shivering and shaking as if possessed of a separate life. 
 She is very spare and lathlike, thin even to attenuation. 
 But then she wears rich, flowing robes and handsome 
 drapery. That poor frame is generally concealed under 
 a mass of costly attire. 
 
 Col. Murray, — but, my dear reader, I will leave him to 
 your imagination. Just call to mind the handsomest 
 man you ever saw in all your life, on a grand scale, and 
 of the dark order. Then endow him with a gigantic 
 intellect, indomitable will, strong and fiery passions, affec- 
 tionate and glowing temperament, good, honest, upright 
 heart; let him be wayward and excentric (like all gen- 
 iuses), proud and unsocial, sometimes ungehial ; but all 
 these incongruities are tempered by good sense, and deep, 
 fervent, religious emotions. Then give him fine, large, deep, 
 lucid, black eyes ; black moustache, whiskers, and hair. 
 
 They had remained for some time after the cloth was 
 removed, over their wine ; up to this time preserving that 
 silence unbroken — even the little Genevieve seemed to be 
 afraid to prattle. Suddenly Col. Murray speaks, and his 
 voice, as usual, is rich, and deep, and impressive ; but it 
 has lost its mellow smoothness. 
 
 " Mother, where is Marianna Glencoe ? " 
 
 Mrs. Murray's face flushed the deepest crimson ; then as 
 the blood flowed back she became deathly pale — all but 
 those two spots in the center of each cheek. Her son 
 beholds this strange emotion with amazement, and now 
 repeats the question, watching her closely : 
 
 " Did you tell me, madam, that Marianna Glencoe was 
 dead f Am I mistaken ? " 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 103 
 
 She at length replies, but with evident effort : "Well, 
 who says she is not dead ? I'am sure nobody has a better 
 right to know than I, and I did tell you that they were 
 all dead ; and they are dead and buried." 
 
 " Do you say now, madam, that Marianna Grlencoe is 
 dead?" And he looked at her fixedly, as if he would 
 peer into her soul. 
 
 She could not meet that cold, keen, steel-like glance ; 
 it seemed to pierce her. She fell back in her chair. 
 
 Murray approached in alarm, but she signed him away, 
 and calling to her maid, retired to her room in great 
 disorder. Soon after, the girl came out, saying her mis- 
 tress was ill, and wished to see the family physician. He 
 sends James for Doctor Brown, and then, forgetting all 
 those conventionalities which had been taught him from 
 his cradle, and kept, up between mother and son with 
 such punctilious scrupulosity, was about to rush unbid- 
 den for the first time into her presence. But Tivvy meets 
 him at the door. 
 
 " Don't come in here, Mas'r Charles ; for your life don't 
 enter this room without leave and license." This was 
 spoken in a whisper. 
 
 " Then go back and tell my mother that I am waiting 
 to see her, and also most anxious to serve her in any way. 
 Tell her this, Tivvy, with my fervent love " 
 
 He remained at the door, expecting to be admitted, and 
 in answer to his respectful, affectionate message he hears 
 her shriek out: "Who? Charles Murray? He come in 
 here? Oh! God forbid! ~Nol no! no! Where is he? 
 Then lock that door. I would not have him come in here 
 for worlds. But, Tivvy, tell him I am very much obliged, 
 I wish to sleep now. When I can, I will send for him. 
 Oh, yes! certainly, greatly obliged." Then he heard a 
 sob, as if she were going into hysterics. 
 
 The girl was detained a short time with her mistress. 
 When she came out, she found Col. Murray sitting by the 
 
104 
 
 T II E N I G H T W A T C H . 
 
 parlor fire with his little daughter on his knee, looking 
 gloomily out of the window. 
 
 When that good, familiar creature, the family physi- 
 cian, came, he finds Mrs. Murray really ill. One convul- 
 sion after another makes her case an alarming one to even 
 the steady practitioner of twenty years. She is in bed, 
 but there has been no change made in the appointments 
 of her person, other than the rich brocade dress for that 
 of an equally rich robe de chambre of satin. 
 
 At first he found her so still and cold that he feared she 
 had died before he came. Yet those hectic spots were 
 there, as ever, glowing on the poor, lank cheeks. In 
 alarm, the doctor rings the bell. The maid starts up from 
 behind the bed, where she had been dozing, while her 
 mistress was dying. 
 
 " Go call your master, Tivvy ; I believe your mistress 
 is dead." 
 
 The girl shakes her head, saying, 
 " I can't do it, doctor; can't, indeed." 
 " Tivvy, I command you summon Col. Murray to the 
 death-bed of his mother." 
 
 " Can't do it, doctor. She made me swear that not even 
 to save my life, and hern too, would I ever let Mas'r 
 Charles come into her bedroom. If she was dead, and he 
 was to come in, 'twould make her stir." 
 
 " Strange state of things. I'll go myself. I fear Charles 
 Murray would never forgive me if I should let her die otf 
 and not warn him." 
 
 "Better not," says Tivvy. " See! didn't I tell you it 
 would make her stir, even though she be on the verge and 
 confines of the tother world. Look ! " Sure enough, 
 there she was trying to speak, and is able at last to 
 make him comprehend that on no account must he call in 
 her son. 
 
 " Well, it is no business of mine, but I must think that 
 it is deuced unnatural." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 105 
 
 " You see," said Tivvy, " she's very proud of Mas'r Con- 
 rad ; but, alas ! ah me ! alack-a-daisical ! there has come 
 a great change over 'em both in the few, last, several 
 years. And now, doctor, I declare I'm 'fraid she aint 
 got a drop of tenderness in her soul for him." (" Or for 
 anybody else, I'm thinking," threw in the doctor.) " Still 
 she's proud of him, and he just treats her at all times like 
 she w^as the sure-'nough, living, live Queen o' Sheepy. 
 Nothing makes this great man s'erve from his good pur- 
 poses, no how." 
 
 " Well, I know, Tivvy ; but when people come to die 
 they generally get over all these strange quirks and 
 qualms, and make a clean breast of it, as the Scotch say. 
 I think they ought." 
 
 " Yes, I think so too ; but, doctor, it'll not be so with 
 them, I tell you it won't, that's all. That secret, whatever 
 it is, and the grudge too, whatever it is, will go down to 
 the grave with 'em." 
 
 The doctor now approached the bed ; the poor invalid 
 has roused up, and by signs and a few incoherent words, 
 makes him comprehend that she wishes him to sit down 
 by her. She whispered again, telling the maid to leave. 
 
 " Now lock the door. Is all secure ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Doctor Brown. 
 
 " Then help me to rise." 
 
 Imagine the doctor's look. " Why, madam, you are out 
 of your head ! I did not suppose you could raise your 
 hand ; you are ill, Mrs. Murray ; I will not be responsible 
 for the consequences if you attempt to get up." 
 
 " I will take the responsibility on my own shoulders ; 
 but I shall rise. I have that to say, which being said in 
 bed will cause my speedy death." 
 
 " Madam, then I insist on your recumbent posture." 
 
 " But ere he had time to prevent it, without any aid, she 
 sat bolt upright in bed, saying, " I should like to know 
 
106 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 who is to dictate to me." Then she commenced speaking 
 in a strong, rather shrill voice : 
 
 " O Doctor, I know that that cold, haughty boy will be 
 the death of me at last. I can not live through another 
 such a scene." 
 
 "What is it, my dear madam?" placing his finger on 
 her pulse. " I am very much grieved ; yet it can't be 
 helped. You would have to undo more than half, maybe 
 jour whole life, before you could get things straightened 
 up. You have been prime minister at home, and princi- 
 pal actor in this sad drama so long, now you must fold 
 your arms and act audience while the plot of the play is 
 played out. You play no more, and there is no help for 
 you on earth. You had better try whether you can get 
 any from up there," pointing heavenward. 
 
 "Are you done, sir? Now let me talk, if your sermon 
 is ended." 
 
 " Go on, madam." 
 
 "Oh, you don't know how that wretched boy fright- 
 ened me." 
 
 The good doctor seeing that she was about to go off, 
 shook her somewhat rudely, which brought her to ; then 
 he seated himself by her side, and thus she continued to 
 sob and talk : 
 
 " O that I were dead ! O that I could be at rest ! " 
 
 "It would be as well," quoth the doctor. " Eest is a 
 very desirable thing. Most of us need it, and all like it. 
 I wish you were at peace (and rest too," muttered he 
 parenthetically, " then you could cause no more unrest to 
 the good and innocent). But to the point: "What new 
 trouble has turned up to-day, madam? " 
 
 " Oh, my God ! give me strength to tell it. He asked 
 me ; oh, he asked me if Marianna Glencoe was dead." 
 
 " Well," responded the doctor. 
 
 " Yes, he asked me in that low, ominous voice, and with 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 107 
 
 that thunder-cloud look, whether I still asserted that 
 Marianna Glencoe was dead." 
 " Well ! " again responded he. 
 
 " Well ! indeed. 'Tis not well ! There is nothing well ! 
 and I don't believe there ever will be anything well 
 again. I'm sure I never shall be " 
 
 " Amen ! " ejaculated Doctor Brown ! 
 
 " I hate everybody ! " 
 
 " Humph ! I don't doubt it," rejoined he. 
 
 " You, and all the world are leagued with him ; with 
 Charles Conrad Murray. Even that fool Tivvy has begun 
 to leer at him." 
 
 A faint smile lurking in the corners of the doctor's 
 mouth seems to enrage her. 
 
 " Yes, you, and she, and all of them, have formed a 
 combination against me. The devils, and all the fiends in 
 hell are conspiring, and my own son at the head of them," 
 almost shrieked the patient. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," added he, jocosely. 
 
 But now he found he had this time indulged his vein 
 of ironical humor beyond the point of discretion. It was 
 natural to him, and he sometimes used it with a view to 
 laugh her out of her whimseys — generally succeeding. 
 She must now be soothed ; but ere he could calm her per- 
 turbation, she relapses into hysteria. She is ill, and must 
 die, if the most efficient means are not used. So he calls 
 Tivvy, who was waiting at the door. 
 
 "Now, good girl, tell James to prepare a hot bath 
 instantly, and have it here in the shortest possible time. 
 
 When she returned, he said, " Eemove all this flummery; 
 put away all these falsehoods ; " indicating Mrs. Murray's 
 face. 
 
 Tivvy looked alarmed, and said, " Doctor I darsn't do 
 that, 'cept she be about going off." 
 
 " I tell you, girl, there is no time to lose. She'll be 
 dead before we get the bath, I fear." 
 
108 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Just then James and the cook came in bringing a huge 
 tub with steaming waiter. Soon after the poor creature 
 (at least as much as was left of her when Tivvy was 
 done " taking off and putting away ") was put into the 
 bath, her struggles ceased. Well they might — she had 
 fainted. 
 
 " Call in Murray. She's gone, I do believe ! " But that 
 order seemed to rouse her. She opened her eyes and 
 feebly shook her head. 
 
 " Ha ! didn't I tell you so? I believe it will resurrect 
 her when she is dead sure enough," said the lady's maid. 
 
 " It is wonderful ! " exclaimed Doctor Brown. " I never 
 saw anything like it in my life before." 
 
 "No, I reckon not. Nor no body else never did, 
 neither," says Tivvy. 
 
 When the poor old woman found herself dismantled 
 and robbed of all foreign aids and disguises, she com- 
 menced sobbing and wringing her hands, and screaming 
 at the top of her voice. But Doctor Brown and the faith- 
 ful, though frivolous maid, by their joint efforts succeeded 
 in quieting this violent spasmodic grief, frenzy, or what- 
 ever it was. He then placed her back in bed, and drugged 
 her heavily ; so she soon sunk into a deep sleep. After 
 feeling her pulse, and w T atching her for a few moments, he 
 took his hat and left the room. Tivvy followed him out. 
 
 " Doctor will she get over it? " The girl in speaking of 
 her mistress invariably used the pronoun for the noun. 
 Hence the habit of the domestics about the establishment 
 was to say she and her, and it was understood at once. 
 
 " Doctor, will she get well ? " repeated Tivvy. 
 
 " I don't know, Tivvy. That is with them up yonder," 
 pointing to heaven. "But, come, my good girl, and tell 
 all about it." 
 
 No sir, I can't; 'cause I don't know. I wish I did." 
 "Well, are you on your mistress's or your master's side, 
 girl ? " 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 109 
 
 u Lors a marcy ! bless your soul, sir, I aint on nobody's 
 side, 'cause I aint acquainted with them dark, deep, dread 
 secrets what's always eroding on her poor conscience, and 
 working and swurging up in Mas'r Charlie's mind." 
 
 " Don't Col. Murray's man know anything about the 
 cause of these singular outbreaks of the old lady, and the 
 settled gloom on poor Charles' spirits?" 
 
 u Can't say, sir ; don't think anybody knows much but 
 they ownselves. But I do know r one thing : jest as soon 
 as she wakes out of that sleep, she won't hardly wait to 
 fix on her things, before she'll send me right off after old 
 Faggot." 
 
 "What, that old Jew Devil ? Old fire and Faggot? 
 You don't tell me so ? Why, he would prove a second 
 1 Merchant of Venice ' toward anybody who had the mis- 
 fortune to owe him a dollar. I would not wish the great- 
 est enemy I have any greater hell than to fall into the 
 clutches of this old Faggot. This is really the worst fea- 
 ture in the case. Send for that old hell-hound ! What 
 does she want with him? " 
 
 " I don't know, sir ; but jest as soon as she wakes up, 
 if it's even midnight, I'll be 'spatched after him, that's 
 all." 
 
 " She will not wake to-night, Tivvy ; you can go to 
 sleep." 
 
 " Won't she, though ? Well, I'm sorry for her, anyhow, 
 but what a life I lead. Jest think of it ! I'm bound to 
 be faithful to her, but she's so hard to serve. Col. Mur- 
 ray is not, and I might succeed in 'scuring his favor ef I'd 
 blab ; but I won't 'peach, it's so mean." 
 
 " I thought you didn't know nothing in the world, no 
 how, Tivvy?" 
 
 The girl looked down, and the red blood mounted to 
 her temples, and showed itself through her tawny skin. 
 
 " Well ! no more'n I don't. Anyhow, nobody knows 
 
110 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 that I know what I does know," said the negro, gloomily 
 and significantly. 
 
 " Tivvy, does Conrad never get you into a tight place 
 by asking you questions about it? " 
 
 " Question me ! Col. Murray question and 'terrogate a 
 nigger ! Now, I know, doctor, you is joking. Why, you 
 jest as soon think that one of them golden angels from 
 the New Jerusalem would come down and hold a converse 
 with a ' black-me-moor,' as Mas'r Charles. I reckon he'd 
 knock me down ef I was to tell him that she sent me after 
 old Faggot." 
 
 "Never mind, then, say no more. I thought you spoke 
 of telling him something, and I presumed on that." 
 
 " So I did, and sometimes I think I ought ; then I think 
 I oughtn't. I reckon, though, ef he ever once got a 
 inkling of what I knows, he'd listen." 
 
 " Well, will you tell him ? " 
 
 u I don't know, I can't tell 'zactly whether it's destina- 
 ted for me to do it or not ; but I reckon it taint. If it is 
 my destination to tell him., I'll be forced to do it. If not, 
 I can't. Now, that's the sum total of the matter." 
 
 When Doctor Brown passed along the hall, on his way 
 out, he heard the slow, measured step of Murray in the 
 parlor, as he paced the room. He looked in. At first he 
 did not raise his eyes, and knew not that the doctor was 
 there until the latter spoke. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear sir, I'm very hapj)y to see you ; take a 
 seat. How is my mother? " 
 
 " Doing very well now, sir ; but she's been bad, — bad 
 indeed ; pretty nigh gone, when I arrived." 
 
 " Good God ! why was I not called ? " 
 
 " Couldn't," answered the doctor, frowning. 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 " Can't tell, don't know. If you don't know yourself, 
 I've no right to know. Good night, sir," said the good, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Ill 
 
 upright, well-meaning, but bustling little Doctor Brown, 
 who left the magnificent Murray to his own somber reflec- 
 tions, and plods on his way cheerily, doing his duty. 
 
 Murray continued to pace the room. 
 
 " Oh ! God ! to think that after this lapse of years, in 
 which I have so honored and loved my mother, I should 
 now be forced to doubt her truth — that my faith should 
 be shaken in my own mother, who was my standard. Oh ! 
 my soul is very dark." 
 
 He sits down, meekly leaning on his hand and weeps. 
 Yes, that proud, cold, and sometimes stern man, who in 
 the world bears himself so grandly, sits there and weeps 
 over what he thinks is his mother's first dereliction from 
 her exalted morality. There is so much that is incompre- 
 hensible, such dark, deep mystery ; her violent agitation ; 
 her startled and bewildered look, when he asked her that 
 question. 
 
 He starts up wildly, strikes his clenched hand against 
 his forehead, and rushes from the house. When in the 
 street, he finds all very quiet and peaceful. The gentle 
 moon hangs in the heavens, shining on calmly and sweetly. 
 The few little stars that have not been forced to hide 
 their diminished heads in her superior light, seem to twin- 
 kle with gladness. The rude northern blast is hushed, or 
 only heard in distant moanings. All nature is sleeping 
 and being renovated for the duties of the coming day. 
 Only man, vile man is restless and perturbed. 
 
 Murray walks on regardless of all ; alike heedless of 
 time or place, until he arrives at that portion of the city 
 where the houses are old and moldering to decay. In 
 one little window of an old hovel a faint light glimmers. 
 
 " Ha ! " with a sudden recollection. " Ha ! It was here 
 on this spot, through that little window, that I gazed on 
 that vision of beauty. Her semblance — Oh, how perfect ! 
 "Who can she be ? Would that I knew ! If Marianna be 
 dead (and it must be so), then who is this?" 
 
112 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C II . 
 
 He was roused from his r every by a groan, or rather a 
 deep-drawn sigh near him. By the light of that sweet 
 moon he descries a huge figure, clad in coarse furs, leaning 
 against the lamp-post. Ere he had time to accost him, he 
 had glided away. 
 
 Murray now takes his place, and peers keenly into the 
 window ; but nothing is revealed. All within is still and 
 dark. 
 
 He returns home. On entering the house a feverish 
 desire to see his mother seizes upon him. He calls to 
 mind, that since his childhood he has never been permit- 
 ted to enter that chamber unannounced, and then some- 
 times after long delay. Yet he seems unable to resist the 
 affectionate impulse of his kind nature. He steals softly 
 to the door — hesitates. Is this wrong? Is it a violation 
 of any law save that of foolish etiquette, for a son to 
 approach his sick mother uncalled? Oh, no! Nature, 
 duty, religion — all would sanction this act. 
 
 He enters. A small flame of gas issues from the burner, 
 intended for a night-lamp. Everything is arranged with 
 great precision — for Tivvy is well trained. She has 
 fallen asleep in that gorgeous rocking-chair. Her head 
 droops on one side ; one hand hangs over the arm, her 
 foot is on the velvet stool — just the attitude in which, her 
 mistress always dozed. Tivvy was an ardent admirer of 
 Mrs. Murray's grand ways, and aped them. 
 
 He bestows one look of kindly indulgence on the sleep- 
 ing maid : then turns to the bed. "What means that start? 
 that bewildered look? 
 
 " < Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! ' What do 
 I behold? Where is my mother? Tivvy — good girl, 
 come here. Get up, Tivvy." 
 
 He shakes her violently, but she slumbers on. 
 
 Murray jerks her up, and at the same time catching up 
 a glass of water, dashes it fiercely into her face. She opens 
 her eyes, and stares distractedly at him. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 113 
 
 u Lord a marcy ! Mas'r Charles Conrad Murray — yon 
 in here, and she undressed. Oh, pray, sir, go out. Oh, 
 she'll sell me to the 'soul drivers,' away from James Eoss, 
 my 'spoused husband,' if she finds it out." She drops on 
 her knees, sobbing out — "Oh, Mas'r Charles, would you 
 bring all this sorrow and disgrace on a poor 'fianced nig- 
 ger maiden. I tell you, Mas'r Conrad, we's got feelings 
 and 'fections, same as you, if our skins is black." 
 
 " Hush, Tivvy ! my mother will never know I have 
 come in to see her a moment at midnight, because she 
 spurned me from the door yesterday. I came in to crave 
 her blessing. I can not exist while estranged from her." 
 
 " How did you git in? I thought I fastened the door." 
 
 " No, I came by that door, and not through the key- 
 hole, as your alarmed looks would indicate. Calm your- 
 self ; no harm shall come to you. Now, Tivvy, come 
 here, and tell me who this care-worn, emaciated, misera- 
 ble-looking aged person is ? and w T here is my handsome 
 mother? " He drags the maid to the bedside, and points 
 to old Mrs. Murray, now unmasked. 
 
 " Why, Mas'r Charlie, is you losing your nine senses 
 that away? Why that's her ; your own grand, aristocrati- 
 cus mother, and my poor old Mistress. Indeed, that's 
 her." 
 
 " Oh no, girl ! it can't be ; I can not recognize my fine- 
 looking mother in that wasted form there." 
 
 " It's her though, Mas'r Charlie, notwithstanding, never- 
 theless, for all that." 
 
 " Poor mother," says he, dropping on his knees, " have 
 I done this? My asking that one question, has it caused 
 this fearful spoliation ? Is remorse, then, so voracious 
 as to swallow up all thy good looks in one night? " He 
 kisses his mother's withered hand, and weeps again. 
 
 " Oh Luddy! Oh Lucldy! Mas'r Charles, what makes 
 you take on so? you didn't do nothing to her; she's only 
 10 
 
114 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 got all her things off. She looks just that away every 
 night. Come, hush up, now. Look, here she is ! " 
 
 She raised the lid of a dressing-case, and disclosed to 
 the wonder-stricken man those marvelous works of art, 
 by whose power the old and ugly are rejuvenated and 
 made pretty. 
 
 " Oh, Tivvy, I am amazed. What are these?" toying 
 w^ith the different cosmetics, and pointing to the pearly 
 teeth. 
 
 " He! he! he!" giggled the negro. " Why them's her 
 fixins, w r hat reforms her into a middle aged handsome 
 lady. . . . The Lord of Hosties ! I've done let it out ! 
 I did'nt never mean to tell! Oh ! oh ! That's one of her 
 secrets what she's always been a keeping from her own 
 son. Oh, Mas'r Charles, she'll burn, or hang me alive, if 
 she hears." 
 
 He could not refrain from bursting out into a spasmodic 
 laugh, the girl's terror was so ludicrous. 
 
 Now the patient moved ; roused perhaps by that un- 
 natural cachinnation. She mutters " Tivvy, Tivvy, come 
 here — don't you know I can't speak? Yes. Well, tell 
 him to come, but under cover of night, mind you. The 
 usurious Jew dog ! I must see him once more, anyhow. 
 Accursed dog, of an accursed race! " She opens her eyes; 
 they fall on her son. 
 
 " Well, Faggot — you are here, are you? Did any one 
 see you enter? How, old infidel! methinks you are look- 
 ing wondrous well, to-night? " 
 
 Tivvy jumps at Col. Murray and forces him out, shuts 
 the door, and locks it. When she returns to the bed-side, 
 her mistress has fallen asleep. The maid seats herself in 
 the same luxurious arm chair, draws a long breath, and 
 ejaculates to herself — 
 
 " Well : I know I'm a poor, ruinated, done up nigger ! 
 if Mas'r Charlie Conrad Murray was like everybody else." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH, 
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A YOUNG RAYEN FED. 
 
 " Speak gently, kindly, to the poor ; 
 Let no harsh term be heard ; 
 They have enough they must endure, 
 Without an unkind word." 
 
 Doctor Brown was roused the morning after the pre- 
 ceding events by a messenger, but before he had dressed, 
 or even made his ablutions our friend Murdoch, alias 
 " the bear-skin man," alias the Night Watch, made his 
 appearance in the doctor's sleeping room. 
 
 " Ha ! Murdoch, you are early, and you come unan- 
 nounced ; but you are welcome, Murdoch, for I know a 
 good and true heart beats under that savage, wild beast 
 hide of yours." 
 
 u Thank you, doctor ; but I didn't come to bandy com- 
 pliments. I come on business." 
 
 " Well, my friend, you are equally welcome. What 
 is it?" 
 
 The man hesitates, and his face grows fiery red, and his 
 eyes glow like the live coals in the grate. 
 
 A quick perception of what was going on in the hiding 
 places of that rough man's heart, takes hold of the little 
 doctor, and he chokes down a disposition to laugh out 
 right. 
 
 Murdoch, in the twinkling of an eye, sprang up, 
 and seized him by the arm, exclaiming angrily, " What 
 are you laughing at, sir ? God knows, it is no laughing 
 matter." 
 
116 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " You are a fool, Murdoch. I am not laughing at you ; 
 my throat, these frosty mornings, gets full of phlegm." 
 
 The Night Watch reseats himself, looking very much 
 abashed, still eyeing the doctor with distrust. 
 
 " Come, come, man ! tell me. I'm called this morning, 
 else I'd not be out of bed so early. How can I be of ser- 
 vice to you?" 
 
 "Why I called this morning — I called — I — I just 
 called," and then he fairly broke down. 
 
 " Yes, I know you did," says the doctor, coming to the 
 fire. But finding his companion to be overcome by some 
 strange embarrassment, he abruptly led to the subject, 
 which he sees is making such a boy of the man. 
 
 " See here, Murdoch, I have been so occupied, that I 
 have not had time to call again to see our beautiful patient 
 down Market street. Can you tell me how she is ? " 
 
 " Well, it is that which has brought me here this morn- 
 ing, so early. I havn't seen her since, either; but good 
 little Minny Dun says she's powerful bad off. Minny is 
 in and out every hour, and helps them a great deal. 
 That's a great little creature, that Minny Dun. Now, 
 Dr. Brown, you've been acquainted with Murdoch, the 
 Night Watch, a long time." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did you ever know him to do a dishonest or mean 
 act?" 
 "No." 
 
 " Did you ever know him to tell a lie ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Good ! Did you ever know him to do a foolish 
 thing ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What? " says the other, starting up. 
 
 " Oh, sit down, Murdoch, and tell your tale out, for God's 
 sake ! I have only five minutes more to wait," looking 
 at his watch. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 117 
 
 " You know, also, doctor, that I am a poor man ; but 
 you didn't know, I reckon, that poverty can keep a little 
 fund for charity, did you, doctor? " 
 
 "No — yes — I don't know whether I did or not; 
 go on." 
 
 The man stretches himself out, and taking from his 
 breeches pocket a soiled silk purse, indifferently well filled 
 with small silver and gold coin, chucks it into the open 
 
 palm of the doctor, "There! " wipes his eyes with his 
 
 coat-sleeve, rises, and is about to depart without further 
 explanation. 
 
 " Stop, my friend, I have no bill against you. What 
 does this mean ? " 
 
 He returns, looks fixedly at the doctor, while the blood 
 again rushes to his face, his temples, and even to his eyes ; 
 then drawing quite near to him, whispers, " Supply that 
 poor lady with all she needs for herself and family. Give 
 her every attention, furnish all medicines, and save her ! 
 Oh, save her doctor ! and I'll bind myself to you for life. 
 Excuse me, sir ;" dropping his eyes under the astonished 
 gaze of his companion. Then again, lowering his voice 
 to a gentle monotone, " I mean I'll become general pay- 
 master." Without waiting for a reply, he hurries from 
 the house. 
 
 The doctor looks after him, exclaiming, " There goes 
 the noblest work of God ! His best mechanism was used 
 to form the heart of that brawny, rough fellow. Would 
 I were rich ! he, nature's nobleman, should not pace these 
 streets all night, in such strict fidelity to his office, cry- 
 ing, £ All's well,' when, as poor old Mrs. Murray says, 'all 
 never is well.' Satan himself is oftentimes let loose in 
 these streets, and then of course 1 is to pay.' Still that hon- 
 est Night Watch on his way, having hushed the uproar, 
 and smothered the devil, cries, 'All's well.' Good, upright 
 soul ! that's the only lie I ever knew him tell. Just so 
 soon as I have made this visit, I will call to see his 1 lady- 
 
118 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 love;' for by heavens! that savage 'bear-skin' is head 
 over heels in love with the divine creature. How tame 
 he has become under its influence ! As docile as a lamb, 
 a dove, or a new born babe." 
 
 When Dr. Brown had made his visit to the patient 
 above mentioned, he turned his steps toward that lowly 
 cot. On arriving, the door is opened by the same beauti- 
 ful boy with the golden curls. 
 
 " Come in, sir ; Oh ! I am so glad to see you," says the 
 dear little fellow, as he waves him in. 
 
 " How is your mother, my darling ? " 
 
 " I think, sir, she is better. Come and see." 
 
 He leads the doctor to his mother, who' looks at the 
 lady with an expression of surprise as well as admiration. 
 
 " How are you to-day, Mrs. Wise ? " 
 
 u Thank you, sir, better now." And she drops those 
 curtains, those long, silken fringes over her heavenly blue 
 eyes, thereby concealing them from the ardent gaze of 
 the mercurial little man. Those singularly fascinating 
 eyes seemed to exercise a sort of mesmeric influence over 
 every beholder. I scarcely think the lady was aware of 
 this power. We know that she did not intend to use it. 
 
 While the doctor busies himself in finding and counting 
 that feeble pulse, he devours her face and person with his 
 glances. Oh ! how exquisitely beautiful he thinks her ; 
 even that word becomes tame and insufficient when ap- 
 plied to that incomparable woman. Her rich, dark hair 
 has escaped from under the little snowy cap ; her arms and 
 neck are enveloped in a loose drapery of fine white linen ; 
 all the other surroundings, as she lay there so calm and 
 peaceful, are also replete with purity ; while chaste refine- 
 ment is blended with severe simplicity. Even the atmos- 
 phere seems rarified and purer than elsewhere. In a small 
 vase by the bedside is a sweet rose, and a few geranium 
 leaves. 
 
 " Ha ! roses and green leaves ? " taking them up. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Wise, opening her eyes only 
 again to meet the fervent, admiring look of her com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Where did you get them ? " 
 
 " Dear Minny brought them, I think, from heaven. 
 Indeed, sir, she must have dropped down from that place. 
 None but a ministering angel could be as good, and do 
 exactly as she does. Did you ever see Minny, Doctor ? " 
 
 "No — yes — I think I did meet her here a few days 
 ago, mam." 
 
 " You would not think her pretty at first, but when you 
 come to know her as well as I do, you would be sure to 
 love her, and think her the prettiest creature in all the 
 world." 
 
 " One exception, I'd make one exception," said he, 
 snatching up her hand, intending to carry it to his lips ; 
 but finding the delicate creature recoil from this rudeness, 
 he placed his finger on her pulse again. 
 
 A neatly-spread breakfast table occupied one corner of 
 the room ; a nice, cheerful little fire blazed in the grate. 
 The child's clothes looked clean and comfortable, thanks 
 to little Minny Dun, and he and his mother are certainly 
 very beautiful. 
 
 Presently the old lady came in from the shed, her 
 sleeves rolled up over her elbows, a clean white apron on. 
 She proclaims her occupation in the kitchen by her cold, 
 red hands, and the napkin thrown across her shoulders. 
 
 Doctor Brown sees nothing to indicate want ; is there- 
 fore afraid to intimate to the inmates of the place the 
 beneficent purpose of that poor Night Watch, or to make 
 any overtures of the sort on his own behalf. Still his 
 heart is swelling with the most generous promptings. 
 He resolves to call again the same night, and if possible 
 find some mode by which he can put his benevolent im- 
 pulses into practice. 
 
120 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Ah ! little did he know what pinching poverty, what 
 fearful want was concealed under that pleasing exterior. 
 The old lady had just cooked the last morsel of food, that 
 poor invalid had used the last grain of tea, and the last 
 cup is quaffed in its crude state. The night before they 
 had used the last candle, this morning burned the last 
 piece of coal, and the last splinter of wood has been used 
 to prepare that meager breakfast. Moreover, the last 
 dime had been sent to the post-office, hoping the letter 
 advertised might be the one so long looked for : but 
 instead of which comes an insulting declaration from some 
 roue of the city, who had heard of her marvelous beauty, 
 and, as he asserted had seen her at the window. 
 
 Still the grandmother complains not; not a feeling of 
 distrust finds an abiding place in that good old trusting 
 bosom. The child is instructed to keep all a secret from 
 his mother. But what are they to do ? The invalid must 
 be kept warm. She must have nourishing diet, and above 
 all, she must not be disturbed. After the old lady has 
 waited on her children, and restored all things to their 
 former tidy state, she sits down to deliberate. " I can 
 not, I w T ill not tax dear Minny, further. She has not only 
 given us her sympathy, and her time, but her substance 
 also. I must hide our present necessities from her, else 
 will she take the bread from her own mouth to feed us." 
 
 "Grandma," says the child, "mamma has fallen asleep 
 now, let me steal away and try to^find something to do to 
 make a few cents for you and her. Can't I work some, 
 grandma ? " 
 
 " Sweet darling, what sort of work could you do, with 
 your baby hands? Sit down, child, God will help us 
 again in his own good time. Eemember, dear one, ' He 
 feeds the young ravens, and clothes the lilies of the field, 
 which toil not, neither do they spin.' " 
 
 So poor Clarence sat down and twirled his little cap, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 121 
 
 and sung a little song. Yet that dear child scarce ate a 
 morsel that morning, so fearful was he that he might be 
 taking from his mother or grandmother. 
 
 Presently, Myra said, in a weary, faint voice, " Dear 
 grandma, can't you give me a cracker, I think I could 
 eat now." 
 
 The child knew there was not such a thing in the house. 
 He goes up to his mother, kisses her affectionately, then 
 slips out of the room. He runs on without seeming to 
 have any definite object in view. The cold is pinching, 
 and the tears are forced from that little Spartan soul. He 
 still moves on ; he will not beg, and he does not know 
 where to ask for employment. 
 
 Presently, he comes to a large house against which a 
 boy is pasting up bills. He stops and reads : " Wanted, a 
 child about six years old, to take a simple part in the 
 following plays, etc." While he stands there weeping, 
 and reading by turns, the manager comes up. 
 
 " What's the matter, my little fellow ? " 
 
 " I am reading this advertisement." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I think I could do what is required here." 
 "Well?" 
 
 " And would like to engage, but my mother is starving 
 and freezing to death at this moment, so that " 
 
 " Oh yes : so are many others, my son. Still the pub- 
 lic's maw must be catered to. Their appetites must be 
 coaxed, if ten thousand mothers freeze and starve to 
 death." 
 
 The child turned away. He had scarcely passed the 
 angle of the wall before he is accosted by another person. 
 
 " How old are you, my little man?" said this stranger, 
 taking his hand. 
 
 u Six years old, sir." 
 
 " Can you read, my dear, and sing ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, sir." 
 11 
 
122 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Then come with me." He leads him into the box- 
 office ; for that large, rambling old house is tho theater, 
 and that man is the first manager. When seated, he takes 
 the child between his knees, and reads him the adver- 
 tisement. 
 
 " Yes sir, I have just been reading it, and was thinking 
 of asking for the place ; but I can't wait for the pay ; " and 
 he burst into tears. 
 
 " Why, to-morrow morning is not so long, my son ; 
 then you shall have it." 
 
 The poor orphan looked at him, and then remembering 
 the rebuff he had received from the man on the street, 
 he hid his face between his hands and continued to weep. 
 
 " My little friend you shall have your pay, all in good 
 time." 
 
 Clarence peeped over his hands at the speaker, and 
 seeing nothing in his face but benevolence, sobbed out, 
 
 " O sir ! by to-morrow my dear mother may be dead. 
 She is starving and freezing to death, I fear, at this 
 moment. If I do not find some way to make a few cents 
 to carry home to her she will be gone. She has been very 
 ill, and now needs a few little nice things, which we have 
 not, and can't get. Dear sir, if you would only give me a 
 little piece of money in advance, I promise you, upon the 
 honor of a gentleman's son, that I will come back and 
 work for you — bring coal, or wood, or do anything that 
 is respectable." 
 
 " What then is your father's name, my child?" 
 
 Poor little Clarence hung down his head, looking 
 troubled. " I don't want to say, sir. My mother don't 
 wish me to speak." 
 
 The man dashed a tear from his own eyes, takes a 
 sovereign from his pocket, gives it to the child, embraces 
 him, and says, " I will trust to that gentleman's son, who- 
 ever he may be." 
 
 " I'll come back. Oh sir, I'll come back ; if life is spared 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 123 
 
 me, I'll come back." He throws up his little cap, and 
 shouts loudly, dancing about the floor, " huzza ! huzza ! " 
 then darts into the street. 
 
 The man had watched him with an artist's eye, and 
 marked him for his own. 
 
 "Why sir, that child will prove a treasure to us. He 
 will bring us crowded houses for six months. Did you 
 observe him, sir? He is the most beautiful and graceful 
 creature I ever beheld. Besides, I think he has genius, 
 and a decided vocation for the stage." 
 
 " Maybe so ; we'll see," said the second manager. 
 
 Meantime Clarence had run all the way home ; on 
 reaching there he was almost exhausted. He found the 
 old lady sitting w r here he left her ; he falls into her arms 
 and laughs wildly, at the same time showing her the 
 money. 
 
 " Ah ! dear child, didn't I say so ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed you did, grandma, and I begin to think 
 that I am a sure-enough ' young raven.' You know I've 
 been fed so often. Will I begin to croak presently, mam ? " 
 
 " God bless our beautiful treasure ! " 
 
 In a moment after, he had fallen asleep on the floor. 
 The old lady puts on her bonnet and shawl to go out for 
 the purpose of laying in a stock of provisions. When she 
 returns both mother and child are sleeping soundly and 
 sweetly. She takes the boy up very tenderly, and places 
 him on the bed. 
 
124 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE SIREN. 
 
 " Oh ! how the passions, insolent and strong, 
 Bear our weak minds their course along ; 
 Make us the madness of their will obey, 
 Then die and leave us to our griefs a prey." 
 
 We now return, after a lapse of some weeks, to the 
 beautiful but haughty Miss Lindsay. During this inter- 
 val she has had many alternations of feeling. Sometimes 
 throwing off the incubus which hung over her, she gets 
 the better of the mortification, grief, and chagrin induced 
 by the seeming disdain of her lover ; then she plunges 
 into dissipation, and flirts with all sorts of men ; listens 
 to the impassioned love-making of the polished young 
 dandy, Mr. Josiah Gaines ; coquets with some dozen oth- 
 ers, and in a fit of madness makes overtures to the Gov- 
 ernor. But just as surely does she return home to weep 
 and toss the whole night on that bed of thorns, made so 
 by self-reproach and wounded pride. 
 
 She rarely now meets Col. Murray at any of those fash- 
 ionable resorts. Sometimes he would glide by when she 
 was engrossed with her frivolous pleasures ; perhaps 
 surrounded by her satellites, some ten or a dozen things, 
 who, like moths, seek to buzz around the brightest light, 
 thinking it honor enough to get their wings singed, and 
 those little dried up things, which beat so faintly in the 
 place where a heart ought to throb, scorched by that 
 blaze of beauty, the reigning belle. Miss Gertrude Lind- 
 say is worth half a million of dollars in her own right; 
 is pretty, nay, I should rather say handsome ; is stylish 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 125 
 
 and accomplished, and has received the niast finished edu- 
 cation in the French school of etiquette, with all the various 
 and multifarious conventionalities appertaining thereto. 
 She dresses magnificently. Her temper is imperious and 
 exacting, nay, as despotic as an autocrat, where she 
 can exercise power. She has great strength of will, and 
 some strength of mind, when not overruled, or obscured 
 by her passions, which are very violent. Her heart — 
 well, her heart, we will leave that to the great " Searcher 
 of hearts." 
 
 When she would thus meet Murray in the giddy throng, 
 he never seemed to notice or care what her pursuits were, 
 or with whom she might be ; but would smile faintly, 
 bow slightly, and pass on, never stopping to speak. 
 
 Once she was so reckless, or forgetful of all true wo- 
 manly dignity as to follow him, and slip a note into his 
 hand. This note had been carefully prepared at home, 
 artfully to bear the marks of haste and agitation, as an 
 impromptu. 
 
 " Dear Conrad — In God's name, what is the meaning 
 of this treatment? "What have I done? I challenge you 
 to bring the charge. The merest culprit may meet his 
 accusers and hope for justice, but I am doomed to endure 
 a foretaste of the damned, without knowing wherefore. 
 In an hour more I shall feign sickness (God knows it 
 will be no feint : a real sickness of the heart I have at 
 times). I shall presently brush off these musquitoes, and 
 return home. Meet me there in my boudoir. You must 
 come, Charles. I find I can not live in this state of in- 
 certitude. Shall I expect you? or will you disappoint 
 me again ? 
 
 " P. S. Ann will meet you at the door. 
 
 Gertrude." 
 
 Murray had withdrawn from the crowd, to read the 
 
126 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 note, not with the whirlwind impatience of a lover, but 
 with that chivalrous respect which every high-toned gen- 
 tleman feels for the sex ; together with a sense of duty, 
 calling for a sacrifice of personal comfort for the time being, 
 to the demands of any lady who might chance to need 
 his attention. He smiled a little bit scornfully. "Poor 
 Gertrude," thought he, w so proud, so arrogant to all oth- 
 ers ! Where is now your vaunted independence? " 
 
 He folded his arms, and was falling into abstraction, 
 when he was roused by a commotion in the adjoining 
 room. Presently a party of ladies and gentlemen came 
 through the hall where he was standing. He caught a 
 few words : " Hold up her head. Don't let her arms drag 
 so. Mr. Gaines, don't hold her so tightly." Gertrude 
 had fainted really, and Murray saw his affianced bride in 
 the arms of the most consummate fop, and the veriest 
 roue in the city — Messrs. Gaines and Calderwood. Her 
 head was resting on the shoulder of the former, and as 
 he turned his to speak to his co-worker in this labor of 
 love, his lips came in contact with the alabaster forehead 
 of the lady. 
 
 But Murray looked on without emotion ; not a troubled 
 wave of jealousy swept over his breast at the sight. He 
 smiled, and maybe his luxuriant moustache did move with 
 a little ripple of scorn. 
 
 They passed on. Then he leisurely walked to the 
 cloak-room, takes his, wraps it about him, and without 
 the least impatience wends his way to meet his lady-love. 
 Oh ! what mockery ! 
 
 On arriving, Ann meets him at the street door. He is 
 not suffered to ring the bell. 
 
 "Don't make a noise, please," says Ann. 
 
 " Why, is your mistress so ill ? " 
 
 " I don't. know, sir ; she told me to say dat ; now I done 
 say it, I can't not follow up, and comperhend Miss Gut- 
 trude." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 127 
 
 " Where is your master? " 
 
 The girl nodded toward his room. 
 
 Murray frowned darkly ; all was explained. This was 
 to be a clandestine meeting, and he was not pleased. 
 
 The girl opened her mistress's door very softly, and 
 then vanished. 
 
 'Now to any other man than the pre-occupied, unloving 
 one before us, the scene which breaks on his vision would 
 have been one of ravishing delight and bewilderment. 
 The appointments of the lady's boudoir are in keeping 
 with herself. Magnificent sofas, divans, chairs, etc., all of 
 blue silk plush ; curtains of cerulean hue, richly wrought 
 in delicate colors, portraying classic scenes. A delicious 
 perfume is breathed throughout the apartment. The gas 
 is reduced, and made to send forth a mellowed light. 
 Under that gorgeous burner stands a mosaic table, on 
 which lay a few new works, all beautifully bound, with 
 many other costly nothings. Here and there, and every- 
 where, are scattered letters in pink, blue, white, and even 
 yellow embossed envelops, bearing on their backs the 
 address of the elegant proprietor of this bower of en- 
 chantment. 
 
 The lady is reclining on the sofa, in the most approved 
 attitude, it having been wheeled to the fire. She has 
 exchanged her magnificent vestments of gauze, satin, 
 lace, gold, and diamonds, for a more comfortable, but not 
 less costly robe-de-chambre of delicate pink silk velvet. 
 In removing the tiara of diamonds (worthy to press the 
 brow of a princess) her hair has become unfettered, and 
 now falls in rich masses over her neck and shoulders. 
 She is pale, but still looking very regal ; and to-night 
 pretty. There is a softened expression, a languor, which 
 is peculiarly becoming to some women. Her eyes are 
 closed. 
 
 Murray stands looking at her, and for the first time 
 there is a feeling stirring within his bosom akin to pas- 
 
128 
 
 THE N I G H T W A T C H . 
 
 sion for that splendid creature, who is so certainly his 
 own whenever he chooses to appropriate her. u While 
 the lover is gazing at the lovely picture, surprised at his 
 own emotions, he notes two big tears force their way 
 from under the closed lids, and roll down her cheeks." 
 
 "Ann, has Conrad come yet? Oh ! How tardy he is? I 
 would have flown to him, did he permit me." 
 
 " I am here, Gertrude," said Murray, approaching 
 her. She starts up with an exclamation of irrepressi- 
 ble joy. 
 
 " Oh ! I have w T aited so long, and have wished so much 
 for this hour!" Leaning on her elbow, she weeps in 
 silence. The large oriental sleeve has fallen back and 
 reveals the bare arm to the shoulder. That arm is beau- 
 tiful — it might have furnished the model for the Greek 
 slave. 
 
 He sits down by her, takes her hand, and presses it 
 gently, then carries it to his lips. The conversation now 
 ensues, which is related in part (with many variations) 
 by the lady's maid, to Miss Moggy Ann Cams — with due 
 allowance for the inventive genius of all negro slaves. 
 This time there are gross discrepancies, and an astonish- 
 ing mistake of time and place. 
 
 " Conrad ! you have ceased to love me. How have I 
 offended you ? Why do you thus evermore neglect and 
 avoid me ? " 
 
 " Cease all upbraidings, Gertrude. In sooth, I'm in no 
 mood to listen." 
 
 " Oh, God ! cold as ever ! Will nothing move that flinty 
 heart? Would I were dead ? If I have outlived your love, 
 Murray, I do not prize existence, and will throw it from 
 me." She weeps again, and wringing her hands, adds : 
 
 "Tell me at once — let me know — whether I am thus 
 wretched?" She takes his hand again, which in her 
 violent excitement she had thrown from her, and looks 
 pleadingly into his face. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 129 
 
 Col. Murray withdraws it, rises to his feet, and folds his 
 arms, looking proudly down on her. 
 
 " Gertrude, have I ever told you I loved you? Have I 
 for one moment deceived you in this? Have I not rather 
 always said, that my heart was withered, shriveled like a 
 dried leaf just ready to fall? Blame me not — I have no 
 spirit, no feelings to meet your ardent nature. I am 
 pained to think that yours are squandered on a soulless 
 man." 
 
 She takes his hand again, and exclaims passionately — 
 " I care not ! I do not love you less for this," pressing 
 his fingers to her lips. 
 
 " Come, come, Gertrude, do not waste such fine senti- 
 mentality upon me. Eefrain, I beseech you. Do you not 
 see that I am as impassive as marble ; cold and incensate, 
 blind to all such things, as the poor mole that burrows 
 beneath the earth?" 
 
 The lady covers her face with her hands and sobs out — 
 " Then will you leave me to die ? Will you cast me off 
 and desert me again ? " 
 
 u Mo, Gertrude, I intend to comply with that marriage 
 contract. As I am pledged so will I fulfill. I have this 
 day renewed this promise to my mother, whose heart 
 seems to be set on the alliance. I can not tell wherefore, 
 but she seems to desire, with a feverish impatience, to 
 witness our happiness : that is, your happiness and my 
 prosperity." 
 
 "Miss Lindsay" (said he, now seating himself by her), 
 "I could never understand why you should descend from 
 your lofty pedestal, where so many adorers offer daily that 
 incense which is so acceptable to all pretty women, and 
 thus condescend to accept such a poor shattered man as I 
 am. In spirit, person, and fortune, I am broken. Yet 
 would you bestow yours, all unimpaired, on this wreck. 
 How is this? Why are our parents so anxious to have us 
 united ? Why would your proud 'father, who knows my 
 
130 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 dark history, give his queenlike daughter, with all her 
 charms, beside countless thousands of that dross which is 
 so worshiped in the world, to a man who is bankrupt in 
 all these, and whose heart even, has stopped payment for 
 such a length of time?" 
 
 " Oh ! I do not know ! I can not say anything about 
 it. I only know, that I love you in spite of every dis- 
 couragement, that my heart is no longer in my own 
 keeping, and that I am yours — soul, body, and fortune. 
 Then, if I can not be your wife I'll be your slave — your 
 anything — so that I may be allowed to remain near you, 
 to see you, to wait on you, and sometimes to embrace you." 
 
 The calm, cold man was conquered. He sat down on a 
 low seat at the feet of this reckless woman, took her hand, 
 pressed it with more fervency than he had ever done before ; 
 carried to his lips those beautiful taper fingers ; talked 
 to her in a low, soothing voice ; then rising, said, " Well, 
 Gertrude, you shall have your own way about it. Appoint 
 the day, and let it be an early one : but have no undue 
 parade. My mother's illness will be a sufficient reason to 
 your friends for not making a fete. Let it take place, and 
 make yourself, my mother, and your father happy. As 
 to myself I am a wretch, and do not deserve the tenth 
 part of this devotion." 
 
 He has said adieu ; has once more kissed a good night 
 on those rosy tips, and departs : but turns to gaze again 
 at his voluptuous-looking bride. Ah ! why did he turn 
 back ? It never was well to do so ; " better to have been 
 changed to a pillar of salt " at once, than to meet that 
 array of charms so seductive. Poor man ! thy future is 
 full of dark spots ! But he did look back, and human 
 nature is human nature. The lady was smiling placidly — 
 happiness had made her face radiant. Now her counte- 
 nance is glowing and beautiful, beaming with love for him. 
 He knows this, he feels it. He returns, falls on one knee 
 before her, embraces her wildly, kisses her hands, her 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 131 
 
 forehead, her cheeks, her lips, many times, then rushes 
 from the room. 
 
 As he passes from the presence of the Circe, he finds 
 the door ajar, and in the distance, perceives Ann gliding 
 away. But what cares he now ? For the first time, for 
 many years, he is under the domination of passion. He 
 is wild, and the hot blood is coursing through his veins ; 
 he believes his present delirium is a presage of love, the 
 harbinger of happiness. Beware, young man ! There 
 are two kinds of the same thing : the pure and the dross, 
 the sentiment of love and the passion. Try them both 
 in the crucible of reason ; test them in the alembic of 
 time. 
 
 To-morrow morning when you shall awake from your 
 slumbers — maybe dreams of Elysium — compare your 
 present, forced, exuberant emotions with the fervent, 
 steadfast, self-immolating love which you have felt even 
 from childhood, for the ill-fated Marianna, your soul's 
 idol. 
 
 When Col. Murray left the Siren, he hurried on, as he 
 thought, homeward ; still under the influence of passion, 
 he walked on heedless of all things, and only roused, up 
 to find that he was traveling at that tremendous pace in 
 the opposite direction. He turns, and in retracing his 
 steps, finds himself before that humble abode of the hap- 
 less Myra. 
 
 "Ha! I meant not this (he closes his eyes). I must 
 not do anything unworthy of Charles Murray. Let her be 
 what she may now, when she becomes my wife, she shall 
 then be exalted. All other idols must be shivered, when 
 I place her by my hearthstone, where no traitor, false hus- 
 band, or craven lover ever dwelt. I will be true. Oh, yes, 
 I will at least be honest ; every man has it in his power to 
 be that : but I will also do my utmost to requite her 
 mighty love. My poor Gertrude ! " He enters his house. 
 
 When Miss Lindsay found herself alone, she threw off 
 
132 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 that gentle languor, which was so pleasing to her lover, 
 but which had been sustained with so much trouble and 
 fatigue to herself. She jumps up from her recumbent 
 attitude, throws her beautiful arms aloft, and cries, in an 
 ecstacy of triumphant delight, 
 
 " Oh ! I am so happy — I have had him at my feet — 
 joy ! joy ! joy ! I have played my part, and 'heaven is 
 won!"' 
 
 Ann, coming into the room, unintentionally upsets a 
 chair. 
 
 " Ha ! are you there, Ann ? How long have you been 
 in the room? " 
 
 "I jest come, Miss Guttrude — jest this minit." 
 
 " Ann, you are a liar by nature ; but tell me a lie now, 
 at the peril of your black hide, and I'll have it peeled 
 off. How long have you been a witness to what was 
 passing in this room?" Then that gentle, melting, lov- 
 ing lady jerks up a chair with Amazonian strength, and 
 advances toward the girl with the intent to strike her 
 down. The negro dodges and runs out of the room. 
 
 " Now I've done for myself again. Fool ! fool ! fool ! 
 that I am evermore. If she should leave me, and tell 
 this thing where Murray should hear it ! And this she'll 
 be certain to do, for she is the devil incarnate. I must 
 propitiate her — my own slave. I who, this night, have 
 had a sovereign at my feet, must now condescend to coax 
 my own negro ! Oh, what a world ! What a world 
 this is ! " 
 
 She goes to the door and calls the maid, who replies — 
 "Yes, m-a'a-m, I'm coming." No sound was ever so wel- 
 come — the music of the spheres could not have been 
 hailed or listened to with more delight. 
 
 " Ann, come here to your Miss Girty. Why did you 
 go out, girl ?" 
 
 " Because, Miss Guttrude, I thought you was gwine to 
 kill me wid dat cheer." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 133 
 
 " Ann, you are a fool ! Did I ever kill you with a 
 chair?" 
 
 The girl takes up her apron, and begins to go through 
 the motion of crimping the hem between her finger and 
 thumb, and looking askance at the lady, answers with a 
 grin, " Y-e-s, m-a'a-m." 
 
 " Well ! I didn't mean to do it this time, any how. Now 
 tell me what you heard and saw, while you were listening 
 there." 
 
 " I aint not been listening, Miss Gutty. Now you may 
 ask Eobert ef I wasn't a gallivanting wid him." 
 
 " "With Eobert? What business have you with Eobert, 
 girl?" 
 
 " Oh, me ! " cries Ann ; now following up the process of 
 crimping the other side of her apron, and looking out at 
 the corners of her eyes, " We's, we's sweethearts, mam." 
 
 u Oh, is that it? " A sudden thought strikes this intri- 
 guante. " Do you love him, Ann ; and does he love you ? " 
 
 " Yes, mam, we does dat ? " 
 
 " Do you know that you both belong to me, child ? " 
 " Yes, mam, I knows I does, but I thought Eobert b'long 
 to master." 
 
 u No, he and you are both my slaves, and if you will be 
 a faithful, good girl, and quit lying, I'll let you get mar- 
 ried, and I'll give you a nice wedding the same night that 
 we are married." 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Gutty," said the negro girl, making 
 a low curtesy : but is you gwine to git married, sure- 
 'nough, mam ? Oh, I'm so glad. And will you let Eobert 
 and me stand up before de same Hymenial halter ? " 
 
 " If you behave yourself, and please me. Now tell me 
 what you heard and saw from that door." 
 
 " Lawsy me I you got back to dat agin, mam. Now, 
 'fore God ! Miss Gutty, you's hard on dis poor nigger. I 
 tell you, mam, I had jest got in de room, and I hear you 
 say, 4 Oh ! I done play de part ; joy ! joy ! and heaven is 
 
134 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 won.' So I thought, being as how you was sick to-night, 
 prehaps you was gwine to die. Then I so 'stonished, and 
 so glad — no, I mean so sorry — dat I jest 'advertently set 
 up dat cheer down on de floor. And now dis is de truph, 
 de whole truph, and nothin' but de truph ; so help me 
 everybody. Amen." 
 
 " What made you think about dying, just then, Ann ? " 
 
 " Oh nothing, mam ; only de Mefodist ministerial tells 
 us dat it's only through de shadow and valley of death dat 
 we can arrive at the gates ; so I s'pose you was gwine dat 
 way of course. But maybe Miss Gutty you got some new 
 way to enter dat kingdom-come ? Is you, mam ? " 
 
 The lady laughed, and retired to her room, closing the 
 door after her. Ann busied herself for a short time in 
 adjusting the room, muttering all the time to herself, 
 with an occasional little giggle, " Ha, ha, he, he, he ! 
 May be she think 'she gwine git to heaven when she marry 
 wid dat proud colonel ! Aye ! but wont she miss de right 
 road ? Phew ! I wouldn't not be in h-e-r p-l-a-c-e . I 
 wouldn't — that's all. Phew! but wont he make her 
 walk de chalk line? Phew ! he, he, he ! " 
 
 When she has restored all things to their original order, 
 she goes in to disrobe her imperial mistress. Ann was 
 proud of her lady, although she had not much love for 
 her. Those very qualities which were so distasteful to 
 Murray, and all other good persons, only enhanced her 
 value in the eyes of the slave. She found Miss Lindsay 
 sitting there, waiting to be undressed — which she had 
 never done for herself in the whole course of her life. 
 We leave them together. Oh what a brace ! It is Satan 
 pitted against Satan. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 135 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 THE JEW PEDDLER. 
 
 " The miser lives alone, abhorred by all, 
 Like a disease ; yet can not so be 'scaped, 
 But canker-like eats through the poor men's hearts 
 That live about him." 
 
 " Of age's avarice I could never see 
 What color, ground, or reason there should be." 
 
 There is a large, tall, quaint-looking brick house stand- 
 ing in a distant part of the city from the places where we 
 have been. This tenement shelters, and conceals in its 
 unnumbered apartments, nooks, and crannies, a sufficient 
 number of human beings to form a colony. A small, 
 wretched, dirty, doleful-looking room, immediately under 
 the roof is tenanted by the owner of the whole house — 
 nay, whole square. Its walls are rude and unplastered ; 
 the few panes of glass in the one little window which are 
 not broken, are almost entirely darkened by rime and cob- 
 webs, and the holes are stopped with rags, brown paper 
 and old hats. The winter winds whistle through the 
 crevices of door, window, ceiling and floor. The furni- 
 ture consists of two chairs without backs, a little table, 
 and a very ricketty, dilapidated cot, or couch. A heap of 
 rubbish is piled up in one corner : old rusty, broken 
 fenders, parts of bedsteads, chairs, candlesticks, pitchers, 
 plates, a mass of filthy -looking coverlets, pieces of carpets, 
 also some old greasy wearing apparel. It is impossible 
 to conceive of the gloom and squalor of this place, and 
 the imagination could scarce paint such a scene. 
 
136 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 A few coals are blazing in a very small grate, on one 
 side of which is a large hair-trunk, having as fastenings 
 three bands of iron, and a huge padlock. This trunk is 
 almost concealed by an old cloak. On it is seated the 
 presiding genius of the place — a little, old, shrunken, 
 shriveled, mummy-looking man. His eyes are small, and 
 peer out from under his gray, shaggy brows so fiercely, 
 that on meeting them you experience the same involun- 
 tary shudder which passes through the frame when 
 encountering the eye of a snake, or any other venomous 
 beast. Ever and anon he turns those eyes to the door, 
 and then again to the fire, and spreads out his lean, lank, 
 claw-like fingers over the little blaze : then again turns 
 to the door, and sighs, and mutters to himself. 
 
 " Why don't she come? I'm starving! Oh! what is 
 de matter mit de gal ? Oh ! I wants to see her, mine own 
 comely shild ! " Again he sends a piercing glance to the 
 door. " Oh, oh, oh ! something has happened to mine 
 shild ! Oh ! Fadder Abraham ! them Christian dog has 
 taken mine comely shild captive." He plucks off his cap, 
 and, after the primitive manner of his people, sprinkles 
 ashes on his head and weeps. 
 
 The door opens : a girl enters, muffled up to the eyes in 
 a cloak and hood, with a green veil thrown over her head. 
 Coming up to that unsightly old man, she throws her 
 arms around his neck and kisses him. 
 
 u Oh ! now thank the God of Isaac, and Jacob, and all 
 the oder fadders ! But where is mine monish ? "Where 
 
 " Father, it is very cold to-day. It is almost " 
 
 " Where is mine monish, I say ? — Tell me dat. 
 Where " 
 
 u Father, I did my best, but I could not succeed this 
 time." 
 
 " Why, den, shild, couldst thou not collect mine dues?" 
 " They are all sick ; sick almost unto death, father." 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 137 
 
 u Didst thou ask dem, for what is mine own? Didst — " 
 u Come, father, kiss thy poor little Leah. She has done 
 all she could with honor." He leans forward, and that 
 young, fresh, . sweet child of nature entwines her arms 
 around the neck of that old, repulsive piece of parch- 
 ment, and returns the kiss with affection. He is the first 
 to disengage himself, saying, " Now, shild, you shall tell 
 thy fadder all about it. When shall I get mine monish ? " 
 
 " Father, I have brought thee something nice for thy 
 dinner." She opens a napkin and shows him a piece of 
 meat and a few sausages. He starts back with apparent 
 dismay. 
 
 u Out upon thee for a bad shild ! to fetch thy poor old 
 fadder swine to eat ! Fadder Abraham ! dem Nazarene 
 has turned the shild's head. By all the patriarchs ! I'll, 
 I'M " 
 
 u Oh ! hush, father ; threaten me not. It is worse than 
 idle to do so. But, poor father, thou art greatly mista- 
 ken ; it is beef, good beef, made up by my order for thee." 
 Poor old man ! thou wouldst sooner put to death a Christ- 
 ian than eat a piece of their pork." 
 
 f< Then, shild, come fry me a little bit of it. Thy father 
 is almost famished. Stop, stop ! where didst thou get the 
 monish to buy dem nice meat, Leah ? Now may Abra- 
 ham, Isaac, Jacob, and all de oders assist me ! Leah, if 
 thou hast let dem Christian dogs look upon thy face, and 
 hast pleased dem, so dat they give thee dat filthy lucre, 
 and hast tempted dem to find the way to thy fadder's 
 hiding place, I'll, I'll lock thee up in dis trunk," beating 
 the ends of it with his bony fingers. 
 
 The girl did not reply, but proceeded to remove the 
 cloak and hood. When she had done so, she turned to 
 her father, who grinned his admiration. 
 
 u Yes, I see ; just like thy mother ; comely, as was Ea- 
 ch el of old." The old man spoke most truly. The girl 
 was as beautiful as the poet's dream. 
 12 
 
138 
 
 THE NX G H T W ATCH. 
 
 Now that divine creature hunts about among the rub- 
 bish until she finds a skillet in which she pours a little 
 oil, then placing the fragments of meat and a couple of 
 links of sausage in it, sets it on the fire, where it begins 
 to fry. Bringing a large onion, she proceeds to slice it 
 very nicely, and putting the pieces also into the skillet, sits 
 and watches the process of browning, turning every piece 
 carefully. When all is nicely cooked, she dishes it up in 
 a tin plate, places it on the little table, and moves it up 
 to her father's side, having also set down a loaf of bread, 
 some salt in a broken teacup, and an old, rusty, tin pepper- 
 box. This finished, she goes again to the mass of rub- 
 bish, and pulls out a stone jug, from which she fills a tin 
 cup with some sort of liquor — hands it to the old man, 
 then replaces the bottle, covering it up as before. 
 
 The old creature eats voraciously, while his beautiful 
 daughter stands by, napkin in hand, and ministers to him. 
 
 A little bell tinkles. He starts as if he had been caught 
 in the commission of crime. 
 
 " Here, shild, put away dese tings ; thy fadder is very 
 poor, thou knowest. He can not afford to feed on flesh 
 and drink Hock. Don't mine shild understand her own 
 fadder? " In a moment, as if by magic, every dainty dis- 
 appeared, leaving only the loaf of bread and pitcher of 
 water. 
 
 " Come in," says a voice so feeble and quavering that 
 you would have supposed it issued from the lips of one 
 just " going off." " Come in," and as Tivvy entered, 
 Leah disappeared most mysteriously. She was in the act 
 of hanging up an old coat, when, in the twinkling of an 
 eye, she seemed to amalgamate with the cloth ; for when 
 the negro came to the fire, she found the old man alone, 
 sitting as at first, on the trunk. 
 
 " How do you do, old Fire and Faggot ? " says Tivvy. 
 
 " Good morning, lady. How is thyself? " whined out 
 a little, plaintive voice. 
 
THE NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 139 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know ; I suppose bad enough, Faggot. 
 But when I place my sitiwation along side o' this, I reckon 
 it's very good, and easy, and comfortable like." 
 
 u Yes, lady ; nobody is so bad off as old Mordecai Fag- 
 got, the Jew peddler. I is very poor ; very poor is poor 
 old Faggot." 
 
 " Well, I've come for you, Mordecai, rich or poor, I've 
 come for you, so make ready." 
 
 " Ah ! mine Got ! who wants poor old Faggot ? I tell 
 thee, ma'am, I is not able to go. Oh ! oh ! I is not able." 
 
 "You'll have to go ; you dare not disobey." 
 
 " Who wants me, den ? " 
 
 " Faggot, your mistress and mine, wants you." 
 
 " Who ? who is dat ? Who does want me ? " 
 
 " Why she wants you. Do you know now? Anyhow 
 you've got to go, that's flat, even if you can't walk." 
 
 u Fadder Abraham! Well, I must try. I know it is 
 death by de law to desobey her." He rises with great 
 difficulty, and totters to an old cloak on the wall, and tries 
 to disengage it from the peg, but fails. " Fadder Jacob, I 
 is so mighty weak I can't do nothin' at all." Tivvy gives 
 him the cloak, turning up her nose at the noisome con- 
 dition of it. 
 
 "Now, thou must go on, my lady, and tell her I is 
 coming." 
 
 " Oh ! but she told me not to leave you, Faggot." 
 
 " Bun on, run on ; goot gal, I is comin'." 
 
 "Now, old Mordecai Faggot — 'the Jew peddler,' you 
 call yourself, don't you ? do you want your soul left in 
 the inside o' that old dried up hull of a body o' yourn ? " 
 
 " To be sure I does." 
 
 " Then don't you disappoint her. And if you love any- 
 thing in this world (beside that old hair-trunk, what sets 
 there full o' money), and wants it saved, then don't you 
 come into that front door." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! " said he, dropping down again on the 
 
140 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 trunk, and trying covertly to conceal it with his cloak, 
 " I is got no monish ; nobody is so poor as Mordecai Fag- 
 got, the Jew. I is Traid somethin' w r ill happen to me. 
 Oh! oh! " 
 
 " You are afraid something will happen to the gold in 
 that trunk ; that's about it. That iron-hound trunk there," 
 said Tivvy, peeping round mischievously. " Great pad- 
 lock, too." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh ! I is betrayed ! I is betrayed ! " 
 
 "Old Faggot, you are a fool! JSTow, just as soon as it 
 gits little bit darker, you come right along. I'm not 
 going to walk the streets with you — but you had better 
 make haste." 
 
 Tivvy left, closing the door. In an instant it was 
 double locked. And now, that feeble, miserable, decrepid 
 old wretch disappears, and in his stead there stands a 
 smart, active, bustling little man, about half the age of 
 the poor old Faggot, who sat there a moment ago. The 
 first thing he did was to tug at the trunk. Finding it 
 secure, he brought a bundle of rags and covered it over. 
 He walks briskly about the room, arranging many things 
 until it is quite dark. Then he again puts on his old 
 cloak and cap, and the same aged, white-haired man tot- 
 ters from the house. Having made fast the door like the 
 trunk with a strong padlock, he passes feebly and cring- 
 ingly, on his way to that lordly mansion. 
 
 On his route he receives ma ay a hiss and malediction. 
 If he, by accident, jostles even a negro, the words he is 
 forced to hear are, " Cussed Jew, don't tetch me ! Nigger 
 as I is. I wouldn't be you." And as he is rudely thrust 
 off, he comes in contact with some blustering, swaggering 
 member of the mushroom aristocracy, who as fiercely 
 throws him back, exclaiming, with assumed wrath, 
 " Damned usurer! stand off!" Then again, that snaky 
 sound issues from groups of boys. 
 
 This was excoriation to the feelings of that abject look- 
 
THE NT G H T W A T C II . 
 
 141 
 
 ing man. Yet he plods on humbly, without once raising 
 his head. Those little fiery eyes gleam from under his 
 penthouse brows, with a lurid and ominous fire ; but he 
 makes no resistance, and seems not to heed. Yet all 
 these wrongs are written on his heart with a red-hot steel 
 pen, which can only be washed out by the blood and tears 
 of his enemies. His soul burns to wreak his vengeance 
 on all Christians — the foes of his race. 
 
 " Poor old Jew, I am sorry for thee ! Thou wert not 
 so bad at first; but now thy evil passions are inflamed, 
 and thou art ready to commit crimes, and waiting only 
 for a day of power to sweep them from the face of the 
 earth. That creeping, cringing, crawling thing would 
 have, with fire and sword, slain every follower of Christ. 
 All his secret stores — his hoarded gold — were set apart, 
 and consecrated in his mind to this great and righteous 
 work of retributive justice. Therefore to rob, to distress, 
 to torture (but not to kill) secretly all who came in his 
 way was, in his eyes, a virtue, and became the fixed pur- 
 pose of his life. It was done remorselessly, for conscience 
 sake ; religiously believing it to be a sacred duty incum- 
 bent on him to avenge his people. Superadded to this, 
 was avarice, in its most repulsive form — its most ghastly 
 shape. And this was the counselor and coadjutor of the 
 aristocratic Mrs. Murray. 
 
 When Faggot arrived at the alley which communicated 
 with the offices of the establishment, he exclaims in a 
 low and angry growl, " Mine Got ! it is as dark as de devil 
 here." 
 
 " Hist ! hist ! " said Tivvy, " follow me." 
 
 She then conducted him up a back stairway, then 
 through a narrow, dark corridor to her door. She opens 
 it softly, pushes him in, shuts it, and goes off to gossip 
 and make love to James, Col. Murray's valet. 
 
 The old lady is quite recovered, and is again arrayed in 
 all her youthful charms. The Jew, thus suddenly forced 
 
142 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 into the presence of this woman, who had for forty years 
 exercised such unbounded influence over him, trembled 
 from head to foot. He cowered beneath those keen, cold 
 eyes. No salutation is passed between them. Such is not 
 the custom with the lady toward her tool. He stands 
 there in her presence with those white locks uncovered. 
 
 " Well, Jew, you have come ? 'Tis well," said the lady, 
 looking disdainfully at him. 
 
 " Yes, mine lady, I is here." Another painful pause. 
 He adds, "Mine lady sent for her servant. What does 
 she want mit him '? " 
 
 " I sent for you, Faggot, because I have work fit for 
 your hands only. Now, tell me, Mordecai, what usury 
 you will extort for doing a service which will afford you 
 as much pleasure as me profit ? " 
 
 u Oh 1 I does not know, mine lady ; dat will depend on 
 the nature of the servish. If thou wilt tell thy servant, 
 then he can judge." 
 
 " In the first place, Mordecai, my son has fallen into 
 the strangest mood. He neither talks, laughs, eats, nor 
 sleeps." 
 
 " Oh ! mine God ! den what does he do ? Jest nothing 
 at all. Well, now dat is bad ; he can't live long at dem 
 rate." 
 
 " Wretch ! How dare you interrupt me ? Keep your 
 wizen jaws closed ; else, by heaven, I'll have them slit 
 from ear to ear." 
 
 " I begs thy pardon," says the poor old creature, drop- 
 ping his head on his breast. " Go on, my lady, if it please 
 thee." 
 
 " Well, every evening he leaves home about nine o'clock, 
 is gone two hours, then comes back to pace the room the 
 whole night; I wish to know where he goes, and how he 
 passes that interval." 
 
 " Oh ! dat is easy enough done ; I knows where he goes 
 now." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 143 
 
 Then she spoke some words in a low whisper. The 
 Jew starts, and raises his little red hot eyes to her face. 
 All this time she has kept the feeble old man standing. 
 Now she says in a condescending tone : 
 
 " Mordecai, sit down ; I have a great deal to say to you 
 about our business." 
 
 He sits down, meekly folding his arms, and casting his 
 eyes to the floor. 
 
 " Faggot, didn't you swear to me solemnly that Mari- 
 anna Glencoe was dead ? And didn't I make you a title to 
 the very house which shelters you now, for the commis- 
 sion of that one deed, which was only the keenest enjoy- 
 ment to such a blood-sucker as you are? " 
 
 "Yes, mine lady, you did," said he, grinning, thereby 
 disclosing very white, sharp teeth. 
 
 " Is she dead, or not?" Once for all I ask you, and I 
 want the truth." 
 
 The Jew moved uneasily in his chair, and said nerv- 
 ously, " Mine Got! The goot lady raves." 
 
 " Speak out, base Israelite ; else shall you not live to 
 see your ill-gotten hoards again." 
 
 "Well, now, did not mine lady see for herself, and not 
 for anoder, dat she was dead ? Didn't she see de coffin 
 let down into de ground her own self, mit her own keen 
 eyes?" 
 
 " I thought so, miscreant; but something has occurred, 
 some very strange things have turned up to awaken sus- 
 picion, and — . — " 
 
 * Oh ! mine Got ! Den I'll hide ; I'll run away. Oh ! 
 Oh! " 
 
 " No, sir, you shall not. You stand your ground and 
 do my bidding ; do you hear me, sir?" 
 " Yes, mine lady, I does." 
 
 " Now, tell me, Faggot, who that beautiful stranger is, 
 occupying that old hovel way down Market street? " 
 Then he required her to describe the place very mi- 
 
144 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 nutely, all the time looking innocent and ignorant. But 
 if the lady had been using those handsome eye-glasses, 
 she would have seen that his ghastly face suddenly became 
 livid. 
 
 " Jew, I suspect you acted the traitor in that matter 
 toward me, but it can't be helped now ; beware how you 
 repeat it. Aye, beware ! I am induced to think that 
 that mysterious person is no other than the dead Mari- 
 anna, and it is there my son goes every night. Now, 1 
 want you to hang on his steps, day and night. Dog him 
 to his hiding place. Contrive some way to introduce 
 yourself into the house of that woman ; pry into her pri- 
 vate life ; establish a spy there, and speedily report to me. 
 If you find it as I suppose, then she must be removed. 
 Do you hear, sir ? " 
 
 " Say on, lady." 
 
 " Now listen to me, and heed me well ! Some dark night 
 a fire breaks out in the center of those old wooden houses. 
 Many persons perish, but if she, if Marianna Glencoe is 
 saved by some accursed intermeddling arm, then she 
 must be spirited away. Such things do happen, but they 
 are familiar only to spirits like you and your twin brother, 
 the devil." 
 
 The old man sits looking straight on before him, as if 
 he were gazing far into futurity. 
 
 " Do you understand, Jew ? Do you hear me, Israeli- 
 tish dog? What are you staring at ? have you turned to 
 stone?" 
 
 " I see, mine lady, damage and death to mine own self. 
 The goot God of Jacob said, ' Thou shalt do no murder.' 
 I can't." 
 
 " Fool ! it is too late to talk thus. How many festering 
 sores and foul stains are already hid away in your craven 
 heart?" 
 
 She takes from a drawer a Morocco casket, touches a 
 spring, and displays to the dazzled eyes of the Jew pawn- 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 145 
 
 broker several valuable diamonds. She watches with a 
 curious eye the effect. 
 
 H Now, Faggot, if you will again get that girl out of 
 the way, remove her secretly, put her away securely this 
 time, all these shall be yours." 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! oh ! A tousand monish worth. I'll do it; 
 I'll do it." 
 
 " But when?" 
 
 u Jest so soon as I can get de wires to work," said the 
 Jew, now rubbing his hands as if they itched to get hold 
 of the gems. 
 
 " Go now, and see after Murray, but beware of detec- 
 tion. Faggot, were he to catch you in this dastardly 
 business, he would make no more of wringing off your 
 head than my cook would that of the chicken's for 
 breakfast." 
 
 " I knows it ; but now, mine honored lady, what surety 
 wilt thou give to old Faggot that thou wilt keep thy word 
 to him?" 
 
 The lady straightened herself up, and looked contempt- 
 uously down on the poor cringing creature beneath her. 
 " My word, sir ; my pledged word. When did I break it?" 
 
 He shakes his head doubtingly. 
 
 " Fool ! wretch ! dog ! what is the matter ? What do 
 you want ? What sort of security ? Would you have a 
 witness to this compact? " 
 
 " Jest thy name, lady, only a few line— write thy name 
 on little scrap o' paper." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Mordecai." 
 
 " Put down, in black and white, dat thou promise to 
 deliver to me thy diamonds when certain servishes is done 
 (naming them), and den thy name." 
 
 " It is very strange ! You never demanded any such 
 note of me before?" said she, uneasily. 
 
 "No, lady; but all tings is so uncertain now; let it 
 
 13 
 
14:6 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 be so." He takes from his pocket a little old ink-horn and 
 pen. " Here write, lady." 
 
 She seems by some strange impulse, moved to obey the 
 dictation of him, who for such a series of years has been 
 to her the servilest of slaves. She writes — 
 
 " I promise to pay over to Mordecai Faggot my morocco 
 case of diamonds, when he brings me the opal ring worn 
 by Marianna G-lencoe. Geraldine Murray." 
 
 She read it aloud. Faggot frowned, and knit his 
 shaggy brows until they met together over his nose, 
 bringing in fearful juxtaposition those little serpent-like 
 eyes. 
 
 "Will that do?" said the lady, looking at him with 
 surprise. 
 
 "Yes! goot night;" and he went creeping off. Tivvy 
 conducted him out through the same secret way. When 
 they reached the blind alley, she said — 
 
 " Well, old Fire and Faggot, who got the best of it this 
 time, Satan or the Devil?" 
 
 " Oh gal, don't mention it. She always does work out 
 her own purposes. But I is got her name, and if she 
 betrays old Faggot, and brings him to de halter, he'll 
 have good company. Dat little scrap o' paper will fix 
 her bisness too. Dat's all." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 147 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 THE NEOPHYTE ACTOR. 
 
 " Loed ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ; 
 My life, my joy, my soul, my all the world; 
 My widow's comfort and my sorrow's care ! " 
 
 " Thanks to the gods, my boy has done his duty." 
 
 When Clarence awoke from that deep sleep, the day 
 was well-nigh spent. It was the mystic hour of twilight, 
 when poor busy, toiling, scheming human nature may 
 snatch a few moments of repose. The child's first sensa- 
 tion was that of intense hunger. (Bemember, that poor 
 little boy had tasted nothing but a crust throughout the 
 day.) His first thought was of his mother, then his 
 grandmother; after that his little mind reverted to the 
 humane manager. Seeing it was almost dark, he began 
 to cry. 
 
 " Oh ! I am ruined ! I'm disgraced ! I've told him a lie. 
 I must go to him this moment." 
 
 He then approached his mother's bedside, and finding 
 her so much improved, looking so well, and beautiful as 
 he thought, that in his joy he forgot his griefs. The 
 dear good Minny was standing by, holding a waiter, which 
 contained a few delicacies intended to tempt a failing 
 appetite. The odor of these dishes seem to whet the keen 
 edge of the boy's hunger, and he is about to ask Minny for 
 a portion of the nice things when the old lady entered (like 
 a good fairy the night before Christmas) bearing a great 
 tea-board loaded down with the comforts of a substantial 
 meal. It was soon spread out. Then the grandmother, 
 
148 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Minny, and Clary surrounded it. After the thanksgiving, 
 that little circle make themselves happy, nay joyous. 
 
 " Now, come my bonny bairn, and tell your ain lassie, 
 who was sae kind-hearted as to gie ye the siller?" 
 
 " Oh ! dear Minny, that brings to mind what I had 
 again forgotten. I owe it all to the good man at the 
 old theater. I must run off this minute. Come, Minny 
 lassie, and help me to don my ' martial cloak.' " 
 
 " The puir chiel is demented ! Ye must nae go there, 
 deary." 
 
 "You shall not go!" said the grandmother; and her 
 honest brows were corrugated with a frown of disappro- 
 bation. 
 
 " My sweet bairn, ye canna find your way in the dark." 
 
 "I must try, dear Minny; don't say a word. I have 
 promised, upon the honor of a gentleman's son, to go 
 back. My word is out ; and would you have me prove 
 myself not what I said I was ? " 
 
 "You shall not stir from this house! You are now 
 poor baby ! broken down by toil and hardships, and your 
 young heart has already known more sorrow than falls to 
 the lot of most middle-aged men," rejoined the old lady, 
 wiping her eyes. 
 
 u Yes, I know all that, grandma ; but as yet there is no 
 stain on it ; and, thank God, I have never told a lie in my 
 life. Would you compel me now to tell one, mam ? " 
 and that brave little man shuddered at the bare idea of 
 doing a mean action. 
 
 He went up to his mother, and whispered to her ear- 
 nestly for a short time. After which Myra called Minny 
 to her. " The child must go, Minny; if you, or I either, 
 were in his place, we would desire to do like him. "Wrap 
 him up, dear girl, and start him off as speedily as possible." 
 
 " What, alone ! Nae, nae — I canna do that." 
 
 " No, Minny, not alone. God will be with him. He 
 has never forsaken that child yet ; but I think, has 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 149 
 
 watched over him for her sake (pointing to her grand- 
 mother), and has fed him from time to time, and brought 
 him back in safety. My boy has never yet been forced to 
 beg, thank God." 
 
 "Aweel, aweel. It is only the truth ye ha' spoken — 'I 
 have never seen the righteous forsaken, or their seed 
 begging bread,'" says Minny, with pious fervor. 
 
 While speaking she had busied herself in wrapping up 
 the child; then putting on her own cloak and bonnet, 
 says to him, " Go kiss your mother and grandam, darling, 
 and let us be off." On turning she comes up against Doc- 
 tor Brown, who had been an unnoticed spectator of the 
 scene. 
 
 " Good-bye, Doctor," says the child, and pulling Minny 
 off they leave the house. 
 
 He finds the old lady in tears, but this time Myra seems 
 sustained by some invisible power. Presently they make 
 him sit down and partake of their banquet. Mrs. Wise, 
 the elder, pours out for him a cup of the best tea, .places 
 before him the most savory chop, with the lightest, short- 
 est, and hottest of biscuit. The good little doctor thought 
 he had never eaten anything so delicious ; he sipped his 
 tea, and ate his supper with a gusto unknown to the hang- 
 ers-on of hotels and restaurants. But he is troubled by 
 the silent sorrow of the old lady, who from time to time 
 wipes her eyes. 
 
 11 Oh, madam ! you should not grieve thus ; you should 
 not worry about this thing. It is all for the best, as sure 
 as you are born. That child has revealed this day the 
 germs of great genius, as well as an exalted sense of 
 honor — in short, powers far beyond his years. I stood 
 by, an unperceived spectator, and listened with the pro- 
 foundest admiration to the boy's remarks and arguments." 
 
 "Well! maybe so. But I don't like prodigies; they 
 never make quiet, useful citizens. Besides, it is throwing 
 the child, so tender, and unformed as he is, into the very 
 
150 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 jaws of Satan, to send him to that terminus of vice, 
 shame, and crime." 
 
 " Tut, tut," says the doctor, and he looks over at the 
 invalid. A faint smile is flitting over that sweet face. 
 Then he rejoins : 
 
 "Glory, glory, madam, and fame! Think of that; in 
 one week that boy's name will be heralded half over the 
 New World." 
 
 " God forbid ! I would not have his right mind per- 
 verted, and his pure soul blurred by what he must meet 
 with there. God forbid that my child should be elevated 
 through the instrumentality of those play-house hell- 
 hounds." 
 
 Myra looked troubled, but still tried to smile, while she 
 spoke in an ajjologetic voice : 
 
 " My grandmother is very primitive in her views, gene- 
 rally, and on this one subject is rabid. Her knowledge of 
 the world has not kept pace with this age of improvement. 
 Once a fearful misfortune befell a member of her family, 
 the origin of which she traced back to the theater. Hence 
 her apparent rancor." 
 
 The door opens, and Minny enters. Now she is intro- 
 duced in form to Doctor Brown. She sits down by him, 
 looking up child-like into his face. 
 
 w I thank ye, Doctor, for filling my vacant place here 
 by the ingleside." Her countenance is beaming with 
 satisfaction and benevolence. 
 
 Keader, we have told you that Minny was not pretty : 
 we retract that slander. Such a combination of elements 
 as we find here, must make lovely much plainer features 
 than her's. She has a rich, sort of creamy-looking skin, if 
 I may so express myself, which pales or flushes with her 
 emotions, grey eyes, and very dark brown hair. 
 
 She is of medium stature, and remarkably well formed, 
 lithe, and brisk, and active as an antelope. Yet we have 
 called her little Minny, because the impression made on 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 151 
 
 every beholder at first is, that she is small, and very 
 young. There is such a quaint simplicity about her, such 
 a bewitching naturalness, candor and truth, such inno- 
 cence, that we can but associate the winning graces of 
 childhood with our good little Minny Dun. 
 
 While she recounts her trip to the theater, Doctor 
 Brown looks on with a pleased admiration. Myra, who 
 is quick-sighted in all the devious ways of the heart, 
 marks it all down on the tablets of her memory to be 
 brought up sometime, perhaps with benefit to her friend. 
 
 " Well, Minny, did you thrust the poor young thing into 
 that den of wild-beasts, thieves, robbers and murderers?" 
 
 " Oh, niver fash, niver fash, grandam, nae harm will 
 come to the sweet bairn. Fix your trust above, then 
 none can mak' afraid," said Minny, kindly taking her 
 hand. 
 
 " You are back early, Miss Dun ; did you run for your 
 life, all the way? " said the doctor. 
 
 "Nae, nae. I had to gang but a little way before we 
 met that good creature Murdoch, who turned back with 
 us, and seeing that the child wished to hie along so fast, 
 he taks him up in his arms, and carries him a' the way. 
 It was a lang weary ' road to ruin ' this time, grandam," 
 said Minny, laughing merrily. 
 
 " That dear, good-hearted, honest fellow, took the bairn, 
 as I said, in his arms, and they kept up a running conver- 
 sation a' the way. Clarry placed his little arm around the 
 neck of that coarse bear-skin, and thus we reached the 
 theater. But many times the drap was in my een to see 
 with what tenderness that rough-coated man treated the 
 bairn ; " and little Minny wiped her eyes again. 
 
 " Go on, Minny," said Myra. 
 
 " Yes, but dear lady, there is na much mair to tell. 
 Murdoch went wi' us to a place they call the box-office, 
 and left the bairn in my care while he gaes to seek the 
 manager. When he comes back, I just kissed the sweet 
 
152 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 mou' o' the bonny bairn, and taks my leave ; but all the 
 time I kept looking back to see how the puir chiel would 
 stand sic an ordeal. At last I saw the handsome Mr. 
 Gooch come in. Clarry rises, pulls off his little cap, and 
 bows politely ; just as much sae as that grand Colonel 
 Murray could have done to save his life." 
 
 At that name Myra starts visibly, and becomes very 
 pale. 
 
 " Go on, Minny," said she, in a tremulous voice. 
 
 "Well, the man bows, too, and says, 'All hail young 
 prince ! ' and then shaking his dear little hand, adds, 
 4 Welcome ! most welcome ! Duke of York — that is to 
 be.' " 
 
 How Minny rises to depart. Dr. Brown offers his arm, 
 and they make their adieux. On going out, they discover 
 a huge mass of cloth and coarse furs leaning against the 
 post. It moves off; a moment after is heard in the dis- 
 tance the sonorous voice of the Night Watch, crying, 
 " Past nine o'clock ! all's well." 
 
 " That's the only lie the man utters," said Dr. Brown, 
 for the twelth time. 
 
 " Aweel, he thinks o' na harm until he sees it before 
 his een," replied Minny. 
 
 On reaching the little toy shop, she unlocks the door, 
 and invites the doctor to enter. An invincible curiosity 
 takes hold of him to see the good little creature's home — 
 her little fireside. He follows her in. After passing 
 through the shop they enter that delicious little sitting- 
 room ; and there sits the venerable figure, in that same 
 old stuffed and wadded arm-chair. She seems to be 
 dozing. Minny calls her very loudly, for she is quite deaf : 
 
 " Grandmither, let me introduce you to Dr. Brown, 
 Mrs. Wise's physician." 
 
 The old lady extends her hand and says, with due 
 courtesy, u I am happy to see ye, doctor. Ye are welcome 
 to our ingleside." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 153 
 
 This old woman possessed an innate politeness, which 
 seems to belong to all good-hearted, truly pious persons. 
 The genuine religion of Jesus Christ induces this, I think, 
 without any other training. 
 
 The doctor remembering the lateness of the hour, rises 
 to take his leave. Approaching Minny, he says: 
 
 u Miss Dun, I was this morning entrusted w 7 ith a com- 
 mission, which troubles me. I think, perhaps, you can 
 help m© out." (Dr. Brown had rightly divined the prom- 
 inent traits in the girl's character ; which were decision, 
 common sense, and practicality.) " That same c bear- 
 skin man ' gave me this," said he, pulling out a purse, 
 " which he wishes appropriated to the necessities of Mrs. 
 Wise and family, I have been looking out for an oppor- 
 tunity for the last hour to break the matter to the glo- 
 rious creature ; but I'll be blamed if I could find one, or 
 words either." 
 
 "Oh, niver try — niver try, sir. It would na do just 
 now. It would be hurled back to puir dear Murdoch, by 
 that high-spirited woman, Mrs. Wise." 
 
 At the words, " dear Murdoch," the doctor winced. 
 Somehow in this short time he had unintentionally suf- 
 fered himself to appropriate Minny. He constituted him- 
 self (in feeling) her friend and guardian. 
 
 " I'll manage it for ye. Poor dear Murdoch made a 
 bad beginning. He offended Myra at the outset, whose 
 feelings are as tender as a fresh wound, and as morbid as 
 an old sore, by too plain showing of admiration. She, 
 puir soul, has na yet learned to forget and forgive. I 
 would na have that honest Night Watch's feelings 
 wounded for sae gude a deed." 
 
 " Well, here Minny, take the purse." 
 
 The girl blushed crimson, thus to hear her name pro- 
 nounced with such familiarity by the man she had learned 
 to like and respect so much. 
 
 On seeing her embarrassment, he tried to apologize, 
 
154 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 but became himself confused — then resumed, in a more 
 formal way : " Here, Miss Dun, take the purse and do 
 with its contents as your own judgment may prompt, 
 then all will be well, at least right." He takes Minny's 
 hand, presses it kindly — almost tenderly. "I can't help 
 it. Good night, dear good little Minny, as everybody 
 calls you." 
 
 On passing by the hovel, the same dark mass moved 
 away. 
 
 " "Well, I'll be blamed if that 6 dear Night Watch ' (as 
 Minny says) does not confine his watch to the house of 
 1 his lady love.' God forgive me for thus desecrating the 
 name of the peerless Myra. I know of no one who is 
 good or grand enough for her but Charles Murray." 
 
 When he reached the theater, he stopped to listen to 
 that thundering applause. " Ha ! the devil has broke 
 loose here, too. Such sounds have not a weakened the 
 echoes of these old walls for many a day. I will just 
 look in and see what it is." 
 
 On taking his seat in a side box, he meets an old chum. 
 " Good evening, Gordon. What means all this uproar in 
 the house?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing only a little novelty." 
 
 " Well ?" responded the doctor. 
 
 " You know the public have been bored to death with 
 this dull stock company. The same kings and queens, 
 with the same purple and scarlet robes ; the same Coras 
 and Eollas ; the same Desdemonas and Othellos ; in short, 
 the same everything ; so that now they hail with such 
 acclamations the advent of anything that is not a part of 
 that same sameness.;^ 
 
 " Well!" quoth the doctor. 
 
 " This novelty makes its appearance on this evening in 
 the shape of a pretty little boy — a lovely child — a very 
 miracle of beauty and grace." 
 
 "Ah, yes! I know," rejoined Brown. "That little 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 155 
 
 Minny made me forget everything. Go on, Gordon, if 
 you please." 
 
 u The little fellow comes out to-night in the ' Dumb 
 Show,' which is most opportune for him, as the manager 
 only procured his services two hours before the curtain 
 rose, as I have just learned. But, for God's sake, look at 
 Murray. See how ghastly he looks. One would scarcely 
 think that he was so soon to become the lord and master 
 of that haughty beauty there (who is now engaged in 
 such soft dalliance with the man Gaines). I should think 
 the conviction of that fact, and that he is so soon to have 
 the control of all those thousands, would bring him to 
 life. Now, by our < patron saint ! ' he looks much more 
 like mounting the pale horse, than a triumphal car." 
 
 " Humph ! But, Gordon, how do you know that Murray 
 is to be married to Miss Lindsay ? " 
 
 " I may not tell you, doctor, how I heard it ; but I 
 know it to be true, sir. He has just perceived his ' affi- 
 anced ' surrounded by that swarm of insects. I should 
 not like to see my wife (that is to be) leaning so affec- 
 tionately on the arm of that fopling." 
 
 ¥ Hush ! Gordon. Gaines is a right good fellow, and 
 would, I think, make a better, more useful, maybe a more 
 suitable husband for the beauty than the cold, haughty 
 Murray." 
 
 M Look ! he seats himself behind her, bowing so slightly 
 to her warm salutations. Now, see how she looks at him, 
 her face expressing as in so many words, < Ah ! proud 
 man, I hold you fast in golden chains, with 1 half a mill- 
 ion ' links." ^ \\ 
 
 "Why, Gordon, I'll be blamed if I don't believe you 
 are jealous and envious too." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " loudly laughed the young man. " No, 
 Brown, I have only spoken the truth, which is another 
 novelty in the house." 
 
 " No such thing; the woman loves the man devotedly, 
 
15b 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 passionately, and he is grateful for it. He cares not for 
 her gold. She is naturally disposed to be a coquette, and 
 you have all, every one of you, helped to foster this dis- 
 position. Now, when you see your own handy-work ma- 
 tured, you stand back and find fault, and blame her for 
 being what you yourselves have made her." 
 
 The curtain rises; a train of villagers advance with 
 Clarence at their head. He is the presiding divinity, and 
 is presumed to be deaf and dumb, but omniscient withal. 
 He is magnificently attired, glittering with jewels ; his 
 beautiful golden locks hang in graceful curls over his neck 
 and shoulders, which are bare. A bright tinge of carna- 
 tion on his cheeks gives luster to those deep violet eyes, 
 so full of light and darkness. He walks as if he had trod 
 the boards for years — with the majesty of a real king. 
 
 When the train are all on the stage, he turns, takes off 
 his cap, faces them, standing still and very erect. They 
 kneel and render homage, and now the reverberating plau- 
 dits are stunning. 
 
 It was not in character for the mute prince to hear or 
 to speak; but nature prevailed over art. Just then the 
 child wheeled about — his countenance radiant as one just 
 dropped from heaven — smiled and bowed to the audience. 
 The overwhelming tide of applause continued to roll on. 
 Then the boy approached quite near to the foot-lights, 
 knelt down, raised his little cap in one hand, while with 
 the other he sends many kisses to the audience. The 
 house is electrified. Then follow a few moments of deep 
 silence, induced by admiration, and maybe something bet- 
 ter. They had forgotten that this was a departure from 
 all rule and precedent ; that the child had lost sight of the 
 character which he had to sustain. They only saw that 
 boy of such superhuman beauty. 
 
 The group of kneeling figures start up, surround their 
 prince, raise him above their heads, and bear him off in 
 triumph, but not before he has tossed up his cap into mid- 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 157 
 
 air, shouting, " Huzza ! huzza ! long live my friend, Mr. 
 Gooch." Now it seems that those old walls will eome 
 down. Peal after peal resounds long after the curtain 
 has dropped. 
 
 Immediately on leaving the stage, Clarence had run up 
 to the property room, for the purpose of undressing. He 
 commenced tugging at his gaudy trappings, but finding 
 that he could not disengage himself from their trammels, 
 he sat down and began to weep. 
 
 " How now, my prince of beauty, and of little devils ? 
 What ! crying, after such a hit? I tell you, my fine little 
 man, your fortune is made." 
 
 He looks up at the kind-hearted " tire woman." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear ma'am, I can't help it. Just help me to 
 put off these things, and to put on my clothes." 
 
 " Not yet, my darling ; you will have to go down again. 
 There will be showers of presents for you. The boxes 
 and pit will rain gold on your own golden head directly." 
 
 " Oh ! no, ma'am, I can't wait ; I have performed my 
 part and fulfilled my promise, now I must run home. I 
 would not make my mother so unhappy for this house 
 full of gold." 
 
 Then the woman proceeded to disrobe him. When she 
 had finished, and he had put on his clothes, he threw his 
 little arms around her neck and kissed her. " Thank you, 
 ma'am, and good night." 
 
 He was running down stairs, when Mr. Gooch ap- 
 proached. 
 
 " My son, they will not rest until they see you before 
 the foot-lights. The house is clamoring for 1 the child,' 
 'the beautiful boy,' 1 master whoever-he-is.' Oh ! Jenny, 
 why did you disrobe him ? But never mind, he is look- 
 ing very beautiful. Now, just touch these curls over, 
 which look so much like golden threads, with sunbeams 
 playing through them. So ! come along, before they burst 
 their throats." 
 
 % WGSMF 
 
158 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 The child was dressed in a little suit of green cloth, 
 with shirt-collar edged with fine lace — thanks again to the 
 thrift of dear little Minny. The manager leads him out 
 in front of the curtain, and announces Master Olarens. 
 And now again burst forth those shouts, mingled with the 
 clink of silver and gold, as it falls like hail from gallery, 
 pit, and boxes. 
 
 u Mercy ! What a harvest ! What a shower of metal ! " 
 
 Clarry, contrary to all stage etiquette, pulled away from 
 the manager, who essayed still to hold him fast by the 
 hand, and giving one glad, grateful look to the audience, 
 sets about gathering up the money. 
 
 Presently the child comes up to Mr. Gooch (who is 
 looking on in placid wonderment), and dropping grace- 
 fully on ore knee, in real play-house style, with mock 
 reverence offers the little cap, which is half full. Just 
 then the full orchestra strikes up, and the house is in an 
 uproar. Some throw their hats, gloves, and caps, and w r ith 
 more heedless temerity than discretion or good taste, 
 jump on the stage. 
 
 When Clarence comes out in citizen's dress, and raises 
 his sweet, plaintive, and weary-looking eyes to the boxes, 
 Murray starts to his feet ; he recognizes the little boy he 
 had once met in the church. Then quickly flashes 
 athwart his mind the recollection of certain events, times 
 and places. The resemblance to her and many things 
 which were forgotten are now reflected on the mirror of 
 his bewildered mind. He leaves the box abruptly, for- 
 getting that he had escorted Miss Lindsay there ; he goes 
 to the private door — has bribed the keeper to admit him, 
 finds his way to the green-room, and inquires in a hur- 
 ried, agitated voice for Master Clarens. 
 
 The prompter points to a figure just moving off, with a 
 child in his arms very much muffled up : " There," said 
 the man, " that good-hearted Night Watch brought him 
 here in his arms and so he carries him away." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 159 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE LOVER. — SOUL-PHASES. m 
 
 " There is a kind of mournful eloquence 
 In thy dumb grief, which shames all clam'rous sorrow." 
 
 " Why let the stricken deer go weep, the heart ungalled play ; 
 For some must watch, while some must sleep ; so runs the world away." 
 
 It was near midnight ; the old lady sat rocking herself 
 as usual. Myra had been assisted to rise, and was rolled 
 up in a blanket, reclining in a comfortable sick-chair. 
 By-the-by, both of these articles of luxury had been 
 loaned to the poor invalid by their little friend. She was 
 looking very patient and quiescent, while her grand- 
 mother was nervous and perturbed. They seemed to 
 have changed natures ; the elder lady had let go her trust 
 in this case, while the younger one appeared to have 
 taken hold of hope with a pertinacity equalled only by 
 her former despair. 
 
 " Grandma, I heard the name of one to-night whom I 
 thought far away, beyond the seas." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; " says the old lady, rocking herself even 
 more violently than ever. " That little Minny has few 
 faults, but like all other lassies when there is a lad in the 
 way, her tongue grows lax and frivolous. I think, Myra, 
 she was mightily taken up with Doctor Brown, consider- 
 ing they were strangers." 
 
 "I think not too much so, grandma. I remarked a 
 look of surprized admiration on the countenance of the 
 Doctor." 
 
 " "Well ! maybe so. I do wish he would fall dead in 
 
160 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 love with her, and they would marry ere long" — her little 
 fit of ill-humor now giving way to that universal philan- 
 thropy which generally pervaded her nature. 
 
 °* But dear mother, this is wholly irrelevant to the sub- 
 ject. Do you know whether Charles Murray is here, or 
 even in the United States? " 
 
 The old lady turns about restlessly ; then says : " I do 
 not know anything about your cousin Charles. Never 
 saw him as I know of, and I'm glad of it. Everything 
 that is sad and painful, is associated in my mind with his 
 name. Your own pitiful destiny, your mother's melan- 
 choly death, and the name of Charles Murray are 
 stereotyped on my heart — yet I never saw the man. 
 I understand that he w T as a noble, generous fellow, and 
 handsome withal." 
 
 " Oh yes, yes ! He w^as godlike in all things ; one to 
 whom the heart would naturally turn in time of love and 
 prosperity, and the soul cling in the hour of darkness and 
 adversity ; to love and trust at all times, and worship 
 evermore." Myra, while speaking, had clasped her hands 
 together, and raised her eyes to heaven — the finest per- 
 sonification of adoration. 
 
 " Nonsense ! Tut, tut. Now child you are going off 
 again. If you are about to mount your stilts, I want to 
 retire. Why do you think of the past? Look ahead, 
 look ahead, and think of the present, too." 
 
 " O God ! I have no present — no future. Compared 
 with that one season of past happiness, that Elysium of joy 
 and rapture, my present life is a blank ! It is worse ! a 
 thousand times worse ! Oh, would I were dead ! Oh 
 that I were a nonentity ! " 
 
 " Certainly," said the old lady of course you do; 
 having now no duties on earth to perform ; no interest 
 here below ; no G-od to please, no crown to win in heaven ; 
 no aged parent, whose passage to the grave should be 
 smoothed ; no child to " 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 161 
 
 She starts as if affrighted. " Oh, forgive me, dear mother, 
 I have, I fear, committed a great sin." 
 
 " Ask God! to forgive you then, poor child. Ask Christ 
 to plead for yon. I do indeed consider it a great sin, 
 thus to overlook, or shut your eyes to all these comforts," 
 said the grandmother, looking round. 
 
 " You will pray for me, will you not, dear mother? " 
 
 A rap. " Ah ! here you are, my bonny bairn, as Minny 
 calls you. Come in, friend Murdoch ; come to the fire, 
 and warm yourself," said the old lady. 
 
 m Thank you, but it is late, and maybe I had better not." 
 He had placed the child on the floor, who ran joyfully and 
 bounded into his mother's lap. 
 
 "Not so, never too late to render thanks to a good man 
 ibr such services. Come and warm yourself, good Mur- 
 doch, for this night is as cold and pitiless as the frozen, 
 flinty hearts of the rich and grand." She takes his hand 
 and draws him to the fire. 
 
 The child is whispering to his mother. They hear him 
 say, " He has been so kind to me, mamma." 
 
 She answers, " Certainly, my love," kissing him ten- 
 derly. "My own heart prompts such a course." 
 
 So when Murdoch stands there, she ri&es, wrapping the 
 blanket still more closely around her, offers him her lit- 
 tle, soft, white hand, and begins to utter some words of 
 thanks. The little hand is grasped by that bear-skin 
 paw, and pressed with such energy as would, if contin- 
 ued, have crushed those slender bones. 
 
 Finding she drew away quickly, he raised his eyes with 
 an humble, deprecatory look, and then dropped his head 
 on his breast. He had met only an expression of amaze- 
 ment in her gentle eyes ; but the poor, stricken man could 
 not endure the refulgence of those glorious orbs, so full 
 of all the best and brightest emotions which belong to 
 earth, and heaven too, for aught Murdoch knew or could 
 think, or reason either. The good Night Watch was past 
 14 
 
162 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 anything of the sort now. The touch of that little hand 
 had set in motion the electric fluid, which carried a tele- 
 graphic dispatch to every little, hidden, secret place in his 
 heart. The great soul of that rude man raised itself to 
 God, through the reverential devotion it felt for His image 
 there before him. 
 
 T know not how he would have managed to quell, at 
 least conceal, those feelings from the lady; for all pure 
 and honest as his purposes were, the fastidious and un- 
 tamed Myra would have thought it an abomination for 
 a man in his sphere to have poured out his heart's 
 blood even in her service, if prompted by love. All des- 
 olate and prostrate by sorrows, sickness, poverty, almost 
 starvation — she never dreamed of descending from her 
 high seat. Since the real world was shut out from 
 her, since she was separated from all that was alluring 
 and was no longer permitted to mingle with kindred 
 natures, she had created a world for herself, and in her 
 fervid imagination had peopled it with creatures only a 
 little less than the angels. Is it any wonder, then, that 
 she usually appeared abstracted, cold, and sometimes 
 haughty ? These generally sufficed to soothe her. But 
 when those same hard realities, those stern necessities 
 which are without law, came, and she is forced to contem- 
 plate life as it is, she then, as well as others, must need 
 succumb. Now r comes conscience, bringing self-reproach, 
 and memory's vast store-house is unlocked. She shud- 
 ders, shrinks, and dashes this mirror of the mind to the 
 earth. It is shivered, but she finds her frenzy has only 
 furnished fragments by which her woes are multiplied. 
 
 Dear reader, our sympathy for the lovely but ill-fated 
 Myra has caused us to ramble. We return to the Night 
 Watch. We were thinking that he could not extricate 
 himself from that bewildering dilemma, but just then his, 
 and everybody's good genius, little Minny Dun, came 
 skipping into the room. 
 
» . THE NIGHT WATCH. 163 
 
 " I bid ye good even, friends. How do ye do, Mur- 
 doch ? " giving her hand. 
 
 " Oh ! my sweet birdie ! come to yer ain lassie." 
 
 Clarence had climbed to the knee of Murdoch and, intu- 
 itively seeing there was something wrong, he clasps his 
 arms around his neck, as was his custom toward all whom 
 he loved, and kissed him several times, through that mass 
 of heavy, black beard. 
 
 " Come here, darling, and tell Minny all about it." She 
 offers to take him. (This is done to please Myra, who is 
 really shocked at the child's familiarity.) 
 • She is arrested by a call: " Minny, Minny Dun, come 
 here.'* 
 
 Minny flies to the old lady, who is again bending under 
 the weight of the same tea-board. 
 
 " Here, child, help me. You see, children (she draws 
 the little table to the fire), in the halls of my father it 
 was taught us with our religion, if a stranger came to our 
 door, he must not go away as such. If any came cold and 
 hungry, they must be fed and warmed. I can not do as 
 I was trained, but the disposition is left, while the power 
 is almost gone. Yet somebody has said, ' where there's a 
 will there's a way,' and I believe that doctrine." 
 
 While talking, she had busied herself in pouring out 
 cups of fine, clear, hot coffee. Then there were crackers, 
 and cakes,, and sardines, with a leetle bottle of wine. 
 
 "Now come, friends, and surround the board of Mrs. 
 Glen " 
 
 An impatient and frightened look from Myra arrested 
 the half-spoken w T ord, and she added in a subdued tone, 
 " Of poor old Mrs. Wise. My daughter, will you come? 
 Murdoch will wheel your chair to the table?" 
 
 Myra frowned, and Minny, with her usual tact, added : 
 " Nae, nae! notsa; that auld lady maun bide in the cor- 
 ner and munch her cracker soaked in a little wine, while 
 we young folks enjoy a' these good things." 
 
164 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C H 
 
 So they sit there chatting, and laughing, and eating, 
 and drinking. Murdoch seems to have recovered himself. 
 He is not hilarious, like Minny and Clarry, but he seems 
 quiet, and for the time, happy. He has told them all 
 with which the reader has already been made acquainted, 
 exclaiming, " Oh ! it was a high trump, a mighty hit, a 
 marvelous success ! " 
 
 The child has fallen asleep in Minny's arms, and now 
 she says, as the old lady relieves her of her charge, " Mur- 
 doch, do you hear that cry? ' Past o-n-e o'c-l-o-c-k.' I 
 must e'en bundle and go." 
 
 She rose, and kissing both ladies, turns to the man, who 
 is trying to pull something from his pocket. " What is 
 that, Murdoch ? " 
 
 " 'Tis the child's wages ; the manager gave it to me to 
 fetch for him. He said it was not the custom of the house, 
 but the boy earned it honestly, and he wanted him to 
 have it. His own little cap was pretty nigh half full, but 
 he kept giving away piece by piece until it has dwindled 
 down to this." 
 
 " Oh, you dinna tell me, gude man, that all this siller 
 belongs to my little birdie? " 
 
 She takes the silk handkerchief, and going to the table, 
 pours out the contents of gold and silver coin, and counts 
 it. " Forty and five — and " 
 
 " That will do, Minny. Do, if you please, sir, keep the 
 balance. Do oblige me. It would make the dear child 
 so happy." 
 
 " I can't, ma'am ; indeed I can not do it," says Murdoch. 
 " Then you wound our feelings by refusing," said Myra, 
 with emotion. 
 
 Minny gives him a sign to accept; but while she is 
 again kissing adieu to Myra, Murdoch very quietly places 
 the coin on the mantle-piece. On leaving, as they opened 
 the door, somebody swept by them so briskly, that they 
 could not discern who it was. 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 165 
 
 " Murdoch, I do believe that was old Faggot," said 
 Minny. 
 
 " Yes, the same thought struck me. I'll bet my life 
 that he has been peering through the window. Let us go 
 back, and ascertain whether he could see through that 
 blue rag, there. If he has been watching you, while you 
 counted the gold, I must at once sound my rattle, and set 
 a guard over the house." 
 
 " I dinna think it will be well to do sae, Murdoch. It 
 would scare Mrs. Wise to death. Now, you gude man, as 
 ye are, jest take your stand by the post, as ye do every 
 night." And Minny sent forth a little merry but harm- 
 less giggle. 
 
 " Pshaw ! nonsense, Minny, what makes you such a 
 little fool?" 
 
 " Nature, I reckon, Murdoch. You ken I didna' mak' 
 my ain sel." 
 
 When they found themselves before the window, all 
 seemed secure, and there was no gleam of light issuing 
 from it. 
 
 " They have mended the slit in that old window-cover. 
 They used to sit there, with it gaping wide open ; so that 
 all who passed might see," said Murdoch. 
 
 "That was when the puir bodies were so bowed with 
 greeting and glamouring." 
 
 " They are happy now, are they, Minny? Oh, girl," 
 says he, griping her arm, " I would lay down this rough 
 carcass, and be trampled to death — have the soul crushed 
 out of me, if that woman could walk over it to comfort 
 and happiness." 
 
 " O Murdoch, what mak's you sic a fool? " 
 
 " The Devil, I reckon, Minny, and that woman's pretty 
 face." 
 
 "Listen to me, dear Murdoch, you must get o'er all 
 this ! Ye are the humble 1 Night Watch' o' these streets. 
 • Ye are hardly seen or known in the light o' day. There 
 
166 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH, 
 
 is a great gulf between you. You are the black, murky 
 night. She is the winsome, glorious day. Think not ©' 
 her, Murdoch, an ye love your ain soul ! You wad peril 
 your body, I know; but mind the soul, man ! that which 
 ye have in trust only, frae God : you may not offer up the 
 soul o' your body on any altar save one ! God will require 
 it at your hands ! Think nae mair about that haughty 
 woman, Murdoch." 
 
 » Why, Minny, she is poor and defenseless, uncared-for, 
 and unknown ; and if I am just what you say I am, why 
 should she scorn this heart, which, God knows, has never 
 yet nursed a mean or a dishonest thought or purpose ? 
 You are hard upon me, Minny. I am not so lowly as you 
 think me, perhaps. I am as high up in the w r orld now as 
 she is ; I am, may be, as acceptable in the sight of heaven 
 as she — and " 
 
 " Oh, niver mind all that. May be ye are mair sae. 
 You may be altogether better. Still think not o' her. I 
 advise ye for your ain gude." 
 
 " But Minny, will nothing move her? Will not this 
 devotion, which would shame the love of all others before? 
 If I lay down my life, will she not then think kindly 
 of me ? " 
 
 " Mae, nae ! not in the way ye wish, I ween.'* 
 " I can not live thus," said the man, dropping his arms 
 down heavily by his side. u Minny, dear Minny ! if you 
 should hear, some day, that I have thrown myself from 
 that old bridge into the flood beneath, will you tell her 
 that I died a martyr to that love which I dared not 
 confess." 
 
 " Oh, niver fash ! Gude Murdoch, shake it all off ; rouse 
 up, man. There's a good time coming to us a' 
 
 " Grandam says so, and she knows. She believes in 
 dreams, and sae do I. Last night w r e both dreamed the 
 same dream, and I canna' forget it." 
 
 v; What was the dream. Minny? " 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 167 
 
 " I have nae time to tell it to ye now. But 'tis the 
 sign o' good times; mair by token there's a good time 
 coming." 
 
 " But, Minny, the lady was not so haughty to me 
 to-night?" 
 
 M Oh, but it is a' nothing ; trust not to symptoms." She 
 turned quickly, and looking him keenly in the face, says : 
 " Murdoch, I'll jest ask ye one question, an ye'll let 
 me?" 
 
 " Say on," groaned the man. 
 
 " Wad ye tak' an empty casket and wear it in your ain 
 bosom, when its gem had gone to enrich that of another ? 
 Wad ye ? Tell me that, man ? Ye had nae thought o 1 
 that, had ye, friend?" He walks on moodily, without 
 speaking. Then he recovers himself and looks about. 
 
 u Minny, we are at least a mile from your house." 
 
 "Oh, I kenned it a' the time, Murdoch; but I thought it 
 wad do ye good ; help to cool the fever in your brain, and 
 may be put out that flame in your heart. I would save ye, 
 Murdoch, for I know ye are an honest and true-hearted 
 man. But Lucifer has set you on fire, puir man ! " 
 
 Ere they arrive at the door of the little toy-shop, Minny 
 has reasoned him into a more genial mood. There is, 
 therefore, no trace of his former fierceness in his tone, as 
 he bids her " Good night." 
 
 The next day Mr. G-ooch of the Theater, called at 
 
 the hovel, and being a generous as well as just man, offers 
 a liberal salary for the services of the little Clarry. The 
 grandmother grows fiercely angrj 7 , and seems disposed to 
 show the good man the door. But Myra listens with a 
 pleased and gratified attention to the hyperbolical praises 
 of her darling. She does not consent to his terms until 
 he pledges himself by a written contract, to give the 
 child two hours instruction in the useful branches every 
 day. " I would not part with my child. I would not 
 give him up to you thus, soul and body, knowing how 
 
168 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 plastic is childhood's tender mind, if I did not feel a sort 
 of premonition, that you would deal justly by us, and that 
 you are not only upright, but sympathetic and benevo- 
 lent. I have not the facilities to educate my son. Scarce 
 can I find covering for his tender limbs, or suitable food 
 for his delicate frame. Why and howl have been reduced 
 to this necessity — in what way and by whose instru- 
 mentality I have been dragged down to this miserable 
 condition (looking around her), it boots me not to tell. 
 Let it suffice to know, that none here or elsewhere have 
 been more tenderly nurtured, or more affectionately cared 
 for. None in the whole land can boast of higher and 
 purer lineage. But I am now what you see me, and 
 must bide God's own time to restore the right, and pun- 
 ish the wrong. I entrust you with the only jewel I have 
 left. Guard it as you prize your own life ; as you desire 
 the well-being of your loved ones ; as you value your 
 immortal soul ; above all, as you love Christ, and hope 
 for mercy through him in that last day — that solemn 
 scene in the closing act of the drama of life — I conjure 
 you to shield my heart's treasure from harm and from 
 vice." 
 
 The manager is deeply moved, goes to the window, and 
 wipes his eyes. He sees a Bible lying open, brings it to 
 Myra, and proceeds to swear. 
 
 " Stop ! " says the lady, placing her own little white 
 hand on his ; " I will trust to your simple word. Hon- 
 esty is written on your face, and your name stands high 
 on Fame's peerage roll. Take him. I will trust." 
 
 He now proceeded to arrange the terms. The little 
 boy was to go early every morning, the Sabbath excepted ; 
 the whole of that day would belong to his mother. He 
 should receive all requisite instruction, have proper hours 
 for recreation and exercise : the rest of the time would 
 be taken up in getting ready and in rehearsing his little 
 role. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 169 
 
 " That will do," said the young mother. "I trust to 
 your kind heart that he shall not be overtasked." 
 
 " Come here, Clarence," said she, and the child ran in 
 from the kitchen, where he had been assisting his grand- 
 mother. His sweet baby face was blurred and smutted, 
 with soot and coal dust ; and his hands were red and stiff 
 with cold. He wore a long-sleeved, coarse, linen apron. 
 On perceiving Mr. Gooch, he stops, looking abashed : but 
 quickly recovering himself, he goes up to him. 
 
 u Ho ! ho ! ho ! My little prince, come doff that linen 
 vesture, and assume the royal purple." 
 
 Myra takes off the apron, washes his face, smooths his 
 hair, curling each bright lock over her own tiny fingers. 
 When she has finished, he agains turns to Mr. Gooch, who 
 exclaims, with a genuine burst of admiration, 
 
 " Hail, once more, Duke of York ! I think he is a 
 wonderful genius." 
 
 " Not so," said Myra. "He used to go sometimes to 
 the theater, where everything was explained to him ; 
 and we have read many of the popular plays together ; 
 also a few of Shakspeare's ; and having a fine memory, he 
 would frequently be able afterward to repeat whole pages. 
 Then, for amusement, and in sheer idleness, I would 
 instruct him in some simple rules of elocution. Many 
 times before he has been hailed £ Duke of York.' Some- 
 times he has ventured on < Eichard,' and ' Albert,' and 
 others." 
 
 "All this will now bring its reward. It will most 
 assuredly be repaid to you a thousand fold in the success 
 of your son ; in the pride you are bound to feel in his 
 brilliant career. It will also return to you in a golden 
 harvest. Will you allow me, madam, to pay a month's 
 salary in advance." 
 
 u Oh no ! I pray you do not place me under this obli- 
 gation ; permit me to decline. See what he brought home 
 last night," showing the pieces of gold and silver coin. 
 15 
 
170 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " We shall need no more until he has won his w T ay to 
 public favor, and is deemed worthy of his hire." 
 
 " Should you need any aid or service, of whatever 
 nature, will you honor me with your commands ? " 
 
 She thanked him with a sweet smile, and having 
 embraced the child tenderly, over and over again, hands 
 him to Mr. Gooch. 
 
 "Madam," says he, presenting his hand, " may I hope 
 that you will permit me sometimes to call on you along 
 with my protege ? " 
 
 Myra blushed, but replied quickly, " I fear, sir, I must 
 forego this pleasure, for the present. When I am differ- 
 ently situated it will afford me the greatest gratification. 
 I will advise you of that time through my son, and will 
 then hope to see you." 
 
 " Sir, will you not let me take my tea every evening 
 with my mother ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," says Myra, eagerly; "I had forgotten to 
 stipulate for that." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Mr. Gooch ; " anything and every- 
 thing, in reason, shall be permitted. Good morning, 
 madam." 
 
 Another kiss on that sweet, dewy mouth, and an ardent 
 embrace from the child, and she is alone. 
 
 "And is he gone?" she exclaims with " Medora." 
 " And is he gone ! Is Conrad gone ! " 
 
 " Yes, he's gone," quoth the old lady ; " he is gone ; and 
 where is he gone ? And who has sent him on his way to 
 perdition. Oh, Myra ! you will regret it ; I fear you will 
 rue the day that you ever saw that man, that Mr. Goose, 
 or whatever else his hateful name is. What is his name?" 
 
 " Gooch, madam." 
 
 M Well, I don't care ; I hate him, any how. He has 
 taken the only sunbeam from this house. Sad, and dreary, 
 and deep is the gloom of this place to me now! " 
 
 " Grandma, hush ! for God's sake hush ! Would you 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 171 
 
 upset what little courage I may have drawn from the 
 hope of having done my duty? Would you have that 
 gifted child to be forever a ' Hewer of wood, and drawer 
 of water?'" 
 
 " I would have him, when he quits this world prepared 
 to mingle with pure spirits in heaven ; I would have him 
 ready to meet his God ! Oh ! most unnatural mother ! 
 Oh, proud, ambitious woman ! will nothing humble you? " 
 
 Myra sat quite unmoved. She neither spoke, nor wept. 
 She seemed to be sustained and buoyed up above all that 
 could vex or annoy. Hope was now at the helm, there- 
 fore the little bark will weather the storm, and that poor, 
 stricken young mother will find her vessel, w T ith herself 
 and sweet fledgling in a safe mooring at last. 
 
 " Oh ! " sobbed the old lady, still rocking herself fiercely, 
 " I miss my child ; I miss his bright face, his mocking- 
 bird voice, and I miss his little hands more than all.'' 
 
 Myra smiled quietly, but said nothing. 
 
 This domestic scene w^as interrupted by the entrance 
 of an old man, who softly lifts the latch and comes, unan- 
 nounced, toward the fire, creeping and tottering along. 
 His beard and hair are as white as milk, hanging far 
 down on his breast and shoulders. He is poorly clad and 
 seems to be cold and weary. 
 
 Myra hands him a chair, looking pityingly at him ; 
 then invites him very kindly to draw near to the fire ; 
 offers to take his cap, which he declines, speaking in a low 
 and quavering voice. He seems wholly absorbed in the 
 comforts of the little grate, spreading out his thin, bony 
 hands over the blaze. 
 
 The old lady has left the room, and Myra again begins 
 to ply her needle, having fixed her eyes on her work ; the 
 old man peers keenly from under his cap around the 
 room ; no corner or crevice escapes him. He fixes his 
 eyes on the lady ; as she raises her's from time to time his 
 
172 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 drop beneath their soft, mild expression, and instantly 
 resume the same stolid, marble-like look. 
 
 Finally, he asks her, with the real mendicant whine, 
 for something to eat, saying he had journeyed far, and 
 had not yet broken his fast. 
 
 She leaves the room, and as she passed to the kitchen, 
 murmured, " Poor old man, I will divide even to the half 
 that I have." 
 
 She was gone but a moment, yet long enough for the 
 money which Murdoch had placed on the mantle-piece to 
 pass from the shelf to his pocket. 
 
 Myra returns, saying she had nothing in the house fit 
 to offer him, but gives him a piece of money, telling him 
 he must buy a dinner at some restaurant. 
 
 He thanked her very humbly, and rose to depart ; but 
 suddenly seeming to remember something he again seated 
 himself ; he then inquired if she wanted to hire a servant? 
 
 Myra replied she would like to get a little negro girl. 
 
 " All right then, madam, I have just the one to suit you ; 
 but I ask two dollars a week.'' 
 
 Myra nodded assent. 
 
 Promising to send her that evening, he thanked her for 
 her charity, and offered his withered hand, and as he 
 seemed to bow his head over her's she saw that his eyes 
 gleamed with a sinister expression, as they fell on the 
 opal ring. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, when the sun was about to bid 
 adieu to this nether world, there came to the hovel a tall, 
 graceful girl, very much wrapped up, and closely veiled. 
 She seemed reserved and constrained, but Myra was 
 interested, and showed her all the civilities which the 
 nature of the case permitted. At last she spoke in a low, 
 sweet, tremulous voice : 
 
 " I have called, madam, to see you about the little ser- 
 vant whom my father engaged to furnish. I entreat you 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 173 
 
 to show her as much lenity as will be consistent with pru- 
 dence only. She is a smart child, and will seem docile 
 and obedient, but children should not be trusted too far. 
 Mind my words, lady, and trust not too much." 
 
 " I hope she is good and faithful ; above all, truthful," 
 said Myra. 
 
 "I will bring her, madam, and let you try her," said 
 the girl, seeming to evade the query. 
 
 She left, but in a very short time returned, bringing 
 with her a little negro girl, very black, and with remark- 
 ably straight hair for an African. Myra throughout had 
 treated the veiled lady with so much consideration and 
 kindness, that when she took her hand to say adieu, she 
 carried it to her lips, and a tear fell on it, dimming that 
 same opal ring. 
 
174 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE LADY AND THE TOADY. 
 
 "Nor do they trust their tongues alone, 
 But speak a language of their own ; 
 Can read a nod, a shrug, a look, 
 Far better than a printed book ; 
 Convey a libel in a frown, 
 And wink a reputation down." 
 
 Sweet Mary Green and her mother sat in that young 
 lady's dressing-room. The former had been ill for sev- 
 eral weeks, consequently had not set out on that tour 
 which was in projection at the opening of our story. 
 Myra had never been called on to aid them in fitting out 
 her wardrobe ; but there had been forwarded to her from 
 time to time, very substantial proofs of their generosity. 
 Neither Mary nor her mother had called since, so they 
 never knew that the greater portion of their bounty had 
 not reached them. Negroes do not like to see anything 
 going out from the full stores of their owners to the empty 
 shelves of " poor white folks," as they term the less for- 
 tunate members of God's family. Therefore, much that 
 was intended to comfort the interesting members of that 
 little household never traveled beyond the kitchen, or 
 the nearest negro quarters. 
 
 The mother and daughter were just speaking of that 
 "poor lady in disguise," as Emma always called Myra, 
 when she (Emma) entered the room. 
 
 After the usual salutations were over, and the sincere 
 kiss of friendship had been given, Emma Calderwood 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 175 
 
 commenced in her off-hand way: "Ah ! Mary, I have the 
 strangest thing to tell you." 
 
 " Have you, then? " replied Mary, " I'm glad of it ; I 
 have not heard a marvelous thing since I last saw your 
 mother and Miss Nancy." 
 
 "I do wish you had been at the theater for the last few 
 nights. Our own beautiful little protege made his debut, 
 and looked ten times more lovely than ever. I do think 
 there must have been a peck of sovereigns thrown on to 
 the stage." 
 
 A servant enters and announces Mrs. Calderwood and 
 Miss Jones. 
 
 " Oh Lord ! Now I am dumb, and would like to be 
 deaf for the next half hour," said Emma, looking annoyed. 
 
 "Ask them to walk up, Euth," said Mrs. Green. 
 
 Presently they were heard ascending the steps — Mrs. 
 Calderwood bending under the weight of finery, and poor 
 old Miss Nancy under her budget of news. They seem 
 to be in high glee. 
 
 " Ah ! said Emma, somebody is down now\ Hear ! 
 they are holding a jubilee over some pretty woman's fall, 
 some poor man's failure or defalcation. Some lady's mis- 
 fortunes have furnished the basis for this rejoicing." 
 
 "Oh! you here, Emma? I thought you had gone to 
 congratulate your friends on their elevation, that is to be," 
 said Mrs. Calderwood. 
 
 f £ No, mamma, I came here to sit with Mary." 
 
 After being seated, seeing that neither Emma, Mary, nor 
 Mrs. Green asked an explanation, Miss Nancy Jones opens 
 the conversation by saying, 
 
 "Well, Mis Green, have you heard the news to-day?" 
 
 " I have read it, Miss Jones." 
 
 " Oh ! but I guess you haven't read it all." 
 
 " I have read all that was meant for the public eye. 
 Beyond this I have no right or desire to pry." 
 
 "Oh ! you haven't? Well, Mis Callerwood, but don't 
 
176 
 
 THE NIGH T W A T H . 
 
 you think it's very strange that she should have sold her 
 child ? her own flesh and blood ? " 
 
 " "Whom do you mean. Miss Nancy ? " asked Emma. 
 
 " Why, your and Miss Green's progidy of perfection, 
 that insolent woman down on Market street. Yes, she 
 has actually sold her little boy to Gooch, the manager of 
 
 the theater," rejoined Mrs. Calderwood, with a look 
 
 of great satisfaction. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," struck in Miss Nancy, " Gooch was down 
 there the other morning, closely shut uj) the whole day 
 with the milliner. Toward night he was seen going home 
 leading the poor lad along, just like a calf or a sheep, by 
 the shambles." 
 
 " He gives her a fine price, certainly," added Mrs. C, 
 " more than any one of my negro boys would bring." 
 
 " How much, Madam?" asked Mrs. Green, looking very 
 coldly. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I can't descend to particulars ; 
 but I was told it was a fine price, and a very advan- 
 tageous sale." 
 
 " O mamma ! do stop ; you make me sick." 
 
 "I don't wonder, my dear; and you must be pained 
 too, to find yourself so deceived and put upon by such 
 vile dissembling stragglers, and I don't know what else 
 besides." 
 
 Emma was about to attempt a justification of her 
 favorites, when Miss Nancy again cut in. 
 
 " They do say, Mis Callerwood, that Gooch and that 
 milliner are agoing to get married right away ; and then 
 she's to take all the heavy tragedy-queen parts; and the 
 old woman's to play all the hags, and witches of Dendor, 
 and Bacbeth ; and the boy's to do all the young villains 
 and dare-devils." 
 
 "Ah! now you are at fault, Jones. I'm better posted 
 up this time, for a wonder, than even the sapient Miss 
 Nancy." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 177 
 
 "What? what is it, then, Mis Oalderwood ? Now do 
 tell?" 
 
 "Why, mam, she is — without a shadow of a doubt, 
 without the slightest shade of an uncertainty — engaged 
 to Murdoch, 1 The Night Watch.' He almost lives there, 
 either inside or outside of the house. He stays, I'm told, 
 till one or two o'clock every night with the woman inside, 
 and till day against the lamp-post on the outside. Now 
 you know, of course, Mrs. Green, that the old woman and 
 child must be fast asleep long before that. You must 
 know this, mad-am." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Calderwood, I do not know. I am not so 
 well posted up as yourself." 
 
 "Well, any how," again cut in poor old Miss Nancy, 
 " When he is forced away from her, by his street duties, 
 he jest takes his stand before her window, and peeps in 
 at her through the curtain (which has a slit torn in it on 
 purpose) the live long night." 
 
 " Oh ! This is monstrous ! It is unprecedented vindic- 
 tiveness." 
 
 " 'Tis so, Mis Green. 'Tis monsrous bad, indeed ; and 
 to think that I belittled myself so much as to ask her to 
 quilt me a skuirt." 
 
 "And that foolish child there, wanted to give her all 
 those fine fabrics of hers to have ruined, and spotted over 
 with salt water from those soft, deceptious-looking eyes. 
 I wonder, Mrs. Green, if it will get out to our injury, that 
 we entered that den of vice and poverty?" asked Mrs. 
 Calderwood. 
 
 "And do you think, Mis Green, 'twill blemish my 
 reputation, if it gets to be known that I went in there to 
 ask her to " 
 
 "Which she rejected with such scorn," said Emma, 
 laughing heartily. " Oh ! she would not quilt that skirt. 
 How impertinent ? " 
 
 "Shut up, Miss Purtness, I'm not a talking to you. 
 
178 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Do you, mam," again turning to Mrs. Green with an inno- 
 cent look of inquiry. 
 
 " Oh no ! I think you have nothing to fear. I have no 
 idea that either of you ladies can be worsted by this 
 unfortunate stranger." 
 
 " Well, I reckon not. We are too well established," said 
 Mrs. Calderwood. 
 
 " Doubtless in some things, to be hurt," rejoined Mrs. 
 Green. 
 
 " Mis Callerwood, they do say that Murray and Ger- 
 trude Lindsay are agoing to be married next week." 
 
 " You don't say so, Jones ? Oh, it can't be true ! " 
 
 " Yes, it can though. I tell you they do say so." 
 
 " Why, Jones, what did Ann tell Moggy Ann ? Didn't 
 she say it was all off? " 
 
 " Oh, but Ann didn't prick her ears well, that time. It 
 was all made up that same night, and the day was fixed 
 then. Gertrude goes every day now, to see the 'young 
 old lady,' and they are as thick as peas in a pod. The 
 old woman loves the girl, but Murray loves the money." 
 
 "How did you learn all these private matters?" asked 
 Mrs. Green, coldly. 
 
 " Never mind, I've got a little bird that tells me every- 
 thing." 
 
 "Is it a white, black, or yellow bird ? " asked Emma, 
 with a merry look. 
 
 Miss Nancy again scowled, and looking at the girl, said 
 between her clenched teeth — u Insolent, hateful thing." 
 
 "But is this so," inquired Mrs. Calderwood. "Have 
 you heard of it, Mrs. Green? " 
 
 " Yes, madam, I know they are to be married, but not 
 so soon." 
 
 They then left; and in the course of the morning 
 made many calls, repeating everywhere those slanders. 
 
 One would think, that this was a sorry and depraved 
 condition of society, when such persons as these are 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 179 
 
 received on familiar footing into the first families in the 
 city. Yet it is not more strange than true. You must 
 know, dear reader, that Mrs. Calderwood is wealthy, gives 
 big dinners, and grand parties ; is besides, related to 
 the present Governor. Miss Nancy Jones is her " prime 
 minister." Gossip, eaves-dropper and toady, and general 
 spy, as she is well known to be, she is still received and 
 even welcomed almost everywhere. Our neighbors are 
 very fond of knowing each other's business ; above all, 
 their family secrets. Consequently those two ladies are 
 courted by all. 
 
 Their last visit is made to the mansion of Col. Murray. 
 They are ushered into the drawing-room without delay. 
 This is one of the old lady's regular reception-days. She 
 has only three a week. Miss Lindsay, Mrs. Murray, and 
 the Colonel are at home. Gertrude is seated at the piano, 
 and is looking magnificent. Truly, happiness is a great 
 beautifier of the human face ! The mother is arrayed in 
 all her regality — purple, velvet, Mechlin lace, and jewels. 
 The son is dressed with severe simplicity, and is silent and 
 moody. 
 
 On the entrance of the ladies, Miss Lindsay had risen 
 from the instrument. She seats herself apart from the 
 company, and Murray, to shield himself from the obtru- 
 siveness of the visitors, takes a chair by her side, and 
 commences a conversation in a low tone. 
 
 Gertrude was greatly delighted. But now he is fast 
 sinking into abstraction. At last he seems to have for- 
 gotten her — her, his betrothed. Her presence brings no 
 beam of sunshine to his frozen heart. 
 
 Poor Murray ! he had some time since recovered from 
 his brief intoxication ; had waked up, and could dream 
 no more. But with the same sort of highly-wrought res- 
 olution which incites a man to meet danger or death, 
 for honor or conscience-sake, he was determined to go 
 through with the marriage ; yet there was a feeling of 
 
180 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 entere self-immolation. He might be wretched, or he 
 might die,, but he would not with premeditation sully his 
 honor or forfeit his word. 
 
 In the meantime, these two familiar acquaintances had 
 regularly recounted to Mrs. Murray all that had been 
 repeated at Mrs. Green's, which had been detailed with 
 many additions at some four or five other places. Now it 
 had swelled into a mighty and marvelous tale, strange 
 and ugly, as Miss Nancy said. Murray, during his seem- 
 ing revery, had been listening fixedly. Not a word had 
 escaped him. But when they spoke of Murdoch as a lover, 
 nay, as the affianced of the incomparable Myra, he started 
 to his feet so suddenly as to frighten Gertrude. On pass- 
 ing, he trod on her foot, which made her scream out. 
 
 " Pardon me," said he, and hurried out of the room. A 
 sign passed from one lady to the other. 
 
 When these two harpies had left, Miss Lindsay drew 
 near to Mrs. Murray, taking a low seat at her feet, and 
 looking distractedly around her, says, 
 
 " Mother, O mother, pity me ! " 
 
 She oftentimes accosted her by that endearing name. 
 In fact, the unwavering friendship which these two con- 
 genial natures felt for each other, that intimacy which had 
 withstood so many rude shocks, was the one redeeming 
 trait in their lives — " The one virtue linked with a thousand 
 faults." Gertrude had grown up from infancy under the 
 eye of Mrs. Murray, and was in some sort her foster child. 
 
 " Now you see, mother, how it is? I told you so. 
 When I read that anonymous letter, I felt my doom was 
 fixed. You tried to reassure me, and you did caress away 
 my doubts for the time, but they have returned with 
 ten-fold intensity. I feel as I imagine a convict does 
 who is subject to the fearful alternations of hope and 
 despair. I will not be trifled with much longer. My 
 father does not know how I have been treated. He 
 does not surmise the base part I have played in this court- 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 181 
 
 ship. He looks upon Conrad Murray as one full of eccen- 
 tricities, but as the most chivalric of men, the most 
 impassioned of lovers. But, mother, this thing must end. 
 I will break this chain which has been no chain till now, 
 or so wreathed with roses that I felt it not. Now the 
 thorns begin to prick me, and the links chafe. I shall 
 have this chain either riveted or broken soon. If broken, 
 mother, your foster daughter will not hang herself with a 
 blue or pink silk scarf, nor jump out of a third story win- 
 dow; neither will she, like Juliet, forestall him in the 
 friendly cup, nor even elope with Mr. Gaines ; but she 
 will make Charles Conrad Murray rue the hour that he 
 ever saw the light of day, or Gertrude Lindsay." 
 
 " Oh! for God's sake! Gertrude stop; you make me 
 shudder. You frighten even me, who never did quail but 
 once in my life, and that was under his eye. That man's 
 eye is as keen as a two-edged sword. But enough. I 
 know, my dear, although he is my son, that there is some- 
 thing wrong about the boy ; something strange and fan- 
 tastical, and then again fearful. But just wait, my child ; 
 such a looking woman as you are, Gertrude, beautiful and 
 so voluptuous, must rivet the chain, though it be forged by 
 circumstances and expediency. / know, Gerty, I am a 
 judge of these things ; and besides, I know too much 
 about his passionate, fierce nature when aroused, to doubt 
 of the result ; and don't you doubt either, my dear child, 
 but trust to me. I rarely fail in my diplomacy. I always 
 carry my point, either by foul means or fair." 
 
 The beauty seemed reassured. As she passed through 
 the hall, she heard his measured step in the parlor. He 
 did not offer to attend her, although Tivvy had been sent 
 to inform him that such was his mother's wishes. 
 
 " Go on, go on, Tivvy ; I don't know what you are say- 
 ing. I will listen to you some other time." The girl 
 stood there staring at him in amazement ; he was as pale 
 as death. " Go away, Tivvy, that's a good girl." 
 
182 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " What shall I tell her ? " said Tivvy. 
 
 " Anything you please, so that you leave me alone." 
 
 When Tivvy vanished, he locked the door and resumed 
 his march, talking the while. 
 
 " Why this wild emotion ? What is the woman to me ? 
 Nothing, other than she resembles my lost Marianna. I 
 do not know much of this poor lady, but every one who 
 does know her says she is an angel. Why should I thus 
 shudder at the good Murdoch mating with this gentle 
 dove? I am myself to be married soon, and my own 
 marriage will be as ill-assorted as theirs. That child, too, 
 is like my lost bride. Poor Marianna ! cut off in the 
 flower of thy youth, amid the glory of such heavenly 
 beauty." He stops and placing his finger on his lip, 
 seems to reflect. " Would to heaven I could break these 
 two untoward marriages ; would that I knew the secret 
 which envelops her life. O that I could clear up those dark 
 mysteries. What brings that old Jew peddler here ? or 
 why does he thus dog my steps? Thrice have I turned, 
 intending to chastise his impertinence, old as he is ; but 
 he seemed to fade from my sight as if the earth had 
 opened and swallowed him up. Ah ! how that woman's 
 image haunts me ! Ha ! now I remember one of the har- 
 pies spoke of her engagement to Gooch, and that she was 
 to become a stock actress. I know this to be false, so may 
 be all else which their vituperative tongues uttered. I 
 know Gooch ; he is a gentleman, although connected with 
 a theater, and never would jeopardize the reputation of 
 an unprotected woman. I heard him speak of his inter- 
 view, whicE did not last more than one hour. I also 
 heard him laud her modesty and good sense. 
 
 A rap at the door, and the impatient voice of his mother 
 demands instant admittance. After looking at him very 
 keenly, she said, " My son, Gertrude wishes to attend the 
 theater to-night." 
 
 " Well, madam : I have no objection." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH . 
 
 183 
 
 " Should you not attend her, sir? — your affianced wife, 
 Charles Conrad Murray!" She always gave the full 
 name when she wished to be impressive. 
 
 " I am ready, madam. Do you think she desires my 
 attendance? " 
 
 " Of course, she expects it." 
 
 u If you wish it, my mother, then I will call for her. 
 But where is Mr. Gaines ? I do not remember ever to 
 have seen her there without him. If he does not go with 
 her, he joins her immediately after ; and they are fre- 
 quently so absorbed, that they do not see or hear any of 
 the play." 
 
 " Now, Charlie, you are jealous. Well, that is a first 
 rate symptom." 
 
 " Not so : would to heaven I could feel or care enough 
 to be made jealous." 
 
 The old lady frowned, and her white, even, pretty 
 teeth worked fiercely up and down — and so she swept 
 from the room. 
 
184 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 THE MISER'S HOME. 
 
 " As pale and wan as ashes was his look, 
 His body lean and meager as a rake, 
 And skin all withered like a dried rook ; 
 Then, too, as cold and dreary as a snake, 
 That seemed to tremble evermore and quake." 
 
 When Miss Lindsay left Mrs. Murray, to return home 
 as she stated, after going in that direction for several 
 squares, she struck into an unfrequented street, or alley ; 
 this led to a dismal, dirty court, which was that portion 
 of the city occupied by the Jews for dwellings, or rather 
 stopping places (for they do not dwell), and is called the 
 Jews' Quarter. She had now arrived at the place she 
 sought — a gloomy, dilapidated pile of old brick walls, 
 black with age, and green with mold. She entered a 
 dark alley, and passing into a narrow back yard, pushed 
 open a low door, and bending her haughty head, com- 
 menced ascending a spiral staircase. Up, up, up, she 
 mounted, higher and higher, until she felt assured she 
 must be near the roof. The next step brought her to a 
 platform, or landing. On reaching this she was com- 
 pelled to stop for breath. In the intensity of her feel- 
 ings, amid that tornado of raging passions — love, hatred, 
 and jealousy — she had forgotten everything but the object 
 in view. Having rushed along the street with the 
 velocity of a steam engine, then mounting that flight of 
 steps, which, like Jacob's ladder, seemed to reach to the 
 heavens, she was compelled to lean against the wall for 
 
T H E NIGH T W ATCH 
 
 185 
 
 several moments before she could give the signal, or low 
 double rap. 
 
 That platform was so constructed by some cunning 
 device, that when the foot touched the last board, a little 
 bell tinkled over the head of the miser ; consequently he 
 was never taken by surprise. The fact, too, that no one 
 could ascend those winding steps without stopping to rest 
 on the threshhold, was another thing in his favor. The 
 old wretch was indulging (which he sometimes did after 
 an unusual success in villany) in a bowl of rich stewed 
 oysters, and fine white bread, washed down by the best 
 wine. Leah had prepared this sumptuous recast, and 
 was standing by his side while he ate. 
 
 When that little bell tinkled, he exclaimed, "Here 
 shild, take the tings away. Somebody wants to speak 
 mit thy fadder on business. Let every ting be hid away." 
 
 As if by magic, the fragments, dirty dishes, and bottle 
 vanished — then, when the rap was given, a little, low, 
 mean chuckle preceded the feeble, quavering u come in ; " 
 and Leah, as once before, became part and parcel of a 
 quantity of old clothes on the wall. When Miss Lindsay 
 entered, she found the Jew seated on the same old hair 
 trunk. He had assumed even a more lean, lank, cold and 
 hungry look than ever. 
 
 " Well, Mordecai, I've come again, you see." This was 
 said to the low, cringing reverence, that the miser made 
 to the wealthy aristocrat. 
 
 "Yes, mine lady, I sees." 
 
 " Then sit down and listen to me. I have such need of 
 your services as will call forth all your energy and shrewd- 
 ness ; and for which, if you serve me well, and succeed, I 
 will pour more gold into your old trunk there, than 
 any one ever did before, or ever will again." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! mine lady, thou is mishtaken : old Mordecai, 
 the Jew, is so poor that he can't buy new cloth to make 
 his coat, and he is always half starved." 
 16 
 
186 
 
 THE N I G H T W A T C H . 
 
 u Never tell me that, Faggot. I know that you and 1 
 with our combined strength, could not move that strong- 
 box one inch." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! thou is mishtaken, mine lady ; I will show 
 thee that thou is mishtaken." And then he proceeded to 
 unlock the trunk, which, much to the surprise of Ger- 
 trude, contained some articles of clothing, that seemed 
 to be only a little bit cleaner than the rags he wore. 
 
 " See ! see ! lady," says he, as he turns them over for 
 her inspection, " dis is all." 
 
 " Well, Jew, I have done you injustice, as many another 
 has, no doubt ; and as many more will. But let that pass ; 
 I crave your pardon, Mordecai." 
 
 "Oh! mine lady!" and he bows himself down in the 
 most servile, abject manner. 
 
 " I will say, then, that I will place the largest amount, 
 or the first contribution, if you will, in that trunk." 
 
 " Go on, lady, old Faggot is ready." 
 
 " Now, Mordecai, you know that pretty milliner down 
 Market street, who is turning the town upside down, and 
 all the men's heads with it. She seems to be in every- 
 body's way. She is in mine, and I want her put out 
 of it. She must be removed — safely stored away, 
 Faggot," and the words came hissingly from her pretty 
 mouth. 
 
 " Oh ! now, mine lady, how can dat poor woman stand 
 in thy way ? the comely and high maiden, mit so much 
 gold monish." 
 
 " A truce with your fulsome flattery. If you do not 
 listen and come to terms at once, I will engage old Nathan, 
 the other Jew dog, your next door neighbor. I chose you, 
 Faggot, thinking there are degrees of wickedness even in 
 hell, and of all the devils I wanted the biggest." 
 
 " Oh ! he ! he ! he ! " chuckled the Jew, and he grinned ; 
 showing little white, pointed teeth, such as we see in the 
 mouth of a jackall. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 187 
 
 " Go on, lady, I'll do it, dat's all I is got to say. I'll 
 do it. I'll do it." 
 
 " Next week I have promised to marry Conrad Mur- 
 ray ; but some mysterious circumstances have transpired, 
 which make me think this low-born, obscure, and, I am 
 told, suspicious person will try to interrupt the marriage. 
 Now, Mordecai, I confess, with shame and confusion of 
 face, that I fear this creature more than all the belles and 
 beauties of the city." 
 
 " Oh yes ! she is comely — bright as de sun, and beau- 
 tiful as was Fadder Jacob's w r ife, Rachel — de comely 
 Rachel ! " 
 
 The lady scowled, and the Jew showed his jackall teeth 
 again. 
 
 " Is she so ? Then so much greater the necessity to 
 have her removed." 
 
 "What does thou propose, my lady ? " said Faggot. 
 
 " I propose nothing to such a fiendish machinator as 
 yourself. I thought the devil abounded in devices. I did 
 think he was never at a loss for ways and means to work 
 ruin and devastation on the human family. When I find 
 that hovel vacant and Murdoch and his hounds set on the 
 wrong trail, and she is no more forthcoming, I will pay 
 you five hundred dollars." 
 
 His little red-hot coals of fire gleamed out again from 
 under his shaggy, gray eye-brows. 
 
 "Write it, mine lady," said he, producing the same lit- 
 tle ink-horn and the stump of a pen; and taking a small 
 piece of paper, which he again divided, hands her the 
 scrap. 
 
 Then that smart, scheming woman, had the imprudence 
 to write her promissory note for that amount, with her 
 true signature affixed. 
 
 The door opened, a little negro girl entered, and came 
 toward them. 
 
 " Who is this, sir? " shouted the beauty. M How T dare 
 
188 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 you, base traitor, to allow any one to come upon me here 
 in your vile den?" She sprung to her feet and seized 
 the old man by the collar. " Wretch ! dog ! I will shake 
 the soul out of your body !" and she jerked him violently 
 from his seat. 
 
 " Oh ! Fadder Abraham, and Jacob, and de God of dem 
 all, save me ! Lady, it is only my own little slave. Fear 
 nothing ; she does not understand, nor speak any language 
 but the ancient one of my peoplesh." Then he turned to 
 the child, and they conversed in an earnest tone, the girl 
 making gestures of disgust and disapprobation to what 
 the old man said. 
 
 Mordecai turns to the beauty. u You may depend on 
 me. When to-morrow's sun shall rise, he w T ill shine on 
 dat empty hovel — on dat cold grate. Den two, tree 
 days more, and old Faggot will come to de palace of de 
 'queen of beauty,' to git his monish." 
 
 " 'Tis well ! " said the lady. 
 
 Just then there was a slight noise behind those old 
 clothes on the wall. The lady again started to her feet. 
 " What noise was that? Infidel dog! false Israelite! 
 would you entrap and betray your benefactress? " 
 
 " Oh ! Fadder Abraham ! it is nothing, only but rats." 
 
 But Gertrude seemed greatly disturbed, and proceeded 
 to examine every part of the wall — peeping and prying 
 curiously about. When she came to those old clothes, 
 she took every piece down and scrutinized the panels. 
 Faggot and the child had watched her with the most 
 nervous anxiety ; but when she turned to them again, 
 they were both unconcernedly looking into the fire. 
 
 When the lady had left, Faggot and the little negro 
 talked for some time. Then he dismissed her, after 
 which he run his hand under the old clothes on the wall, 
 and a noise was heard like the click of a spring. He now 
 soliloquized, in a low, guttural voice, " I is myself only 
 smart enough to head dat Leah. It takes old Faggot, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 189 
 
 mit all his cunning, to overtake dat shild. I is got her 
 fast shut up in her cage now, tank Got ! Dat wash one 
 clever invention, dat counter-spring." 
 
 He busied himself in taking from their several hiding 
 places certain garments of better quality and condition 
 than those he wore ; and while he proceeded to array 
 himself in them, he muttered all the time : " De girl is 
 goot — I like her very much ; but she is not true to my 
 peoplesh like Hagar is. So oftentimes she thwarts my 
 plans of vengeance against de proud Nazarene. O 
 Leah ! if thou was true to me and mine peoplesh, when 
 my vengeance is satisfied, I would make de like unto de 
 Queen o' Sheba. But Fadder Abraham, de girl is merci- 
 ful to dem Christian dogs ! Yet I is up to her dish time ; 
 she is fast enough." 
 
 Then he touches another spring in a panel, differing 
 in nothing from the surrounding blank walls. This dis- 
 covers a large mirror, which reflects the image of the 
 Jew as he looked when he forced poor Myra, as her land- 
 lord, to place that sign over her door. He is himself now, 
 and presents the appearance of a brisk, shrewd little 
 man — not much beyond fifty or fifty-five years of age. 
 Those ugly, shaggy brows have disappeared ; those milk- 
 white locks and flowing beard, have given place to a 
 naked, but wrinkled, dried -looking face, and close-cropped, 
 iron-gray hair. All, everything is changed, but the little 
 gleaming eyes and the jackall teeth. He wraps himself 
 up in his ample shawl, and putting on his cap, views him- 
 self again in the mirror, and, with a low chuckle of satis- 
 faction, thus soliloquizes again: 
 
 " Oh, oh ! the woman is very beautiful ; dat j^azarene 
 is comely. I feel someting stirring in dis old heart dat 
 has been dead, dead, dead so long," tapping his side with 
 his fingers. " O Eachel ! my beloved wife, I owes to 
 thy memory a hecatomb of dem vile Nazarene. But 1 
 
190 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 am paying dem off, I am giving dem beds of thorns to 
 sleep on, and tears to water dere couch." 
 
 He views himself again from head to foot, and the lit- 
 tle, sharp teeth shine out from under the corrugated lips, 
 as he exclaims, u Dat will do ; dat will do. De Gentile 
 woman is very comely." Then restoring the mystic panel, 
 he left. 
 
 By another intricate stairway he takes his course to a 
 store, comprising articles of every description — new and 
 second-hand clothing, furniture also of the finest mahog- 
 any and rosewood, down to the plainest pine boards. On 
 entering the front store he finds a clerk engaged in the 
 sale of a renovated coat, which the young man (a small, 
 thin, but good-looking youth) declared had come that 
 morning from the hands of the tailor. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Nathan," said young Isaacs, and 
 then they exchanged a few words in their own tongue. 
 
 Now Mr. Nathan, the Jew clothing merchant, emerged 
 into that dismal court from his own store. He walked 
 rapidly along through all its devious windings, passing 
 through many a private alley until he reached Market 
 street. There many other Jews are passing and repass- 
 ing pursuing their several avocations, but all tending to 
 the same end, to overreach and swindle the Christian. 
 There is many a smile of recognition, many a hat touched 
 and head bowed in lowly reverence to the wealthy cloth- 
 ing merchant. 
 
 He now arrives at the hovel, having settled in his mind 
 to extort the last penny of the rent before his diabolical 
 purpose of suppressing the beautiful proprietor shall have 
 put it beyond his power to do so. He knocks ; a very 
 soft and musical voice invites him to enter. Myra is 
 seated as usual in her low chair, and is writing on her 
 lap. She puts by the old port-folio, and with innate good 
 breeding, rises and offers him a chair. Oh ! how beauti- 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 191 
 
 ful she looks then ! so gentle and winning was her smile ; 
 so pellucid those deep, earnest, blue eyes. He sits there 
 silently gazing at her. 
 
 Does the man feel softened? Does the Jew relent? 
 While he, with those little fiery eyes devours that match- 
 less form and face, does he relent ? that old Jew. He 
 may, for he is a creature of like passions with ourselves. 
 The Jew may feel, may love. The man, however savage, 
 may be tamed and won from his brutality, but the miser 
 never. For one moment the man, the Jew even, has the 
 ascendency, and the u still, small voice " begins to whis- 
 per and is heard. He raises his little blood-shot eyes to 
 her innocent face, her heavenly countenance, and exclaims, 
 mentally, 
 
 " No, I will not harm her. Wretch as I am, I will not, 
 I can not imbrue my hands in her blood. May the God 
 of Jacob render this arm powerless to hurt thee, thou 
 angel woman ! " In the intensity of this new feeling, for 
 one instant he had lost sight of himself, and stretching 
 out his arm at that point w T here he makes the solemn 
 adjuration, cries out, " I can not; Oh no, I can not ! " 
 
 The sudden start, the evident recoil, and frightened 
 look of his victim disenchanted him. And now avarice 
 asserts his dominion. The Miser whispers, " Jew, thou art 
 a fool ! Dost thou suffer a pretty face to blind thee to the 
 abject condition of thy hard-pressed people? — thy des- 
 pised race?" Avarice gibbers in the ear of the man, 
 
 u Dotard ! dost thou not see that she turns loathingly 
 away from thee, shuddering at thy wrinkled face and thy 
 unseemly, aged form ? Bethink thyself, man, Jew, and do 
 thine errand," and he clutched between his fingers, which 
 he had during his agitation thrust violently into his pocket, 
 the two promissory notes. 
 
 Myra turned deadly pale, and rising, w^ould have left 
 the room ; but feeling the necessity upon her to command 
 herself, she sat down, though further away from him. 
 
192 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 kC Sir," said she, in a timid voice, " is your business with 
 me or with my mother, this afternoon ? " 
 
 The miser grinned ; a grin in which the hyena, teeth 
 and all, was disclosed. He presented a paper, and while 
 she read it, he watched her keenly. Much to his surprise, 
 and maybe regret too, for another passion was now war- 
 ring with avarice in that old breast, when she had finished 
 it she rose, and inclining her head in the most conde- 
 scending manner to him, said, " I believe it is Mr. Nathan, 
 our landlord? You will pardon, sir, this recreancy of 
 memory. I had quite forgetten you." She went to her 
 trunk, taking from it a purse, and counted oat the amount, 
 and hands it to him. 
 
 Avarice has resumed his despotic sway in that poor, old 
 crime-stained heart. His eyes are riveted on the purse, 
 which she still holds in her hand, and he counts and 
 recounts the little sum. After which, with a growl, says, 
 " There is sixpence coming to me." She hands him a 
 shilling; then he with many regrets says, "I has no 
 change, mine lady." 
 
 u Never mind, sir, I do not care for it." Myra says this 
 condescendingly ; for now that hope has revived and for- 
 tune does not frown so loweringly, she was beginning 
 involuntarily to look and act the gracious princess. 
 
 The Jew puts on his cap, and coming up to her, pre- 
 sents his skinny hand to take leave, when she, with an 
 irrepressible shudder, steps back and bows, saying, " Good 
 afternoon, sir." 
 
 Poor lady! That last act, bo natural to thy refined and 
 delicate nature, has steeled that man's heart against thee! 
 Thou couldst not touch those hard, griping fingers — that 
 niggard, miserly hand. But thou didst shake hands with 
 the old pauper, who was filthy and disgusting. Thy gen- 
 tle hand and heart are oj^en to the calls of charity ; but 
 closed to the demands of avarice. 
 
 Myra sat for some time after the miser had left, lost in 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 193 
 
 thought. The man's look, his strange agitation, were all 
 enigmas to her. She did not, for one instant, think that 
 the little dried up, wizen-faced wretch would dare to raise 
 his eyes to her even to admire. 
 
 Looking up suddenly, she met the gaze of the little 
 negro fixed upon her. Oh ! that look ! in it was the con- 
 centration of malice. As quick as thought it vanished, 
 and was succeeded by the most gentle, subdued, and 
 obliging expression. 
 
 17 
 
194 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE COURTEOUS MANAGER. 
 
 "A seasoned friend not tainted with design, 
 Who made those words grow useless — thine and mine." 
 
 Many weeks had now elapsed since the little Clarence 
 had gone to take his chance with Mr. Gooch's Stock Com- 
 pany. Still the public clamored for the beautiful child, 
 Master Clarens. Night after night, he had played his 
 part without fault or failure. The contract between the 
 mother and manager had been complied with to the letter; 
 and Myra saw that her boy was improving in strength of 
 mind and body, without losing that sweet simplicity and 
 innocency peculiar to all childhood, but more especially to 
 Clarence. Mr. Gooch had often renewed his solicitations 
 to be permitted to call on the ladies ; but Myra, true to 
 herself, always declined, with due courtesy; yet with a 
 firmness which presently convinced him that her scruples 
 were purely prudential, and he learned to respect her the 
 more. 
 
 The patrons of that theater were extremely anxious 
 that Clarens should now be brought out in some piece in 
 which all his pow r ers should be put into requisition. Here- 
 tofore he had, through the tenderness of Gooch's big 
 heart, been kept pretty much in dumb shows, and 
 pageants, and such other characters as would show off 
 the personal attractions of the child, without taxing his 
 mind or memory overmuch, for Gooch was chary of that 
 boy's strength. 
 
 By particular request, they have consented to produce 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 195 
 
 William Tell, in order to show Clarens off in Albert ; and 
 now he is to appear in that interesting character, having 
 had careful instruction and training from Gooch himself. 
 On this morning, when the child arrives at the office of 
 that gentleman, he hands him a sealed packet, desiring 
 him as soon as he had delivered it, to hasten back, as the 
 last rehearsal would take place in the course of the 
 morning. 
 
 When Myra opens it, she finds a few lines from the 
 manager. 
 
 " Wednesday morning. 
 " My dear. Mrs. Wise — I pray you, excuse this liberty, 
 and do me the favor to accept the enclosed tickets for 
 yourself and friends. I very much desire that you shall 
 honor the House with your presence to-night, that you 
 may be among the first to hail the dawning fame of your 
 son, the fruits of your own precepts. In short, that you 
 may see your own noble attributes and perfections 
 reflected in the little mirror before the foot-lights. 
 
 " Yours, respectfully, 
 
 "G-ooch." 
 
 Myra hastily penned her thanks ; but declined, on the 
 score of having no suitable escort. 
 
 In a very short time the manager had found Doctor 
 Brown, explained to him what he had done, and then put 
 into his hands the two lines from Myra. 
 
 " Well ? " says Doctor Brown, dryly. 
 
 " Well ! yes, well ! don't you see what I want?" 
 
 "No," said the Doctor. "How should I? You have not 
 told me, and you don't look at me, so that I may read it 
 in your eyes." 
 
 " Go to, man ! Where is all that foresight, or rather 
 quicksight, into other peoples business, which belongs to 
 your calling? I wish you to see these ladies, and in the 
 most business-like way (eschewing everything like gal- 
 
196 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 lantry), offer to conduct them to my box, on the left-hand 
 side, near the stage. Mind, Brown, none of your blun- 
 dering bluntness. Bear in mind what you are doing, and 
 at whose behest. It is a delicate flower you will have to 
 handle, and see that you deport yourself properly and 
 respectfully." 
 
 " Gooch, I'll be blamed, if I did not know you were the 
 very prince of all good fellows, I'd knock you down where 
 you stand." 
 
 Gooch, who was quite tall and stout, clapped his hand 
 low down on his stomach and groaned — intending to 
 convey the idea that it would be about that region, where 
 the doughty little man's blows would fall. The exceed- 
 ingly grotesque expression of mock pain caused the doc- 
 tor to roar out ; and so his ire passed off, as he himself 
 passed on his way to call on Myra and good little Minny 
 Dun. 
 
 He simply stated to Mrs. "Wise the younger, that he 
 should come in the evening to conduct her and Minny to 
 the theater, nolens volens — having engaged a box very 
 near the stage, thinking she would most enjoy this situa- 
 tion. He left without giving her time to reply, and hur- 
 ried down to the toy-shop. 
 
 He found Minny behind her little counter, showing her 
 little wares to a prim little old woman. When she had 
 concluded her sale, and dropped the little piece of money 
 into the little drawer, she turned her attention to the lit- 
 tle doctor ; and strange as it may seem to the reader, a 
 little blush mantled the little cheeks of each. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Minny. Come get your bonnet 
 and go with me to see Mrs. Wise. I have some business 
 with you both together." 
 
 On his way he made known to Minny the nature of 
 his errand, and instead of having any scruples to combat, 
 the dear little creature was wild with delight at the idea. 
 She clapped her hands, then clasped them both round 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 197 
 
 the doctor's arm, and cried, in real ecstacy : " Aweel ! 
 aweel ! It will be sae delightful to see the winsome bairn 
 in that bonny part. The good, dutiful son, the clever 
 Albert. Oh, doctor, I'm sae glad to go, and I'm sae 
 obleeged to ye for taking me." 
 
 The doctor felt amply repaid for all the annoyances he 
 had known during his ten or twenty years servitude to 
 the public, by the happiness he felt in affording such 
 unalloyed pleasure to the good little creature by his side. 
 In fact, there was a freshness, blended with earnestness, 
 about her ; the avidity with which she seized upon any 
 recreation, or opportunity to vary her monotonous life, 
 never failed to delight not only her friends, but any 
 chance beholder. 
 
 When they were in Myra's little room, Minny did not 
 resort to arguments or persuasions, but commenced 
 describing, in glowing terms, the pride and joy which 
 she (Minny) anticipated in the child's triumph. 
 
 " Oh, just to think o' the wee bit bairn toddling about on 
 the beautiful stage, in that sweet character ! " And thus 
 Minny rattled on, with wild joyousness — sometimes kiss- 
 ing Myra, and almost kissing the doctor in her childish 
 glee. Once or twice she came very near upsetting the old 
 lady. Presently Myra, without having had the slightest 
 previous intention of accepting the invitation, found her- 
 self as much elated with proud expectancy as is possible 
 for any one to be. And there sat Dr. Brown smiling, 
 and sometimes laughing hilariously, and all the time gaz- 
 ing fondly on Minny. 
 
 At length the doctor jumped up, and, looking at his 
 watch, declared he had quite forgotten an important 
 engagement, reminded the two friends to be ready, and 
 left them. 
 
 During the whole time passed as above described, 
 the old lady sat moodily rocking herself without speak- 
 ing a word. When the doctor had gone, she roused up, 
 
198 
 
 THE NIGH T W A T C H . 
 
 and said gruffly, " Well, Myra, I did not think, after all 
 your sorrows, that you could have any heart in you to 
 play the fool in this way." 
 
 " Grandma, don't bother me. I have made up my mind 
 to go, and there is no use in throwing obstacles in the way, 
 or croaking either. I should think you would wish me 
 the relaxation of going out once in a year. Everything 
 in God's beautiful world has been closed to me so long." 
 
 " Ah ! Myra, well do I know that there is no use in 
 talking to such a girl as you are. You were always self- 
 willed and obstinate about one or two things — good in all 
 else. You never would, nor never will, I fear, listen to 
 the sober voice of reason, when the syren one of love 
 whispers." Seeing a gesture of impatience, and a flush 
 of vexation overspreading the pale face of her daughter, 
 she went on, with an assumed show of temper, herself: 
 " Now you are off again ! Dear me, what a life I do lead ! 
 Well, I don't care. Ill speak if the house comes down 
 over my head. You are not satisfied w^ith starting the 
 poor child off on the road to ruin, but you must e'en travel 
 the same broad, downward path yourself." 
 
 u Aweel ! aweel ! ISTow dinna fash, grandam, it will all 
 turn out weel and right in the end. Mind what I tell ye. 
 Wait and see." 
 
 " Yes ! ' all's w r ell that ends well.' Every fool knows 
 that; but this is not agoing to turn out well. Mind what 
 /tell you. Wait and see that, Minny Dun!" and she 
 hobbled out of the room, with an injured and vexed look. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 199 
 
 GHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 THE AMBUSH. 
 
 " Then bursting broad, the boundless shout to heaven, 
 From many an hundred hearts ecstatic sprung." 
 
 " My plots fall short, like darts which rash hands throw, 
 With an ill aim, that have too far to go." 
 
 Miss Lindsay sat in her splendid boudoir waiting for 
 her lover. She was on this evening looking radiantly 
 beautiful. She had received a note in the morning, with 
 " Colonel Murray's compliments, begging to be allowed 
 the honor of accompanying her to the theater. At least, 
 he hoped to be permitted to make one in her brilliant 
 train, if he were so unfortunate as to find her monopo- 
 lized for the walk." The poor girl was so blinded by 
 vanity, so much exalted in her own estimation by those 
 continual ovations, that she was almost beside herself. 
 She could not see that this was not Murray's way of 
 addressing her. She only saw that it was his handwriting, 
 and then sat down to reply to the note, and to revel in 
 the consciousness of this new triumph of her charms. 
 For be it remembered, this was a 'very unusual attention 
 from him, and as unexpected as it was pleasing. Hence 
 her beaming countenance. 
 
 Murrav had never seen the note ; and with shame be it 
 spoken, had not thought of Gertrude. After tea, when 
 his servant brought his hat and cloak, his mother said, 
 
 M Conrad, Gertrude expects you this evening ; I had 
 forgotten to tell you. She expects you to go with her to 
 the theater." 
 
200 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 He frowned, and replied, "I do not know why she 
 should; I have not asked her " 
 
 " Charles Conrad Murray, you are a, a, a (brute, said 
 the lady mentally) cynic. You must go for her ; I desire 
 it, particularly." 
 
 " Very well, madam, I will call." When he pro- 
 nounced these words he did not intend to prove recreant 
 to the promise ; but as he passed into the street he saw 
 Murdoch walking by and joined him, without giving 
 another thought to Gertrude or his mother. They saun- 
 tered on together, talking a little, but for the most part 
 preserving silence — for Murdoch was, as you know, a 
 man of small speech. 
 
 They had now reached a lonely, gloomy portion of the 
 city, where the Night Watch generally commenced his 
 vigils. It was growing late, almost dark. An old cov- 
 ered bridge was on their right. At that moment a figure, 
 closely muffled, darted from the place, and coming quickly 
 up to Murdoch, laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " Come with me, friend ; I have waited long." 
 
 " Ha ! it is some time since I have heard that Nightin- 
 gale voice." Then, without taking the least notice of his 
 companion, he followed the girl. 
 
 Murray stood there alone, like a tall, black pillar, in 
 the faint starlight — so erect and motionless was he. 
 
 " More mysteries ! " said he. After waiting a few 
 moments for their egress from the bridge, he turned and 
 walked slowly back. As he passed the theater the thun- 
 dering sounds issuing from it startled him from his 
 revery ; and then, and only then, did he think of Miss 
 Lindsay. 
 
 " Well ! I am a brute, as my mother said parenthet- 
 ically ; but I heard the hissing word when she tried to 
 turn it into cynic. Yes ; I do believe I am a brute. I 
 will go now and ask the proud beauty's pardon." 
 
 When he entered the house he perceived at a glance 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 201 
 
 that the crowd was crushing. That deafening applause, 
 which had at all times greeted the child's appearance had 
 just subsided, and the little fellow was speaking. 
 
 u I must manage to hear this," said Murray, turning to 
 the box-keeper. " Is Miss Lindsay's box full." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the man, grinning. " Her box is always 
 crowded." 
 
 'Who is with her?" 
 
 "Well, sir, the same 1 gemmen 9 that always follows her ; 
 Mr. Josiah Gaines, and nine or ten others." 
 
 " Where then can I find a place, Drummond." 
 
 " Maybe, p'r'aps I might squeeze you into a seat in the 
 manager's box, if that '11 do. 
 
 "Lead on, sir," said Murray, dropping a piece of silver 
 into the hand of the man. 
 
 When he arrived at the place designated, there seemed 
 not to be space for your hand ; but such a fine " open 
 sesame" is a little piece of silver, that Drummond very 
 soon made a vacancy. Murray then proceeds to wedge 
 himself into the place. At first his attention was wholly 
 absorbed by the little Albert, and he found himself, ere 
 he was aware of it, wiping his eyes. 
 
 There were two ladies sitting on the seat before him. 
 One appeared to be a remarkably pleasing little woman ; 
 all versatility and good humor — full of quaint yet sensible 
 criticisms on the play and performance. The other was 
 a lady dressed in deep mourning, and so closely veiled 
 that you could scarcely hear her voice when she replied 
 to the questions of the merry little soul by her side. She 
 seemed all the time to be struggling to subdue her feel- 
 ings ; and when Master Clarens came out again she was 
 seized with even a more overwhelming agitation. The 
 boy, from time to time, cast quick and anxious glances 
 toward that box ; especially at the veiled figure. 
 
 Just then there was a great sensation in the opposite 
 box. A moment before, Murray had discovered Miss 
 
202 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Lindsay almost lying in the bosom of Mr. Gaines, as she 
 turned to speak up to some one behind her. On resettling 
 herself, she encountered the cold, haughty look of her 
 betrothed. Then she turned deadly pale, and said to 
 Gaines, " I am sick at heart, and shall surely die in ten 
 minutes, if you do not bring me some relief." But after 
 saying this she threw herself so heavily on his breast that 
 he was obliged to remain and support her. 
 
 He called to a gentleman and said, " Dr. Brown is in 
 the house ; seek him out, and bring him as quickly as 
 possible." 
 
 Amid the senseless confusion that usually waits on such 
 scenes, he left for this purpose. Leaning over, he touched 
 the doctor on the shoulder : " Come, come quickly ! 'tis 
 thought Miss Lindsay's about to die." 
 
 Murray heard it all, and saw it all, but he was too well 
 posted up in Gertrude's peculiarities not to understand. 
 He had witnessed her inimitable acting before ; therefore, 
 not a muscle of his face moved, not a fiber of his frame 
 quivered, not even a pulse of that naturally warm heart 
 beat the quicker when he heard that alarming announce- 
 ment. 
 
 The kind little, bustling doctor whispered a few hur- 
 ried words to Minny, saying as he rose, " I will return 
 as soon as possible." On perceiving Col. Murray, he 
 exclaimed, " God bless me, Conrad ! how glad I am to see 
 you. 'Tis most opportune. There, take my seat and 
 guard those la " — — He was jerked away without hav- 
 ing time to finish the sentence. 
 
 When Murray had taken his place by Minny, on the 
 front seat, he saw Gertrude carried from the house in the 
 arms of Mr. Gaines, but without one pang of envy or 
 jealousy. 
 
 The play proceeds. The next act develops more 
 fully the treachery of Gesler. The noble Swiss is offered 
 an alternative, a chance of life, by jeopardizing that of 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 203 
 
 his son — shooting an apple from the head of his darling 
 boy. But we presume, dear reader, that you and every- 
 body are acquainted with this thrilling story. 
 
 Murray, on turning to look at the lady at his side, meets 
 a pair of ingenuous grey eyes, and a beaming smile ; she 
 thus acknowledging his kindness without the slightest 
 embarrassment, or showing any feeling of distrust, or other 
 emotion, save that of gratitude for his implied protection. 
 How bewitching is this naive, simple trustfulness. He 
 bowed to this look, and there was a tacit acquaintance 
 established between them. Eut the arbitrary laws of soci- 
 ety precluded the admissibility of his addressing a word 
 to her, as they had not been introduced. 
 
 His attention was now attracted to the other lady, who 
 seemed to be almost choking with suppressed sobs. 
 
 The girl at her side looked troubled, and said, " Aweel, 
 aweel ; now deary, dinna be alarmed, we are not alone. 
 The doctor left us in charge of his friend, Col. Murray : 
 as he called him before he left." 
 
 At that name, a wild thrill ran through her frame, and 
 she felt as if she must shriek out, and echo it. or die. 
 A brawny but tremulous hand passed a glass of water. 
 Murray received it, and as he raised his eyes to thank the 
 person, he met those of the honest Kight Watch. His 
 paleness was corpse-like. 
 
 Minny laid her little hand on his arm, and said in a 
 whisper, " Come, Murdoch, be a man ; dinna take on sae, 
 my gude Murdoch." 
 
 The curtain again rises. Albert is stationed with the 
 apple on his head ; Tell has drawn the bow ; the arrow is 
 sped. There is a stifled shriek, then all is still again. 
 The apple falls, and the child is safe, and locked in the 
 arms of his father. 
 
 In the roar of acclamation, that stifled shriek is for- 
 gotten by all save two persons. Even Minny has ceased 
 to think of it ; but it rung long in the ears of the humble 
 
204 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 ISTight "Watch, and haunted the memory of the haughty 
 Murray like a troubled dream. 
 
 They were leaving the house as speedily as possible, 
 when Murdoch touched Murray and said, " Don't hurry, 
 Colonel, wait a moment in the lobby. Mind what I say, 
 sir, do not hurry ! " 
 
 Murray had placed himself between the two ladies ; but 
 the fingers of the veiled figure scarce touched his arm, 
 though he could feel that she trembled. Lest the little hand 
 which hung so loosely should fall away, and its owner be 
 wheeled off in that rushing crowd, he reached under his 
 cloak, took hold of it, and attempted to draw it forward. 
 Oh ! what a start ! The hand quivered like something 
 alive in his grasp. Then he felt her form hang heavily 
 on his arm. And thus it was that he had forgotten the 
 good Murdoch's warning injunction. 
 
 They had now arrived before some untenanted houses, 
 which were each divided by a dark alley. Those build- 
 ings were tall, and the shadows cast from them were deep 
 and dark. Just as Murray felt the lady fall on his arm 
 like a dead weight, six masked figures rushed out from 
 those dark alleys and surrounded the little party. In the 
 twinkling of an eye their mouths were stopped. Three 
 men seized Col. Murray, but with the strength of a Her- 
 cules, he wrenched his arms loose, as the men were try- 
 ing to tie his hands behind him, and dealing right and 
 left such blows with his clenched fist as you might sup- 
 pose Vulcan did with his sledge-hammer, he had in a few 
 seconds laid two men at his feet ; then as the third meas- 
 ured his length on the pavement, a fourth drew his knife, 
 and slipping up, thrust it into his side. 
 
 "O God! where is Murdoch?" and he fell heavily 
 across the prostrate bodies, with a deep groan. 
 
 The rattle of the Night Watch is heard, and Murdoch 
 and his myrmidons came running up. All had passed so 
 quickly, and the work of treachery and death had gone 
 
THE N I G H T WATCH. 
 
 205 
 
 on so quietly, that although the guard were concealed at 
 a very short distance, nothing had occurred to give notice 
 of the attack until Murdoch, who had waited for the child 
 as usual to answer to the call of the house, came in sight 
 and sprung the alarm rattle. Then they all started up, 
 as if from the bowels of the earth. 
 
 When they arrived at the spot, they found three men 
 apparently dead, and Murray weltering in his blood. The 
 other three had escaped, fled at the first sound of that 
 dread rattle. Murdoch and his men were a great terror 
 to evil-doers, and he was a tower of strength within him- 
 self. And that rattle — Oh ! that rattle. 
 
 He looks around anxiously, but there is nothing to tell 
 of the existence or non-existence of the two females. He 
 gives the child into the care of one ; utters a few brief, 
 hurried directions to another, about the body of Murray, 
 who had fainted from loss of blood ; and then darts off in 
 an opposite direction. 
 
 Several men take up the lifeless form, and placing it on 
 a litter of old boards, found hard by, they move off. The 
 man who has the child in charge, conveys him to the 
 place designated by Murdoch ; the other is left to guard 
 the fallen assailants until the watch shall rally and remove 
 them to the guard-house. 
 
 No sooner had these two parties separated, and were 
 out of sight, than the three ruffians came to life, sprang 
 to their feet, and seizing the solitary guard pitched him 
 headlong into the gutter, and scampered off. 
 
 "When Johnson, the man entrusted with the child, 
 arrived at the hovel, he found Minny wringing her hands 
 and sending forth such wails as only a little Scotch body 
 could send. The poor old lady ! There she sat ; her eyes 
 closed, her grey hair hanging in tags from under her 
 night-cap, rocking herself furiously, and crying out, 
 
 V I knew it ! I knew it ! I said it would be so. I felt it 
 here and here," touching her head and her heart ; " but you 
 
206 
 
 THE NIGH T W A T C II . 
 
 would not heed the old woman ! She was always willful. 
 Oh ! my lost children ! " 
 
 Minny took the child, who was so much fatigued by the 
 exertions of the evening that he slept soundly, without 
 his little heart being troubled. He knew nothing of what 
 had passed. 
 
 Johnson touched his cap, and said, " Captain Murdoch 
 ordered me to fetch the Doctor," and vanished. 
 
 When Murdoch had started off so unceremoniously, he 
 ran straight in the direction of the Jews' Quarter. On 
 arriving, he plunged into that dark alley, and reaching 
 the dirty little court back of the house, he tries to open 
 the door, but finds it fast. The stars only were shining, 
 yet to one so accustomed to darkness this was sufficient. 
 He looked around for something with which he could force 
 the lock, but not finding anything he clenches that mall 
 fist, and with one blow shivered the boards ; then wrench- 
 ing off the iron bars, he begins to ascend the long winding 
 steps. When he reaches the landing he must also stop to 
 breathe before he is in the room. The little bell had tin- 
 kled but was succeeded so quickly by the entrance of 
 Murdoch, that old Faggot was in the act of bearing the 
 lifeless body of Myra across the room. 
 
 Such was his amazement, such the panic, on seeing Mur- 
 doch (for the Jew would much rather have met face to face 
 Satan himself, just at that moment, than the fierce Night 
 Watch), that he let the delicate form of his victim fall. 
 
 " Wretched ! miserable old man ! Why have you done 
 this? Faggot, if it w T ere not for your sweet daughter's 
 sake ; if it were not that I have loved Leah more dearly 
 than any brother ever loved a sister, I would crush every 
 bone in that old dried skin of yours. As it is I believe 
 I had better kill you at once. Why should such garbage, 
 such vile carrion, be allowed to cumber the earth longer.'* 
 
 The Jew fell on his knees, and clasping his hands 
 together, in the most abject manner whines out, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 207 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh ! Mine goot sir, have mercy on thy 
 servant.'' 
 
 This only inflamed the brave Murdoch, and seizing him 
 by the nape of the neck, he jerked him to his feet, and 
 shook him so furiously that I presume the soul would 
 have been forced from the poor old body in a very short 
 time, had not Leah glided from under those old clothes on 
 the wall. 
 
 Two words of deprecation from those beautiful lips, in 
 that peculiarly silvery voice were enough. " O Mur- 
 doch ! " He slung the Jew from him, across the room, 
 exclaiming, " Why should the strong man crush the 
 worm ? " Then turning to Leah, he beheld her with as 
 much surprise as admiration. Oh ! how lovely she looked ; 
 how transcendently beautiful and bright. He approached 
 her, and entwining his arms around her waist, embraced 
 her tenderly. 
 
 " Leah ! Ah ! my beloved Leah, why have you hid 
 away from me so long ? Do you no longer love your poor 
 Murdoch." 
 
 u Dear Murdoch," said she, in a very hurried voice, not 
 seeming to heed his looks of admiration ; " dear Murdoch, 
 I have come to tell thee, that the accomplices in this out- 
 rage are coming at this moment into the Pandemonium • 
 so thou must hurry off with the lady. For God's sake do 
 not let them find thee here, or / shall be the sufferer." 
 
 She turned to Myra, and kneeling down poured some 
 restoring draught into her mouth, and kissed her ; then 
 she seemed to listen. When springing to her feet she 
 cried, " Away ! away, good friend, I hear them coming." 
 
 He strained that slight, beautiful girl to his rude, 
 manly breast for a second ; then taking Myra up in his 
 arms, like an infant, gave another look of unutterable 
 respect, confidence, and brotherly love to Leah, which 
 she returns tenfold, saying in a low tremulous voice, 
 " Dear, dear Murdoch!" She opened the door, and ho 
 
208 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 commenced descending the steps, as she heard the footfall 
 of many persons in the room adjoining. 
 
 The old Jew now gets up from his crouching attitude, 
 where he had remained w 7 hen falling from Murdoch's 
 hand, and commenced whining, " Oh ! oh ! oh ! It is all 
 gone ; one tousand monish ! five hundred monish ! Oh ! fad- 
 der Abraham ! It is all gone. Oh ! Dat Leah ! dat Leah ! " 
 
 He then appi'oached the girl with a menacing look, and 
 uplifted hand to strike. With the ease and activity of a 
 cat she sprang away from him. He followed her up, and 
 while his mouth froths with impotent rage, and his eyes 
 glare, says : 
 
 " Now may de Got of mine peoplesh curse thee ! May 
 thy mother's spirit curse thee ! May thy bones be broken, 
 and thy flesh rot, and may thou be alive to see it, and feel 
 it, and know it ! May thou be cursed in thy love, and in 
 thy life, and unto thy death ! Thou renegade from thy 
 peoplesh, and de religion of their Got ! The Got of thine 
 Fadders ! " 
 
 She holds up her finger, pointing warningly toward him. 
 
 u Peace ! old man. Thou hast done enough wrong in 
 this world, wrought enough ruin ere now without cursing 
 thy own child ! Go ! go ! I say, father, go to bed — to 
 sleep, aye, to sleep ! Dost thou know aught of that ? Or 
 hast thou too, murdered sleep. Poor old man, I pity thee ! 
 Would that I could help thee, poor father ! " 
 
 The last exclamation was wrung from the heart of the 
 maiden, as her eye fell on the base, craven -looking old 
 man cowering beneath the just indignation of his noble- 
 minded, pure-hearted daughter. It was but an instant, 
 and then the fiend spoke. 
 
 M False ! false thou art, girl, to thy kindred, and to thy 
 peoplesh ! I have seen it ! my own old eyes have beheld 
 thee in de arms of de ISTazarene dog. Leah ! Oh ! mine 
 Got! Leah thou must die ! die de secret death which is the 
 reward of thy apostacy. Dese old eyes have lived to see 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 209 
 
 mine own flesh and blood on de breast of de enemy of thy 
 peoplesh. So thou must die mitin dese secret walls, comely 
 as thou art." 
 
 When she had heard her father pronounce those fearful 
 words, she gave one wild, startled look toward that door 
 which opened into the adjoining room, where now waited 
 the conspirators. Too well did the poor girl know what 
 dreadful deeds of violence had been done, as he said, within 
 these secret walls. But remembering that the slightest 
 symptom of fear would only embolden him to go forward 
 in any atrocity, and that to defy him would avail more than 
 volumes of supplicatory prayers for mercy, she retorted — 
 
 " Do thy worst, old man ! wreak thy foiled vengeance 
 on thy helpless child. But I tell thee, my blood will cry 
 aloud from these walls (secret as thou thinkest them), for 
 that hour of retribution — Oh! my poor father! — the day 
 of reckoning is hastening on for thee." She weeps. "True, 
 I have broken one of the ancient laws of our people ; but 
 this has passed away ; and were it not so, or I did not love 
 this Christian, which I am proud to say I do ; were it not 
 for the influence I have with 'that vile JSTazarene,' as thou 
 dost call that good man, thy own old limbs would be 
 quivering, and jerking, and whirling between heaven and 
 earth at this time. Father," and she approached quite 
 near, "thy daughter whom thou hast cursed so fearfully, 
 has saved thy life three times." 
 
 Then she whispered something in his ear which made 
 him shudder. She looked pityingly at him, and her sweet 
 eyes were full of tears, as she took his hand — that cold 
 damp hand — and kissing it, said : 
 
 " Fear not ! Peace be with thee, poor father ! I am still 
 thy friend ; although thou hast cursed me, and would just 
 now have killed me." 
 
 The old man came cringingly toward her, with his — 
 "Oh, Oh, Oh." But Leah receded from him, and sud- 
 denly disappeared. 
 18 
 
210 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE FALL. 
 
 "One struggle more, and I am free 
 
 From pangs that rend my heart in twain, 
 One last long sigh to love and thee, 
 Then back to busy life again." 
 
 When Murdoch reached the bottom of that long spiral 
 stairway, what with fatigue, want of breath, but above 
 all, excessive agitation, he came very near falling with 
 his precious burden. For the first time in his life, his 
 strength failed him ; so that he was obliged to rest one 
 moment. The cool night air blowing so freshly on Myra's 
 face, and maybe the tremendous blows which that pent-up 
 heart continued to give right under her ear, as he kept 
 her clasped in that maddening embrace, together with 
 the cordial administered by Leah, had revived her. She 
 opened her eyes, and looking frantically around, closed 
 them again, and nestling like a little bird in his bosom, 
 sighs and says — "Dear one, I have found you at last, and 
 am happy." 
 
 Poor Murdoch ! Alas ! poor M urdoch ! think of Leah, 
 dear good Murdoch ! This proud lady clinging so fondly 
 to thee ! so like a tender fledgling resting in thy bosom, 
 is thinking of another. Poor Murdoch ! 
 
 The man is beside himself ; he strains her to his faith- 
 ful, honest bosom; but hearing approaching footsteps, he 
 takes her up in his arms, and passes on. Being now 
 unable to proceed further, he calls a hack, and as he 
 places her in it, finds she has fallen asleep like a child in 
 its mother's arms. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 211 
 
 The motion of the vehicle awakes her, and clinging 
 still more closely to him, she sighs out — " They shall not 
 tear me from you again, my beloved ! We are once more 
 united, and whether there be guilt, or shame, or degrada- 
 tion I care not — I am thine now, throughout time and 
 eternity." 
 
 Poor Murdoch ! It does seem as if he were too severely 
 tried. He believes that last protestation of undying affec- 
 tion is addressed to him ; he thinks it applicable to their 
 peculiar situations. He believes it to be an uncontrollable 
 gush of fervent love, the reward of his own mighty 
 devotion. He again strains her to his heart ; but he is 
 past all utterance. Surprise, rapture, and gratitude have 
 made him mute. 
 
 Again the lady murmurs, and her voice is not louder 
 than the rustle of the zephyr's wing, or the soft sweet 
 note of the fabled bulbul. He inclines his ear to catch 
 the syllables. She, nestling still closer, says : 
 
 " How did you find me out, dear one ? Ah ! yes, I 
 know ; you are always on the alert : you have long been 
 my guardian spirit, my brave, my noble, my worshiped 
 Conrad." 
 
 Murdoch started as if he had been bitten, stung, or 
 pierced to the heart. Had he received the point of a 
 sharp instrument into his heart's core, his whole frame 
 could not have been more suddenly relaxed. His arms 
 dropped lifeless by his side, and he suffered poor Myra to 
 slip from his embrace down to his feet, in the bottom of 
 the carriage. This aroused her from her happy oblivi- 
 ousness, and she began to weep; then followed heart- 
 rending sighs and sobs. 
 
 It was not in the nature of Murdoch to witness suffer- 
 ing without trying to succor. So now he raised the 
 weeping lady, and placing her on the back seat, takes his 
 opposite to her without speaking. Poor Murdoch ! He 
 had been hurled from heaven without any preparation, 
 
212 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C II 
 
 and he felt himself bruised and mangled — nay, crushed 
 by the fall. Poor man ! there had been no little jutting 
 point by the way to break that mighty fall. 
 
 The lady continued to sob, and when the good-hearted 
 Night "Watch essayed to utter a few words of comfort, his 
 voice was so changed that he started himself, and Myra 
 did not recognize it. Presently he succeeded in calming 
 himself, and said, in a cold, curt, rather severe voice : 
 
 " Madam, I beg you will compose yourself, and believe 
 that you have nothing to fear. I have saved you from a 
 den of thieves and ravishers, at the peril of my own life ; 
 and am now conducting you to your child and your 
 friends." 
 
 " Oh ! Murdoch, is it you ? God bless you, good, kind 
 Murdoch. What do I not owe you? " and she caught up 
 his hand and bedewed it with tears of gratitude. 
 
 But Murdoch was' now wide awake. That was a hard 
 fall he had received, he will not dream again. And then 
 dawned on his memory the words Minny had once spoken 
 in such an oracular voice to him. 
 
 " Think not of her, Murdoch. Think not of that proud 
 lady. Would you take to your honest bosom the empty 
 casket, when the gem has gone to enrich that of 
 another?" And then, somehow, his thoughts revert to 
 Leah ; and her beautiful face and graceful form rise up 
 before him. Although the poor fellow had been so 
 bewildered by Myra's presence, that he did not, at the 
 time, perhaps, appreciate her extreme beauty, yet it now 
 came up before his mental vision, perhaps greatly aug- 
 mented by the check he had just received. 
 
 They had arrived at the hovel. Murdoch alights, and 
 handing Myra from the carriage, in the most deferential 
 way opened the door, and she tottered in, falling into the 
 arms of the affectionate Minny. Murdoch jumped into 
 the hack, and bidding the man drive as fast as possible, 
 he leaned from the window, and taking off his cap, bared 
 
THE NIGHT WAT C H , 
 
 213 
 
 his breast to the cold, night wind. After awhile was heard 
 in the distance, that same calm, sonorous voice: " Three 
 o'clock, all's well." 
 
 Myra, when urged by her friends to give them an 
 account of her rescue, can tell of nothing more than her 
 ride home in the hack, and Murdoch's coldness, which 
 seemed to wound her greatly; and then she commenced 
 sobbing again, until she went into hysteria. Minny and 
 the doctor sat by her the whole night. 
 
 When Johnson arrived at Murray's mansion, he found 
 Doctor Brown bustling about over the w T ound as he 
 dressed it. 
 
 "Ah, yes!" said he, in answer to Johnson, "I'll be 
 ready in a minute. This patient will do nicely. I've 
 dressed this wound beautifully; nothing very serious 
 either, thank God ! It would have been too great a pity 
 for this noble fellow to have been put away so slily by 
 such caitiff wretches in the dark. Methinks such a fine 
 fellow should die gloriously on the field of battle, in 
 defense of his country ; or else, in shielding beauty 
 (which he was trying to do, when he got that little love- 
 lick in the side). But still, not by a parcel of pickpockets. 
 Maybe now it might be better, after all, to fall sweetly 
 asleep in the arms of his faithful old wife, after having 
 blessed and made happy two generations or more. What 
 think you, Johnson?" 
 
 " Well, it's hard to say, yer honor. I reckon it's no 
 odds though, how a feller lays hisself down, so he gits 
 up the right way, and then travels the right road when 
 he does git up. I reckon it's no odds at all at all." 
 
 Having given the patient a composing draught, and 
 seeing him fall off to sleep, he takes his way with 
 unwonted alacrity toward the hovel, where we next find 
 him. 
 
214 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXIXI. 
 
 THE COURTSHIP. 
 
 " She that with poetry is won, 
 Is but a desk to write upon ; 
 And what men say of her, they mean 
 No more than on the thing they lean." 
 
 These two good creatures sat there watching the dis- 
 turbed sleep of the unfortunate Myra. Sometimes she 
 raves, then beseeches, and anon commands. Now she 
 calls out in a frantic voice, and brandishing her little 
 hands aloft, cries, 
 
 " No, no ! I never w r ill believe it. Father it is false ! 
 Why did you tell me this cunningly-devised tale, but to 
 w T in me to your purposes? I knew it not, but no matter. 
 I should still have loved him as madly as now. Ah ! 
 "Walter ! I saw the good youth ! I closed my eyes, but I 
 heard the report; yet I saw not the shot." Then her 
 voice would sink into a low breeze-like murmur, and she 
 would contract her body, as if she were trying to creep 
 into some loving bosom. Then she would smile plain- 
 tively, and sigh, and say, "Dear Conrad, I am very happy." 
 
 The old lady slumbered in her chair ; the child slept 
 soundly on his couch. All was still and peaceful. The 
 poor patient has at last sunk to rest. 
 
 Eeader, is it any wonder that the watchers should have 
 hitched their chairs nearer, little by little, until they got to 
 be jammed up as close together as chairs ever do get to be; 
 and that their hands should have been attracted to each 
 other, and that the doctor's lips should have found a very 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 215 
 
 short and easy road to Minny's hand, and a still shorter 
 and quicker one to her lips ; those little, tempting, cherry 
 lips. 
 
 But you may think it strange, and maybe wrong, that 
 Minny was so ingenuous and innocent as not to chide, but 
 just returned kiss for kiss simply, and it maybe only be- 
 cause she saw it gave him pleasure ; still it made her, she 
 did not know wherefore, yery happy. 
 
 Doctor Brown drew a long breath, for he would not 
 have acknowledged to a sigh. Yet he could feel, and sigh, 
 and weep too, for the woes of others ; and little man as he 
 was, he had as big a heart and as great a soul as either 
 Murdoch or Murray ; was also wrought upon by the same 
 passions, yet without the devastating whirlwinds, or the 
 scathing lightning. So then he did really heave a deep, 
 real, bona fide, sigh, and said in a slow and would-be steady 
 voice, 
 
 " Dear, good little Minny, I have many things to say 
 to you, and some questions to ask, which I want you to 
 answer like yourself, with candor and decision. And you 
 see, Minny, we must necessarily converse more familiarly 
 than we have ever done before." 
 
 H Certainly, doctor, if you wish it," said the girl. 
 
 " Ah ! that's it at once. I don't want you to be so for- 
 mal. That c yes, sir,' and ' no, Doctor,' must be thrown aside, 
 and a more familiar, and a — and a — a dearer name sub- 
 stituted. In short, good girl, you would please me much 
 better if you would call me by my Christian name, instead 
 of so much siring, and doctoring, and Browning." 
 
 " Aweel ! I would like it too, but that's a' I ever heard. 
 I dinna ken mair than that. Tell it to me, sir. Let me 
 hear the ither one." 
 
 " True, Minny, I never have told you anything of my 
 family. Now, dear one, I was named for my father, who 
 was named for his father, who was named for Ms father, 
 and so on for such a number of generations that I can 
 
216 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 not count back. And moreover, every one of them save 
 your humble servant, Minny, was born in your own coun- 
 try, and claim noble descent from some lairds, who were 
 descended, a-w-a-y back, from Eob Eoy, and some other 
 big folk." 
 
 Minny could not suppress a merry titter. 
 
 " What are you laughing at, Miss Dun ? " said he, 
 straightening himself back in his chair. 
 
 " Go on, sir ; I could na help it. I was sae joyed to 
 hear you say this." He felt himself mellowed by this 
 lubricating application to his wounded family pride. It 
 was the first time the little man had ever left this, his 
 weakest point, uncovered, and the girl learned in the 
 course of that conversation that he was morbidly sensi- 
 tive on the subject of his lineage. Neither could he abide 
 his plebeian name of Brown. Minny did not like this trait. 
 The good, little, honest soul had no fancy for reflected 
 greatness, and when he commenced again to speak of his 
 ancestors, she struck in : 
 
 " Aweel, now, never mind ony mair about that ; gie us 
 the name. What is the name o' this noble scion o' the 
 McGregors?" 
 
 He looked at her very seriously for a moment, and 
 seemed to be debating with himself whether he should 
 get vexed or not, and his eyes glistened for that length of 
 time ; then they twinkled, and the contracted muscles 
 about the mouth relaxed, and naturally resolved them- 
 selves into a bright smile. And then Minny gave one of 
 her most gleesome laughs, and taking his hand, she put it 
 to her forehead and adds, 
 
 " Aye, and ye can be bright and winsome too, as weel 
 as ony o' them, an' ye will. So now tell us the name." 
 
 " Gabriel," said he. 
 Gramercy ! it's too lang ; Oh, my gude man, I tell ye 
 it's too lang to call ye by every day ; so I'll just call ye 
 Gabe. dear Gabe and gude Gabe, and a' that." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 217 
 
 u That's it, Minny, that's the very idea. I never did 
 meet with anybody before who could read my thoughts, 
 and anticipate my wishes." 
 
 The girl jumped at him,, and just as a wild, playful 
 child would do, imprints three or four kisses on his cheeks 
 and forehead, and running her fingers through his hair, 
 puts it back and kisses him again. 
 
 u There it is! I was just beginning to feel my need of 
 one of them sweet articles, when you tender me three or 
 four," and they laugh hilariously. " After awhile, I shall 
 not know how to get along without you," said he. 
 
 u Now, dear G-abe " but her mouth was closed, and 
 
 there was a smothered sort of a smacking noise, loud 
 enough to disturb the poor patient, who moaned and 
 wept. " Oh ! I am so lonely ! I feel so desolate ! " Then 
 all was still as before. 
 
 Presently the doctor resumed — "I do believe, Minny, 
 I do believe in my heart that I am in love with you ! If 
 it is not that, I do not know then what it is. I somehow 
 feel like I always want to be near you, and certainly do 
 find myself more contented then than at any other time. 
 I always think that you are watching for me, Minny, and 
 that your little face grows brighter when I do come. And, 
 Oh ! Minny, you are every way a dear little thing, and 
 you have, I do know, the sweetest little mouth." 
 
 Then there was the same smacking noise as before, and 
 the girl seems half stifled with something or other, as she 
 tries to say, " Oh ! dear Gabe ! Dear, gude Gabe ! " 
 
 " Now listen to me, Minny. I have something to tell 
 you which will astonish you, no doubt. I never have 
 courted a woman in my life. I am now twenty-eight 
 years old, and if I do not love you, then I never have loved 
 anybody. I believe I shall be happy with you, Minny, 
 and wretched without you. Now, child, you who are so 
 shrewd about most things, tell me, is not this enough to 
 
 19 
 
218 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T C H 
 
 begin with. Come, speak, Minny, don't stop to blush. 
 I'm in haste." 
 
 "Uncanny man that ye are; I have nae thought o' 
 blushing. I was only reflecting like, o'er the subject." 
 
 "Well, don't take time to reflect; I'm all impatience 
 for your decision. I had thought your heart would have 
 answered at once." 
 
 " Aweel now ! did the warld ever hear o' sic a mon ? 
 Wad ye mak me judge and jury too, and have me pass 
 sentence on my ain case ? " 
 
 " Speak, Minny ; speak, child ; I'm in a flame just now." 
 
 " Weel, Gabriel, if the lassie was o' your ain way of 
 thinking, and happened to be a leettle bit blinded wi' luve 
 for Mr. Gabriel Brown, of the stock o' the Bob "Roys, then 
 I should say that that would be sufficient." 
 
 The little man started to his feet, and looked at Minny 
 with amazement ; then seating himself, with a sigh said, 
 " Miss Dun, in what way am I to understand your 
 words?" 
 
 "In the right way, I trust, doctor." 
 
 " Am I to believe that I have thrown away my affection 
 on you ? That — that — that I have squandered " 
 
 "That's just as ye happen to think o' me. That de- 
 pends on your ain opinion of me, doctor." 
 
 "O Minny! have I garnered up my heart's treasures 
 in this pretty little casket, only to have them thrown out 
 by such a careless hand?" 
 
 She did not speak. 
 
 " Minny, I thought you loved me even as well as I do 
 you. I believed, when you suffered me to kiss your sweet 
 mouth, and returned it so heartily, that this was the sanc- 
 tion and seal of the tacit compact between ns. Miss Dun, 
 do ladies kiss and suffer themselves to be kissed, and mean 
 nothing by it ? Do they ? I have no fancy for romance 
 in real life. I thought we would glide along smoothly, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 219 
 
 without provoking the fates. What did yon mean, Miss 
 Dun, by thus leading me on to commit and to make as great 
 a fool of myself as any school-boy? " 
 
 He looks so distressed and ludicrously wretched that 
 the girl could hold out no longer. Then she laughed and 
 cried, and threw her arms around his neck and said — 
 but she could not say it for some time, so carried away 
 was she by this mirthful mood, " Dear, dear Gabe, I was 
 only trying you. You seemed a leettle bit too confident, 
 too secure ; but I believe it'll do. I think your account 
 o' yourself will be sufficient." 
 
 It was agreed upon then, and they became engaged ; 
 the doctor stipulating that as soon as all parties were well 
 again, that they would marry " each other." After this, 
 they talked of their feelings, the rise and progress of the 
 same in their souls. Then a calm succeeded, and there 
 they sat, with clasped hands, listening to the beating of 
 each other's hearts, and the low breathing of the patient. 
 
 Presently, Minny got to narrating her own history : how 
 she was born on Lord Dalkeith's estate in old Scotland, 
 her father having been that gentleman's stew T ard ; how 
 she had been induced, after the death of her parent, to 
 come to America, and had finally concluded to settle down 
 in peace and independence in the little toy-shop ; on the 
 beatitude of which mode of life she expatiated warmly. 
 
 Seeing a smile on the doctor's face, she exclaims with 
 animation — " Aweel, now, ye may smile an ye will, but 
 there is something right pleasant in being 1 monarch of 
 all I survey,' even though that be a little toy-shop and 
 sma' back room, and a crust o' bread, but always with 
 sunshine in the heart and a gude fire on the hearth. 
 You need na laugh sae, dear Gabe." 
 
 " Go on, Minny ; go on, child, I love to hear you talk ; 
 indeed I do." 
 
 " I have four little rooms to my house ; the front room 
 is the store and hall, the back one is my parlor, and some- 
 
220 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 times kitchen. It is always a comfortable place for raj 
 grandmother, who is more contented than mony a lady in 
 her palace." 
 
 " True, most true. I know a case in point. Poor old 
 Mrs. Murray." 
 
 Minny continued her narrative — " One of the upper 
 rooms I have loaned to a widow. Poor Lucy May has 
 seen better days. She has had, I think, the misfortune at 
 some time to offend against society, and was perhaps 
 thrust out. She, poor thing, now hides away from an 
 intolerant and doubtless a more sinning world than her- 
 self. I know not what her fault was, I care not what her 
 career has been : I have nothing to do with that. It is 
 the present and the future with which I have to deal. I 
 know that her life is blameless now, and I think her heart 
 is right, being full of love to God. I have helped her as 
 best I could with my little means, in every way that was 
 open to me; and now I am reaping my reward. I could 
 na have gone wi' you to-night, clear Gabe, to see that 
 sweet play, I could na be sitting here wi' poor, dear Myra 
 now, if my gude Lucy May were not there to tak' my 
 place by my helpless grandmither." 
 
 " What do you get a month, Minny ? " 
 
 " I do not rent it. I mak' nae charge. She helps me 
 about many things since she has recovered her health." 
 
 " Good heavens ! You don't tell me you had to take 
 charge of a sick woman. Poor, dear little thing ! How 
 could you accomplish this ? " 
 
 " Oh, very week What merit wad there be in doing a 
 gude deed, if it cost nothing ? All things were added, 
 and I found every day, that the way was opened by which 
 I somehow obtained the necessary supplies for the poor 
 sufferer." 
 
 " How, dear Minny ? In what way were they furnished ? " 
 " Oh, in many ways, too tedious to mention. God's is 
 a vast storehouse ! It never gives out." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 221 
 
 " Well, child, I do believe you are an angel of mercy, 
 sent here to do such things ; and that's the upshot of the 
 whole — only you are the prettiest and best among 
 them all. 
 
 "But, Minny, my dear," — the Doctor had learned to 
 transpose the words ; it used to be " My dear Minny " — 
 " Now, Minny, my dear, you said, I think, that this poor 
 Lucy May was, or had been an outcast from society. For 
 what offense was it ? " 
 
 " I told you I did not know. I do not wish to know. 
 The subject has never been brought up between us, and 
 never shall be, unless she introduces it, and thinks it will 
 relieve her heavy heart to talk." 
 
 " But, Minny, I do not think I approve of my little wife 
 being on quite such familiar terms with an outcast." 
 
 u Doctor Brown, sorry am I that ye hae spoken that 
 word. I dinna exactly ken yet, but I hardly think I do 
 luve you just quite as weel as I did." 
 
 " But you see my motive, my dear little girl. I think 
 my Minny is as pure as any of those bright ones, who 
 continually do shine around the ' Great White Throne ; ' 
 therefore she should not come in contact with infamy." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! ye should na judge. Ye dinna ken your ain 
 heart ; then how can you judge of anither's. Christ has 
 said, that the angels (whom ye talk sae much about, and 
 ken sa little) do rejoice more over one repentant sinner, 
 than over ninety and nine just persons. And ye know, if 
 ye were your ain seF a good shepherd, and did one o' 
 your nock go astray, ye wad leave all, and go in pursuit 
 o' him that was lost. So you see, Gabriel, God careth for 
 these stray lambs. Now, dear one, do ye hope ever to 
 get to heaven ? " 
 
 " To be sure I do, Minny. Everybody has that hope in 
 some shape or other." 
 
 " Then dinna ye ken, that heaven will be full o' repentant 
 sinners ? The Saviour loved sinners, you know, my friend, 
 
222 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 more than ye can ever love wife, or child, or ony other 
 thing." 
 
 u Ah ! I give it up, darling. I give it all- up. You have 
 converted me. I am all sorts of a proselyte to any creed 
 you may choose to hold and declare. I do believe you 
 can give a reason for everything that you may do and 
 believe, which would be satisfactory to God himself." 
 
 " Ah ! God is not half so hard on us as we are on each 
 ither. I would rather fall into the hands o' the living 
 God than into those o' my fellow worms." 
 
THE N I G H T W A T C H . 
 
 223 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 THE OLD JEW'S family. 
 
 "Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, 
 senses, affections, passions ? Fed with the same food, hurt with the 
 same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same 
 means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a 
 Christian ? " 
 
 It will be remembered when Gertrude Lindsay entered 
 the room of the Jew, that Leah suddenly disappeared. 
 The girl lingered, with her ear to the wall, until she had 
 heard all that passed between the proud beauty and her 
 instrument of crime, poor Leah's father. She also learned 
 from what the little black child said, the condition of the 
 family in the hovel, and was confirmed in her surmises, 
 that their nefarious designs were now to be put in opera- 
 tion against its inmates. In the interview between the 
 little slave and the old man, the whole plot was made 
 known ; and as quickly did Leah form her plans to 
 forestall and overthrow it. 
 
 This poor girl, almost from her infancy, had been com- 
 pelled to live and act that despicable thing, a spy, an 
 eaves-dropper. She had been trained to it by her mother, 
 who was in all things honest and high-minded ; and she 
 believed, conscientiously, that the motive with the end in 
 view, would sanctify the means and ennoble the deed. 
 To watch, listen, and prevent harm ; forestall and hinder 
 crime ; to redress wrongs and protect innocence, had been 
 the life-time work of poor Eachel, the mother of Leah, 
 and wife of Nathan, the Jew merchant. This marriage 
 had been one of family expediency ; the parties having in 
 
224 
 
 T HE N I G H T W A T C II . 
 
 view the combining and consolidating* their forces against 
 the Christian. 
 
 I know that this sort of rancor between the children of 
 Israel and the Gentile world, has, in a great measure, 
 subsided ; and if their condition is ameliorated, and the 
 contempt in which they were held has given place to 
 better feelings, we shall ascribe it to the mild and just 
 laws of our glorious Republic, which holds out the same 
 immunities, and affords the same protection to the alien 
 as to her own children. But then, I ask, if that instinc- 
 tive distrust of the Jew, the contempt felt for their pur- 
 suits, the scorn for their characteristic servility, and 
 above all, their unholy love of money, their usurious exac- 
 tions from the necessities of all who may chance to fall in 
 their way, do not now, as ever, move the worst disposi- 
 tions of our nature tow^ard them? Besides, the place 
 where we have seen fit to locate our " dramatis persona" 
 is one which has retained many more of the primitive 
 usages as well as national traits of this migratory people 
 than any other one, perhaps, in our country. 
 
 But to our story : this match had been arranged with- 
 out the mutual consent of the parties, for the common 
 weal of the confederacy established in the Jews' Quarter 
 of the city of , and for the private injury of her citi- 
 zens. Poor Rachel had never felt any other emotion than 
 fear and dislike toward the creeping, cringing thing she 
 was forced to marry ; and from that time to the end of 
 her life, she swerved not from the course she had marked 
 out for herself. She had no enjoyments, no recreations. 
 She sought none ; her whole being seemed absorbed in 
 doing good and thwarting evil. She was, therefore, as I 
 have said, a secret spy on her household. The amount 
 of misery which she prevented — the sufferings she had 
 relieved — must be her extenuation for this breach of 
 conjugal faith. The poor, isolated woman feit herself 
 justified in the sight of her Creator; and as to his crea- 
 
 * 
 
THE N T G H T W A T C IT . 
 
 225 
 
 tures, she had nothing to do with their approval or con- 
 demnation. The fiendish passions and pursuits of her 
 husband, the contracted minds and petty superstitions of 
 her people, together with the scorn in which they were 
 held, had made her what she was — a prisoner within the 
 wails of that dismal old brick house. 
 
 In dying she bequeathed her office to her daughter, 
 Leah — initiating her into the dark mysteries of her 
 father's character, and also into many a secret of the 
 house, its gloomy passages, rooms, walls, etc. Many a 
 hidden stairway, secret corridor and cunning device, had 
 been planned by Rachel, of which her husband had no 
 knowledge. Leah now was entrusted with the keys, 
 and made the unseen mover of all the secret springs. 
 
 Not so with her other daughter, Hagar ; the mother 
 had no confidence in this child. 
 
 There never had been any congeniality of feeling 
 between the two sisters ; but Leah, like her mother, 
 mourned over her depravity, and many times had stood 
 between this neophyte in vice, and her hard-hearted 
 father : acting as mediator, only to receive, as recom- 
 pense, treachery and hatred. 
 
 Murdoch, the Night Watch, had known this family from 
 boyhood ; and, until old Faggot had become so grovel- 
 ing, by the indulgence of that soul -killing passion, had 
 been in the habit of paying them frequent visits. While 
 his wife lived, there was none of that loathsome affecta- 
 tion of poverty about the husband. The miser he was, 
 but on a more enlarged scale ; and numberless petty 
 meannesses were concealed from the high-minded Eachel, 
 else would she have spurned him as a worthless cur-dog. 
 The one redeeming trait, the one human feeling which 
 avarice had left in that little murky soul, was intense 
 animal affection, and boundless admiration for his wife. 
 
 When this poor lady found that the sands of life were so 
 near run out she dispatched Leah after Murdoch. When 
 
226 
 
 T HE N I G H T WAT C H . 
 
 he came, he approached the bedside of his dying friend 
 with a bowed head and broken heart. She had been almost 
 the only friend the youth had ever known. She had assisted 
 him in all ways; sometimes by loans of money, or presents 
 of clothing ; in short, she was his benefactress. She had 
 afforded him the facilities of getting an education sufficient 
 to enable him to embrace any reputable calling, either in 
 the mechanic arts, or in commerce. But he had no 
 patrons who could or would help him on to promotion. 
 He, therefore, became what we have seen, the guardian 
 of the downy or thorny pillows, as the case may be, of 
 the luxurious and wealthy citizens of the city of . 
 
 The " Night Watch" was an orphan, the offspring of a 
 Jew father and Christian mother. This alliance (pro- 
 hibited in the synagogue) brought much sorrow and 
 annoyance to the parties ; but it was a match of affection; 
 so they endured all things patiently unto the end. Both 
 parents died suddenly; the last induced by grief for the 
 loss of the first. After this, Murdoch became almost an 
 inmate of the house of Mrs. Nathan ; having been con- 
 signed to her care by his dying mother. 
 
 He had by nature ardent feelings ; an idolatrous love 
 for the beautiful (female beauty) was the first sensation 
 which made itself comprehensible to his young mind. 
 Mrs. Nathan was exceedingly beautiful and fascinating ; 
 and the boy, youth, and man, had accustomed himself to 
 look up to her as a superior being. His feelings for her 
 were those of adoration. Eachel saw this with regret ; 
 but hoped he would transfer this affection, with some 
 mitigation, to her second self, her daughter Leah. But as 
 yet she had witnessed nothing to encourage her. She had 
 not seen one look of admiration, or one demonstration of 
 regard other than such as would move the pure heart of a 
 brother toward a good, gentle little sister. He loved Mrs. 
 Nathan, who was still a very young woman, and for the 
 present, this passion was sufficient to fill all the interstices 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 227 
 
 of his huge heart. Leah, she knew, would be beautiful 
 when matured ; she had also seen, for some time, that her 
 child loved the orphan boy with all the fervor and 
 enthusiasm which belonged to her oriental blood. 
 
 Rachel had studied the temper and heart of her foster 
 son ; maybe to check the unholy passion she saw there 
 for herself ; maybe for something else; but she learned 
 that much of his devotion was induced by the mystery 
 thrown around her, and that it was strengthened by the 
 insuperable barrier between them, preventing his too 
 v close approximation. She knew also, that familiarity and 
 easy access, would interrupt the growth of love on his 
 part; while that of poor Leah would expand and ripen to 
 her own detriment. Hence the solemn injunction which 
 is presently laid upon the girl. 
 
 When Murdoch drew near, and found that death had 
 set his signet on that noble countenance, he threw himself 
 on his knees, and for a few moments indulged the wildest 
 grief. The patient, feeling that her sands were numbered, 
 looked at him with a face full of anxiety. She placed the 
 hand of Leah within his, and with a look of ineffable 
 love, faintly whispered — u May the blessings of the God 
 of our people be upon you and abide with you, my 
 children ! " 
 
 Murdoch rushed from the room. When the mother and 
 daughter were left alone, she made Leah comprehend 
 that she had something of importance still to say, and 
 asked for an exciting potion. After she had swallowed it, 
 the feeble ray of life gleamed up for a moment, and 
 raising herself, she said in a low whisper, 
 
 M Come hither, child. Now listen carefully. Leah, you 
 have never disobeyed me during your life ? " She paused 
 for an answer. 
 
 The girl fell on her knees, and sobbed out, " O my 
 mother! how could I? Thou never didst do wrong." 
 
228 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Then, my love, promise me without question* that you 
 will obey my dying injunction." 
 
 " With my life will I obey thee, my sainted mother." 
 
 " You will, Leah, from this hour, veil yourself closely, 
 and never at any time, or under any circumstances, suffer 
 the good Murdoch to look upon your features ; or caress 
 you, or even touch your hand ; but hide your face from 
 him, and envelop yourself in profound mystery for the 
 space of three years; not abating one moment of the time. 
 It is half past eleven o'clock. Three years from this 
 moment, my beloved and dutiful child, you shall be 
 absolved from this oath ; and your mother's spirit will 
 hover near you to do you good. Eemember the hour and 
 the moment. My daughter, spare your father's grey hairs, 
 and as much as in you lies, smooth his passage to the 
 grave. Now call him and your sister ; but first embrace 
 me, my love." 
 
 When the husband and child came in, she took an affec- 
 tionate, but calm leave of them ; folded her arms, closed 
 her eyes, and fell asleep, not in Jesus, I presume — for 
 this promise is only to Christians — but that pure soul 
 winged its way back to him who gave it, and has I hope 
 found a resting-place in father Abraham's bosom. 
 
 This has been a tedious digression ; but we deemed it 
 necessary, in order to explain and extenuate the seeming 
 infatuation of the gentle and refined Leah for the appa- 
 rently rough-natured Murdoch. 
 
 The girl, as has been before stated, remained with her 
 ear to the wall until she had learned all she wished ; then 
 she stole softly to her room, enveloped herself closely in 
 her wrappings, and returning sat down near the same spot 
 until her father should leave the house. She heard his 
 soliloquy, wherein he had accused her of treachery ; she 
 also heard him touch the counter-spring (as he called it) 
 and chuckle over the thought, that he had put it beyond 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 229 
 
 her power to thwart his diabolical enterprise. All this 
 she did not regard, but she was in agony lest she should 
 be foiled in her efforts to meet Murdoch in time to make 
 him set the watch near the hovel. 
 
 While she sat on the floor, her head against the panel, 
 she heard her father exclaim ; " Oh, oh, oh ! It is just 
 three years dis day sence my poor, dear Kachel was 
 gathered to her peoplesh ; " and she could hear him beat 
 his breast. 
 
 The girl commenced a rapid computation of time, and 
 finding it was even as the old man said, drojyped her head 
 on her breast, and wept in silence. 
 
 The miser at last leaves the room ; then Leah also stole 
 out, taking her way toward the covered bridge: w T here 
 she waited full an hour before Murdoch made his appear- 
 ance, in company, as has been stated, with Col. Murray. 
 
 When they had again sought the bridge, she revealed 
 to him as succinctly as she could, the discovered plot, w^ith 
 her intention to save the poor lady and her family. 
 
 " Now, dear Murdoch, thou hast not, I hope, forgotten 
 the road to our house ? Thou knowest the way to the 
 spiral steps, then force the door, if it be fast, and enter 
 quickly. I will see thee by twelve o'clock, but not before 
 half past eleven." 
 
 When he would have taken her to his manly, affection- 
 ate bosom, she stepped aside, eluding him, as she had 
 never failed to do for three years, and said, " The time 
 will soon come, Murdoch ; my probation will end in a few 
 hours, then I can without sin suffer myself to be folded to 
 the breast of my foster brother, as in my childhood. 
 
230 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH, 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE GOOD WIFE. 
 
 " How few, like thee, inquire the wretched out, 
 And court the offices of soft humanity ! 
 Like thee, reserve their raiment for the naked, 
 Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan, 
 Or mix the pitying tear with those that weep/' 
 
 Dear, sensible, and I hope obliging reader, let your 
 imagination spread her wings, and with me keep pace 
 with the old scythe-man for one year, including the alter- 
 nations of time and season. Another winter has come 
 and gone, without any of the traces which the stern hoary- 
 headed traveler usually leaves in the track of his ruthless 
 strides. There were changes, but not such as are painful 
 to contemplate or recount. 
 
 Good Doctor Brown and dear little Minny are married. 
 They live together most happily in a pretty cottage with 
 charming verandahs. The aged grandam, as we were 
 ever pleased to hear the little woman call her, is installed 
 in one of the best rooms. All the familiar objects which 
 had made that little old back room so agreeable to her, 
 everything she prized, whether for association or con- 
 venience, had been transferred to this room; so that the j 
 old lady scarce felt the change. Her milk-white hair 
 reposes as smoothly beneath the little snowy cap as ever; 
 her fine cambric kerchief is folded as primly over the sil- 
 ver-grey luster dress as for the last fifty years, and she j 
 herself is just as happy and querulous as when we met 
 her first. That good little granddaughter has so smoothed ! 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 231 
 
 the declivity that the gentle downward passage is not 
 felt. 
 
 Minny is looking prettier and somewhat stouter, is as 
 ever full of kind feelings and active benevolence. She is 
 always on the qui vive to do somebody some good. Day 
 by day her face beams with happiness, and she as regu- 
 larly sends up a fervent prayer of gratitude to God for 
 the means afforded her to manifest her love to His crea- 
 tures. And Gabriel, "dear Gabe," is he happy? Can 
 you doubt it ? Let that elastic step, as he bounds along 
 on his way, fulfilling . his professional duties, answer. 
 That fresh, hale countenance, that calm, untroubled, blue 
 eye, twinkling and merry, that genial smile, what tale do 
 they tell ? And then that nicely brushed black coat, the 
 snowy plaits of the shirt bosom ; but above all, those 
 much improved sandy locks, which a year ago were so 
 carroty and elfin, do they not testify to the presence of 
 some busy, thrifty, loving little body? Ah yes ! w^ould 
 that the world were full of little Minny s, for the sake of 
 all forlorn little Gabriels. 
 
 The girl has carried her own sunshine into that house, 
 as she does everywhere. Whenever she appears, dark 
 places become luminous, and crooked ways straight. O 
 Minny, thou art a second little Dot, and when we have 
 said this, we can pronounce no higher praise. Like Dot, 
 Minny has a little baby, and "just like its father," all the 
 clever ones exclaim, as from time immemorial. But this 
 time, as generally, the verdict is false ; for the little baby 
 girl, the little Myra, is just like her pretty little mother. 
 
 When Minny was married, and left her humble home 
 to occupy a better one, she installed Lucy May in 
 the toy-shop, placing with her for company and assist- 
 ance an orphan child, whom she had found weeping 
 in the street on her wedding day, as she passed from 
 church to her new home. So she commemorated this 
 
232 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 event by an action which, if angels are permitted to review 
 scenes in this world, must have caused joy in heaven. 
 
 They were dashing on in a very fine " turn out," accom- 
 panied by a few of the Doctor's particular friends, when 
 Minny descried a child in the street, who looked lonely 
 and miserable. She instantly pulled the check-string, 
 and with much earnestness explained to her husband that 
 she wished to alight for a moment, that she might speak 
 to the child. Gabriel's face flushed, and looking up at his 
 friends he could see that they were surprised, and he 
 thought he detected a smile of derision on their fashiona- 
 ble faces ; therefore the sensitive little man commenced a 
 remonstrance. 
 
 " Ah hist ! dinna fash ! dinna fash ! I will not detain 
 ye lang ; but I must speak to the puir suffering bairn." 
 
 He was about to utter a rejoinder, when she put her 
 mouth to the trumpet and ordered the coachman to stop 
 and open the door. Then with the most bewitching 
 naivete, said, " Ah Gabe ! I know ye too well ! Ye wad 
 na see the puir little chiel perish in the street, amang the 
 gay and grand folks, on your happy wedding day." 
 
 He said no more, but jumped out and handed his wife 
 from the carriage. The child at the time could give no 
 account of herself. She was sick ; a fever raged in her 
 blood, and she seemed stupified from pain. Doctor Brown 
 saw that she would indeed die if left there. At Minny's 
 request, he lifted her into the carriage, and they drove on. 
 
 They nursed the sick child through a long and severe 
 illness. When she had entirely recovered she was placed 
 as stated, with Lucy May. They had adopted and given 
 her their name — they called her Jennie Brown. 
 
 Minny, with the sanction of the Doctor, invited Myra 
 and her grandmother to live with them. 
 
 "No, no, Minny," said the old lady, " God only knows 
 how T much I do thank you, child ! But best not ; I should 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 233 
 
 die of idleness, I think it would go hard with me, now, 
 to sit down and hold my hands in a friend's house. Let 
 us have a place of our own, even if it is a shanty" 
 
 Minny comprehended fully the feeling, and urged them 
 no further. On their way home she was sad and silent ; 
 then rousing up she said, u Aweel, dear husband, I dinna 
 think I can ever sleep mair in my nice bonny home, while 
 puir Myra an' the auld lady are in sic a place. They 
 must be better fixed, else I shall sleep wi' my een wide 
 open, all my days. Choose now, gude man, atween 
 the twa." 
 
 The Doctor laughed, and came near forgetting himself 
 so far as to embrace his little wife on the street. 
 
 Just then the Jew came walking up — not creeping : 
 M Good morning, sir, said the Doctor. " Is any one occu- 
 pying that neat, cottage-looking house, over the way, 
 yonder? " 
 
 u Which one?" said Mr. Nathan, the Jew clothing 
 merchant. 
 
 tl The one with latticed windows." 
 
 "No, der is nobody living dere, now." 
 
 " When is your rent due from Mrs. Wise." 
 
 " It is due now, dis very hour. I is on my way dere 
 to git it." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Nathan, propose to Mrs. Wise to take the 
 cottage." 
 
 u Oh ! oh ! mine Got ! It is too much more monish dan 
 she will be able to pay me." 
 
 " Never mind that, sir. Do as I have requested; and 
 when her means fail, I will make up the deficit." 
 
 In an instant he whipped out a little ink-horn from his 
 pocket, and a scrap of paper, saying, " Write, w r rite." 
 The Doctor gave him the note, and passed on. 
 
 The next day saw Minny as busy as the busiest of all 
 busy things — a hen with one chicken — arranging the cot- 
 tage for her friends. The day after sees them domiciled 
 20 
 
234 
 
 T H E NIGH T W A T C H 
 
 as if they had lived there all their lives. Thanks now 
 to little Minny Brown. 
 
 Clarence is charmed with the exchange. His salary, 
 and the donations to him from the patrons of the drama, 
 have all been given as glad offerings to his mother and 
 grandmother. His little heart swells with pride, and feels 
 too big for his little body, when he thinks that he sup- 
 ports his parents — " his family" 
 
 The golden-haired, sunny-faced, beautiful boy has grown 
 some, and is greatly improved. Mr. Gooch has watched 
 over and guarded him, as if he were the apple of his eye. 
 
 Col. Murray lingered long in his sick room, vacillating 
 between life and death. A fever succeeded to the disas- 
 trous events of that night; not so much from the wound, 
 as the disordered state of his nervous system, and the dis- 
 tracted state of his mind. The wild hopes which he had 
 for one brief half-hour suffered to spring up in his breast, 
 with their sudden overthrow, were more than his excita- 
 ble nature could endure. There were many alternations, 
 and it was a matter of great uncertainty whether he 
 would ever arise from that bed ; or if he did, whether his 
 mind would recover its equipoise. 
 
 To-day he has awakened from a long obliviousness. 
 Looking around, for the first time for many weary months, 
 he seems to be conscious of what is passing in the room. 
 He speaks very feebly : 
 
 "James, where is my daughter?" 
 
 " Oh ! thank God, master ! I am so rejoiced to see you 
 sensible once more. I thank the Lord for that, anvhow;" 
 and the negro began to weep. 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to you, James, my good boy ; 
 but I hope you do not expect or require me to cry, 
 too?" 
 
 " Lor ! no, sir; but we never did expect to see you look 
 
THE NIG H T WATCH. 235 
 
 so natural-like and sensible any more. So I couldn't help 
 crying for joy. Hope you will excuse the liberty, Mas'r 
 Charles?" 
 
 " Certainly. But James, who has been here during my 
 illness?" 
 
 " Oh, Lors a marcy ! everybody on God's yarth." 
 
 " That will do, James. Go and tell Tivvy to come in 
 and brinfir the child." 
 
 When the little Genevieve came, she seemed to under- 
 stand at a glance that her father w r as better. She clapped 
 her hands and shouted, and sprang upon the bed, and 
 literally stopped his breath with caresses. 
 
 " Oh ! dear, dear papa ! we thought you were going to 
 die, and papa, that pretty lady " 
 
 " Hush," said Tivvy ; and he saw the maid squeeze the 
 child's arm. 
 
 " Poor cousin Gerty cried her eyes out, when that 
 pretty la " 
 
 "Come, honey, let's go," said Tivvy, taking up the 
 child. 
 
 " Put her down," said Murray. "Go on, daughter; 
 what is it? " 
 
 "Papa, I think you ought to love cousin Gcrtudc." 
 "What for, my love?" 
 
 " Because she loves you so much, and grandma says 
 she is s-o r-i-c-h. Papa please marry cousin Gerty," said 
 she, kissing her father. "Won't you, dear papa ? " 
 
 " Do you want papa to marry her, my darling? " 
 
 " I don't know ; I reckon so." 
 
 Then she put her little ruby lips to his ear, and whis- 
 pered very softly : " Tivvy says, cousin Gertrude is almost 
 dead to marry you, and that she will die soon, if you don't 
 let her." 
 
 Murray gave Tivvy a black look, and continued to 
 frown. The child tried to wipe off with her handker- 
 
236 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 chief, those disfiguring signs of vexation, while Tivvy, in 
 great embarrassment and some alarm, adds : 
 
 "Lors ! Now, Miss Yevy, I didn't do no sich a thing, 
 now." 
 
 "You did# Tivvy. I heard you tell uncle Jim so; and 
 you said you knew it, ^ecause she used to steal in here, 
 when papa w^s out of his senses, and kiss him, and kneel 
 down by him, and cry, and all that." 
 
 " That will do", my love ; come run away to the gov- 
 erness. Tivv}^, I wish to speak to you, and when you 
 have carried the child, return immediately ." 
 
 Tivvy locked worried. " Lor ! Mas'r Conrad, what 
 does you wa*nt? I'm so busy; won't Jim do? " 
 
 " Tivvy, you have forgotten yourself. Do you dare 
 debate whether you will obey me or not? " 
 
 "No, 'sir-," said the maid; and taking up the child, hur- 
 ried out. * * 
 
 " When they had gone, Murray sighed and exclaimed.,, 
 " Poor Gertrude ! I wish to God I could provoke her to 
 discard me. I would very meekly submit to the sentence 
 of banishment. Aye ! most gladly ; but think of it, she 
 is a most magnificent creature ! Well, the truth is, I do 
 believe I am a brute, as my mother once said." This con- 
 demnatory soliloquy was interrupted by the return of 
 Tivvy. 
 
 " Take that seat there, right before me ; now tell me, 
 Tivvy, if you can lie as adroitly as ever?" 
 
 The girl was so astonished at being made to sit in the 
 presence of her master, and so frightened by his lowering 
 looks, that* she did not really hear, see, or heed. So 
 when Murray repeated that question, she answered, with 
 vacant stare, 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " So I presume. Are you sure you have not improved 
 by practice?" 
 
THE N I Gr H T W A T C I I . 
 
 237 
 
 u O Lors ! Mas'r Charlie, I aint hard a word you said." 
 M I asked you if you could lie as smartly as ever ? " 
 jj " No, sir, not quite." 
 
 I " Now, Tivvy, I shall ask you a few questions, and if 
 you have a spark of truth in you, I warn you to let it 
 out, or I will crush it out ; as weak as you may think me 
 I can still manage you. " 
 
 "Oh, poor Mas'r Conrad is gwine out of his senses 
 agin ! " 
 
 She seemed to be preparing to scream out, but a men- 
 acing look from her master threw her back in her 
 chair, and made her as mute as if she had been tongue- 
 less. For a moment the sick man looked at her cower- 
 ing, frightened appearance, and bit his lip to suppress a 
 smile ; then said, in a half stern, have jocular voice : 
 
 " Well, then, I didn't mean to scare you to death quite. 
 Tivvy, when I was ill, and you had all given me up to 
 die — when I could not speak, and you believed I could 
 not see — I thought then, girl — or I dreamed it — that I saw 
 as plainly as I see you now, my poor, lost Marianna, stand- 
 ing by my bedside. She was weeping bitterly, and 
 wringing her hands ; and then, oh ! then (methinks I feel 
 them yet ; so dewy and refreshing were they to my 
 parched soul), ever and anon, she would stoop down and 
 imprint a long, fervent kiss on my ^or, dried lips. She 
 was dressed in deep mourning, and looked so sad, so 
 despairing. She called me dear cousin — dear Conrad — 
 dear, dear Charlie. Then the scene changed, and she 
 called me brother, and grew cold and reserved — seemed to 
 shudder and shrink from me ; which made me so wretched 
 that I thought I died, and only came to life a few hours 
 ago. Now you are to tell me every word about this, 
 Tivvy, as you hope for any good fortune or happiness in 
 this world or the next. I command you to tell me the 
 truth, the whole truth. You had better not provoke me, 
 girl."' 
 
238 
 
 T H E N I G H T W ATCH. 
 
 Tivvy clasped her hands together, rolled up her eyes 
 until you could only see the whites, and falling on her 
 
 knees, says : 
 
 "How, Mas'r Charles, I'm gwine to tell the truth, same 
 as if I was in the judgment at the last day of the world. 
 
 " Go on," says Murray, with great trepidation, "speak." 
 
 " Well, Mas'r Charles Conrad Murray, I takes the Lord 
 of Hosties to witness, that what I say is the fact, the whole 
 fact, and nothing but " 
 
 " Go on," shouted Murray, quite carried away by impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " To witness," says Tivvy, in a subdued tone, " that I 
 does believe from the bottom and incesses of my heart 
 and soul, that — that you w-a-s a dreaming." 
 
 With a quick movement, and an angry, disappointed 
 look, he gave her a violent push, which threw her sprawl- 
 ing on the floor backward. 
 
 Just then the door opened, and Doctor Gabriel Brown 
 entered. He stopped suddenly, exclaiming with great 
 glee, " Hoity toity ! What's all this ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! he ! 
 he ! ho ! ha ! " and he laughed until the tears ran down 
 his plump, ruddy cheeks. " Well, this is the best joke I've 
 got on you, Conrad." 
 
 " Sir, you are mistaken ; it's no joke, and I'm in no 
 mood to be laughed at. Get up there, Tivvy, and take 
 yourself oft\" 
 
 The girl rose with alacrity, and as she left, was heard 
 to giggle. This for an instant seemed to enrage the sick 
 man, and he commanded Brown, in a very authoritative 
 voice, to call her back and hand him his cane. 
 
 " Pshaw ! Nonsense ! Why, man, you are getting well 
 too fast. I must give you something to put you back a 
 bit. Lie down, sir, lie down," said he as he felt his 
 pulse. 
 
 Finding him much excited, and looking almost ill again, 
 he proceeded to prepare a draught for him, but when he 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 239 
 
 turned to administer it, he found him sitting up in bed, 
 I looking for all the world like a galvanized corpse. 
 
 " Lie down, sir," said the doctor, in a very determined 
 ■poice. 
 
 " I will not ; I am a free man. How dare you speak to 
 a white man in that way ? " 
 
 " Because you are my patient. I am responsible to 
 your friends for your well-being ; besides, you are under 
 my control, and in my power. Now, Murray, if you do 
 not drink this anodyne and lie down quietly, like a decent 
 sick man should do, I'll be blamed if I don't knock you 
 down ; so that's the long and short, and whole upshot of 
 the matter." 
 
 Being very weary now, and much exhausted by the 
 agitation of the last half-hour, he was content to fall into 
 the hands of the good little doctor. 
 
 Presently he grew composed, and begged his friend to 
 listen to him, while he related minutely what had passed 
 between himself and Tivvy, imploring him to speak. 
 
 The doctor grew thoughtful, then moody, and at last 
 answered the poor, enthusiastic, half-demented sick man : 
 " Well, Murray, I must think, with Tivvy, that you did 
 dream a great deal daring that long slumber of the men- 
 tal faculties, that midnight of the mind." 
 
 " Doctor, I did not dream then. My mind was not dark 
 at that moment, as you think. I tell you, I saw my lost 
 bride, my long-loved Marianna. I felt, and do yet feel, 
 her dewy kisses on my lips. It was that heavenly mois- 
 ture falling on the arid soil of my soul, which revived it, 
 and caused verdure to spring up. You need not shake 
 your head ; I am sane now. I have not forgotten either. 
 Would the fainting wretch who had traversed the desert 
 for many days without refreshment, forget the cup of cool 
 water which he had unexpectedly received? Well, as 
 that cup would be to the parched, cracked lips of the poor 
 perishing wayfarer in the wilderness, so was that first kiss 
 
240 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 to my withered soul. I fainted no more. I could not die 
 then ; "hut Oh ! I thirst again for that cup. Gods ! how 
 my soul pines and my heart yearns for a few more drops 
 even of that, th-a-t, t-h-a-t d-e-w-y cup." He falls asleep. 
 
 Doctor Brown sat watching him for some time, with his 
 fingers on his pulse. He smiled placidly as he slept, and 
 still murmured, "that dewy cup." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! With all our boasted knowledge, we 
 know nothing. We all thought him dying that night, six 
 of us. Six doctors (I wonder it didn't kill him) exhausted 
 their skill, and threw up ; then he was saved by one woman, 
 and in the simplest and most natural way — a kiss ! Well, 
 I'll be blamed if I don't think it is enough to bring a fel- 
 low back to life. They will either kill or cure, that's 
 certain." 
 
 He rang the bell, and when James entered, he told him 
 his master must be kept very quiet. Every person, and 
 every subject of an exciting nature must be kept from 
 him. 
 
 u Yes, sir, but Miss Lindsay has been here waiting for 
 several hours to come in ; but I guess the sight o' Miss 
 Guttrude will not excite any great commotions in Mas'r 
 Charles' heart." 
 
 The doctor smiled and left. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 241 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE GOVERNOR'S LEVEE. 
 
 14 The house was an inn, where all were feasted and welcomed." 
 
 11 Hath wine an oblivious power ? 
 
 Can it pluck out the sting from the brain ? 
 The draught might beguile for an hour, 
 But still leave behind it the pain." 
 
 Nature has again unveiled her bright, smiling face, 
 and as if the more to fascinate her lovers, she has cast off 
 her mantle of hoar frost, murky clouds, and occasional 
 robe of beautiful snow wreaths, and arrayed herself in all 
 her glory of light green, diversified by all the tints of the 
 rainbow. Yet is she still a coy belle, coquetting skittishly 
 With her adorers. Now smiling so sweetly and brightly, 
 then veiling her face, and anon, in sheer exuberance of 
 gladness, weeps. It is spring, the season for such vaga- 
 ries — the charming month of May, about the end, and 
 near the close of day. Light clouds are chasing each 
 other over the soft cerulean expanse, and a balmy breeze 
 has sprung up, cool and refreshing. The goddess herself, 
 and all her myriad train, are breathing forth the incense 
 of adoration to their Creator. 
 
 The flowers, at this vesper hour, are exhaling their 
 sweetest perfumes to honor Him. The little birds, hop- 
 ping from spray to spray, and chirping merrily ; the chor- 
 isters in the grove who open their throats and melody 
 gushes out, do hymn forth His praise, and rejoice in their 
 existence. Even the insect world, the poor beetle, the 
 cricket on the hearth, and every beast and creeping thing, 
 21 
 
242 
 
 T II E N J G 11 T W ATCH. 
 
 in the exercise of their peculiar functions, do but furnish 
 testimonials of the declarative glory of God. All things 
 seem to join in this silent, harmonious tribute of praise. 
 The earth seems one vast altar, and the universe a mighty 
 temple, to declare the glory of its maker, and to show 
 forth His handy-work on this sweet spring evening, this 
 holy vesper hour. Only man, he alone, made in the image 
 of God, is ungrateful. 
 
 A tall figure, enveloped in a shawl, moves slowly along 
 down Market street, until he reaches a hovel. Now he 
 takes his position against a lamp-post, and commences to 
 scrutinize the premises. All things remain as they were. 
 There hangs the same old blue curtain, with the rent in 
 the center — but the season is changed, and there is no 
 ruddy firelight gleaming through, thereby revealing what 
 is passing within. He steps forward, and with great 
 trepidation gives a hurried knock ; another, and another 
 succeeds the first, with even more impatience ; but alas ! 
 no voice issues from within, bidding him enter. 
 
 He waits a moment longer, and finding all so still, with 
 a disappointed look turns away and walks on to the little 
 toy-shop and raps. An interesting lady comes to the 
 door accompanied by a bright, happy-looking child — a 
 pretty little girl. 
 
 " Is Miss Minny Dun at home? " 
 
 "No, sir," answered the interesting lady. He turned 
 mournfully off. Before Lucy May could explain a word, 
 he is retracing his steps, but turns from the beaten track 
 and wanders about, he cares not whither. 
 
 It is growing late, and to the valetudinarian the air 
 feels chill and damp. As he turns his steps homeward he 
 hears a sweet, bird-like voice call " Papa;" turning he 
 meets his daughter, and Miss Lindsay, who is holding the 
 little Genevieve by the hand. At the first flush he was 
 vexed at the meeting ; he believed the beauty had pur- 
 posely thrown herself in the way, arrayed as she was 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 243 
 
 with such elaborate care, w T ith all the accessories to fas- 
 cinate and seduce. He was almost tempted to pass her by. 
 But Murray was a gentleman, although now a willful, way- 
 ward one, as he was always a haughty one. He would 
 not, nay, he could not treat any woman rudely, when 
 from under the domination of his fierce passions. 
 
 So when the little girl ran to him, seized his hand and 
 kissed it, saying, "Dear papa, Cousin Gerty and I walked 
 out to seek you. Grandma sent us to see where you 
 were, and what you were doing " (Gertrude blushed crim- 
 son); he answered, " Did you my love? I am sure I ought 
 to be very much obliged to you both." Then he offered 
 his arm to Gertrude, and taking the little Genevieve by 
 the hand, they proceeded in silence. 
 
 There was a subdued manner about the girl this eve- 
 ning, in her tone of voice, and the expression of her face; 
 her haughtiness seemed chastened down to something 
 like softness. Murray almost admired her, and I imagine 
 he gave an intimation of this by some secret telegraphing, 
 some little pressure of the hand, or I do not know what, 
 but the proud lady again blushed and trembled. He saw 
 and felt this silent token of his power ; and it is not in 
 the nature of man, vain man, to be indifferent to such 
 ovations. 
 
 They passed the Executive Mansion, whose windows 
 were blazing with light, and there was an unwonted stir* 
 about the place. 
 
 " What is going on there, Gertrude? " 
 
 " Why Conrad ! Is it possible you don't know? " 
 
 " I do not. I have seen nothing, and heard nothing, 
 for half a century. This morning, and for the last week, 
 I have denied myself to all visitors, pleading ill health, 
 and bad feelings." 
 
 " The Governor is at home this evening, and receives his 
 friends in any way in which they may choose to present 
 
244 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 themselves — in masquerade, fancy-ball dress, or as 
 yourself." 
 
 They walked on in silence for a moment; then he spoke 
 quickly, as if afraid he would again forget it. " You are 
 going, Gertrude?" 
 
 " ' Mirabile dictu ! ' I have no escort. This is grand 
 reception night, and Miss Lindsay has no beau. Ah me ! " 
 
 "Where is Mr. Grain es ? " asked he drily, slightly 
 smiling. 
 
 " I don't know," replied the beauty, curtly — not smil- 
 ing at all. 
 
 Then came another awkward pause, in which you might 
 have heard the lady's heart beat, had there been space 
 under those patent corsets. Then he asked her very 
 quickly, if she " wished to go ? " 
 
 " Oh yes. More than anything in the world," said she. 
 
 " Then would you consent to lean on such a poor, broken 
 reed as I am? " 
 
 " Thank you ; with pleasure ; " and the lady evidenced 
 too much of it. It seemed like exultation ; and it grated 
 on Murray's refined and over-fastidious notions of female 
 delicacy. It displeased him. There was in truth a mani- 
 fest elation at this opportunity of being seen with him 
 in public. 
 
 As they parted at her door, he said, " I will call for you 
 in my carriage, at the right hour," touched his hat, and 
 he and the little girl plodded on their way homeward. 
 
 When she reached her room, and rung for her maid, 
 and as she was being ministered to by that sable com- 
 pound of cunning, smartness, and duplicity, she continued 
 to grumble : 
 
 " In the carriage ! Aye ! in the carriage ! What in the 
 fiend's name is he going to come that way for ? I wanted 
 the walk with him. I wanted every body to see me hang- 
 ing on his arm." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 245 
 
 1 I'll tell you, Miss Gutty," said Ann, " I tinks I knows, 
 nigger as I is." 
 
 " What do you mean, Miss, by speaking in my presence 
 without license? But speak out this time, and mind how 
 you presume again. Go on, I say." 
 
 " Well den. He's jest gwine to carry his mother; and 
 she, you know, will come all apart — all dem patchwork 
 will fall to pieces, ef she ebber did walk dat fur." 
 
 " ISTow that is it, I do expect. I don't know what he 
 wants to hang all them scraps and shreds on his arm 
 for? his poor, feeble arm." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Gutty ! don't talk dat way ; 'tis sin. She 
 flesh of his flesh, and bone of his sinews ! " 
 
 " I suppose then he will have to wait on her, hang over 
 her, and trail round the room with her ; and I shall have 
 to promenade with Gaines, or some other stupid fellow." 
 
 " Well : Dis nigger don't know much about de eat de cat 
 of dat new fashionable Gubbernor's house. I can't say 
 for sartin. But I tell you, Miss Gutty, what I do summise, 
 dat he won't not be able to trot round (as you say) noting, 
 unless it be in a cheer or sofa. And Miss Gutty, if you will 
 take the advice of your own faithful black nigger maiden, 
 you'll just hang yourself on the tudder side, and sit still 
 wid his mother and him; 'stead o' gallavanting about de 
 floor. Dat will be de purtiest, and de familiarest, and 
 more in de family -way like, to sit still wid him any how." 
 
 " Ann, I believe you are right, and I do believe I will 
 take your advice. It will be so romantic and sentimental 
 to immolate my ambition on the altar of affection." 
 
 " Well, Miss Gutty, I don't not know what you means 
 by dem high-fa-lutin things and words ; but I know de 
 street door did ring some time ago." 
 
 A servant entered, handed a card, and withdrew. A 
 few words are scratched carelessly on it with a pencil. 
 " Mr. Gaines has called to see if Miss Lindsay has com- 
 pany for the evening?" 
 
246 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C II . 
 
 u Pshaw ! I thought it might have been Conrad, or 
 somebody. Bun, Ann, and tell him I am provided." 
 
 But Ann did not confine herself to that simple mes- 
 sage, but told him everything with which the reader is 
 acquainted, even to the premeditated walk to entrap Mur- 
 ray ; and detailed minutely the preceding dialogue between 
 herself and Mistress. In fact, the lady's maid kept the 
 lover informed from day to day, of every word and trans- 
 action in the private life of the beauty. She assured him, 
 " That if he would only hold on £ faithful, ' that he would 
 be sure to get her at last. I tell you, Mas'r Josiah, Col. 
 Murray and Miss Gutty will never be married. 'Taint not 
 his destination, and he don't want to neither; but he tries 
 mighty hard to do it, for de honor of his sake; but he 
 can't, because it aint not his destination." 
 
 So Gaines believed, and he never wavered in his faith a 
 moment. He had resolved on it, and he never doubted 
 but that he should ultimately succeed in bearing off that 
 great prize of wealth and beauty. He had loved her at 
 first with a pure, disinterested affection, when they were 
 much younger. Gaines had been almost bred up in the 
 house of his benefactor, Major Lindsay ; he had known 
 Gertrude all his life, and they were near the same age — 
 she though being the elder. 
 
 Yes, he loved her at first for herself, without knowing 
 that she was an heiress. But she had flirted with him, 
 coquetted him, and sometimes lured him on to commit 
 himself, and would then slight and maltreat him in the 
 presence of witnesses. Still a sort of fatality kept him 
 there : and now ambition to be the husband (he Lind- 
 say's second clerk) of the peerless Miss Lindsay, and a 
 secret desire to requite her treatment to him when he 
 shall have gained that post, are the best feelings and 
 strongest motives which actuated him. Yet he admires 
 her intensely; he is charmed with her appearance, 
 and enchanted by her accomplishments. Superadded to 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 247 
 
 this is a vivid recollection of that fortune of a half- 
 million of dollars. 
 
 When Ann has concluded her communications, he smiles 
 sardonically, and leaves the house. Murray calls at an 
 early hour for Gertrude ; informs her that it is incumbent 
 on him to make his appearance at the mansion at rather 
 an unseasonable hour for such an ultra fashionable as 
 herself; that he being one of the Governor's aids, is bound 
 to be in place. 
 
 She looks dissatisfied, and frowns involuntarily. 
 
 M I can not help it, Gertrude. You know at this time 
 I am no part of a lady's man, and it is my duty to be at 
 the side of the Governor. I will conduct my mother 
 there, and send Mr. Gaines, or some other friend for you, 
 perhaps your father." 
 
 " Oh no. I shall be ready in a moment, and much pre- 
 fer going now with Aunt Murray and yourself." 
 
 She found that in the indulgence of her splenetic feel- 
 ings she had overreached herself, and that Col. Murray 
 was not Josiah Gaines. She therefore brightens up and 
 declares that she was only jesting, and would not detain 
 them a second. So away she flies, and soon returns 
 enveloped in some light mazy drapery, which throwing a 
 softening influence about her, brings her nearer to his 
 "beau ideal" of beauty than he has ever before thought 
 her. She is for the first time, to his eyes, more lovely than 
 handsome. 
 
 On arriving, they found the company collecting rapidly. 
 Yet it is quite too early for the "leader of ton" to be 
 seen. So she hurries to the cloak-room, where she meant 
 to hide until the proper hour should arrive for her to 
 make her advent among the admiring throng. Murray 
 left them there. On going down he received a note from the 
 Governor, requiring his immediate presence in the saloon. 
 
 He went back and told her that he was forced to the 
 alternative of conducting them to the drawing-room at 
 
248 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 once ? where they would be compelled to sit ; or to wait 
 there in the dressing-room until the reception of guests 
 should be over. This would have been crucifixion to the 
 vanity of the spoiled girl. To be seated for an hour or 
 two when she first enters a drawing room ! Why she 
 would get a back-set from which she could not recover 
 during the whole evening. Therefore she proposed that 
 he should hand his mother to a seat, and at his earliest 
 convenience return for her. 
 
 Thus Murray and his mother were the first to pay their 
 devoirs to the "powers that be." Then seating her on a 
 sofa in the most desirable part of the room, he brought a 
 friend of his — a distinguished stranger — and introduced 
 him to her. After which he took his station by the side 
 of the Governor. 
 
 It was hard to tell, as they stood there together, which 
 created the greatest sensation; the fair, ruddy, light- 
 haired, merry -faced, medium-sized man in office, or the 
 pale, dark, and grandly melancholy countenance and 
 manly form of his aid. Perhaps place and position threw 
 a few straws in the balance against our friend Murray, in 
 the minds of the mothers and more calculating daughters; 
 but with the natural, sentimental, and disinterested, our 
 somber friend made him kick the beam. 
 
 As soon as his duties, as the Governor's right hand 
 man, were over, he excused himself, and left for the pur- 
 pose of conducting the peerless Gertrude through the 
 rooms. On his way, he encounters Mr. Gaines, w T ho is 
 wearing a mock rueful face, but with a lurking smile in 
 the corner of his rather pretty mouth. On inquiring the 
 cause, Gaines says : 
 
 u The one thousand and one rebuffs which I have met 
 with, at different times from Miss Lindsay, are all nothing 
 to the one I have just received. I went, as I thought, in 
 duty bound — being of the same household — to offer my 
 arm to the lady, my old play -mate, when she rejected it 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 249 
 
 with scorn. She absolutely spurned me as I imagine a 
 Sultana would a presumptuous slave. She declared she 
 would sit there till broad daylight, if you did not choose 
 to come for her until that time." 
 
 " And yet you laugh, Mr. Gaines. I regret this scene, 
 but I declare you evidence so much philosophy, or it may 
 be apathy under it, that I am filled with admiration. 
 Which of these is in full exercise now, Josiah ? " 
 
 "Neither, sir; I only let patience have her perfect 
 work. It will not always be so, and you will see it," and 
 he smiled significantly, and passed on. 
 
 Gertrude surpassed herself in elegance to-night. Of 
 late, in her absorbing desire to please her lover, she had 
 dressed more in accordance with his taste, which was 
 less magnificent, but more chaste than her own. On this 
 evening she wore white crepelise, thickly dotted over with 
 minute gold stars. A border of jasmine and other beau- 
 tiful flowers, were wrought in gold around the skirt, as 
 high as the knees. This was worn over white satin. A 
 snowy gossamer veil, ornamented as the dress, hung in 
 graceful folds depending from the back of her head. 
 This veil was made from the finest blond lace, and so 
 mazy that you would almost doubt of its existence, had 
 it not been wrought with gold thread into a wreath at 
 the border, and specked all over with the smallest span- 
 gles. The usual tiara of diamonds or pearls, each worth 
 a sugar plantation, was displaced by a simple wreath of 
 orange blossoms — this confined the veil. Her appear- 
 ance, altogether, was more feminine, and much more in 
 character with her age and girlhood than he had ever 
 seen it. 
 
 As soon as they had advanced a little way into the first 
 parlor, he found that they were attracting the undivided 
 attention of the gaping, admiring multitude ; and remem- 
 bering that Gertrude had not yet received the obeisance 
 of the presiding genius of this tumultuous sea of human 
 
250 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 beings, he endeavored to lead her to him — but more to 
 avoid the rude stare, and servile bows which were offered 
 to the belle. 
 
 In elbowing their way through the crowd, Gertrude 
 was once or twice in imminent danger of losing her veil, 
 and Murray his equilibrium as well as equanimity. Many 
 an amusing sight and shocking sound greets them. But 
 what matters? This is a Eepublican Government, and 
 that was a sort of " omnium gatherum," where all could 
 come and feel free. Here is Apple Joe, as the chil- 
 dren call the street vender of that fruit, and by his side 
 is his little dowdy sweetheart — so finely dressed that she 
 ignores all acquaintance with the laundry that morning. 
 Anon, they are jostled by the burly blacksmith, who, at 
 twelve o'clock to-day, came out with naked arms, sooty 
 face, leathern apron, and hammer in hand, to examine 
 a loose shoe on the foot of one of the noble greys before 
 the regal equipage of the proud lady. Now he pulls his 
 front lock with a clownish bow, to the polished aristocrat. 
 There, too, is Mr. Nathan, the Jew clothing merchant, 
 gliding about amid the throng. Here are masks, and 
 dominos, and fancy dresses, and citizens' dresses. The 
 badges of office, the insignia of pride of place, pride of 
 wealth, and pride of family, mingling and jostling, cheek 
 by jowl, with the artizan and tradesman. There stands 
 the gaping, staring, wondering delegation from the coun- 
 try. The peasant is easily told from the city hireling. 
 All meet here on equal grounds once a year, u pell mell, 
 in the people's house — the Executive mansion." 
 
 They now force their way to the ballroom ; and there, 
 flashing in diamonds and charms, amid that unmitigated 
 gaslight, they find the " sot disanV elite of the city. We 
 can not stop here to describe, at any length, what meets 
 the senses there. For one second, all is suspended * 
 and merged into that admiring gaze at the handsome 
 couple who now advance into the center of the room. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 251 
 
 Then the beaux and acquaintances (but not friends ; of 
 such she is minus. Poor lady ! Any sort of superiority, 
 any very great endowments, either of wealth, genius, or 
 beauty, separates a woman from her species — especially 
 from her own sex, and leaves her really isolated and 
 friendless) — of Miss Lindsay flock to, and crowd around 
 her with that stereotyped smile, and everlasting, un- 
 changing, monotonous phrase — " May I have the plea- 
 sure to dance the next set with you ? " She declines all 
 overtures, preferring to hang on the arm of that " broken 
 reed,'" and with him, to view and criticise the motley 
 scene. 
 
 Here is a lady who has some time since fallen into the 
 " sere and yellow leaf," trying to blush under the simili- 
 tude of spring. Another who has not passed her first, 
 fresh girlhood, is bending under the voluptuous maturity 
 of summer. Anon a child, fair, fresh, and ruddy, is per- 
 sonifying winter, and is dressed in crimson velvet and 
 gold fringes ; she is literally bowed down with ermine 
 and the heat. It is not exactly a " midsummer night," 
 but it is a balmy evening in May. This is a called ses- 
 sion of the Legislature, and out of season, and out of 
 order, as many other things are also. 
 
 Here are kings and queens, lords and ladies, counts and 
 countesses. On the right stands Madame de Maintenon, 
 leaning on the arm of her royal lover. On the left is Eich- 
 lieu, seeming to be engaged in watching the soft dalliance 
 of the distinguished couple. Here is Queen Elizabeth, with 
 ruff and farthingale, dancing the latest French cotillion 
 with her favorite Leicester. By her side, whispering and 
 giggling in the last and most approved style known in 
 the court of folly, is her beautiful rival, the Queen o' 
 Scots. Then there are May Dacres, and sweet Lucy Ash- 
 % tons, and Die Vernons ; but the young " JSTourmahal, the 
 light of the harem," does not join in the giddy whirl 
 
252 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 to-night, but stands apart with a look of quiescent con- 
 tentedness never before seen on that countenance under 
 similar circumstances. 
 
 u Conrad," murmured she, looking lovingly into his 
 face, " I will not keep you standing ; you are feeble, and 
 must feel weary. Let us join your mother at once." 
 
 He did not reply, and she found he was watching a 
 couple who were standing back in an alcove window, 
 looking on at the dancers. 
 
 " Who is that distinguished-looking man there, so darkly 
 and superbly handsome? he who is bending over and 
 talking so earnestly to that mask ? See how gracefully 
 and trustingly she hangs on his arm — his stout, strong 
 arm." 
 
 " Yes," said Murray, " 'tis the ivy and the oak, the vine 
 clinging to the brave, tall tree." He had not removed his 
 eyes while speaking, but kept them fixed on the masked 
 figure. 
 
 " Who are they? See, they emerge from their hiding- 
 places. Why, Conrad, he is the handsomest man in the 
 room, except yourself. I think him the most perfect 
 impersonation of Coeur-de-lion. Do you think he meant to 
 revive the 1 Black Knight ' here this evening, Charles? " 
 
 " ]STo: I do not presume he ever thought of it ; but had 
 King .Richard's spirit sought the world, though, he could 
 not have found a more worthy representative, not only 
 seemingly but really." 
 
 " You know him, then ? Pray enlighten me ; I'm cap- 
 tivated." 
 
 " No, not much ; very slightly acquainted with the per- 
 son, but well aware of the great worth of the man." 
 
 They passed on to the drawing-room, and approached 
 the Governor. 
 
 " Ah ! my queen of beauty ! my Yen us de Medicis ! my 
 constellation has been incomplete all the evening. And 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 253 
 
 now all lesser lights pale in the presence of this star. 
 See, see, how they hide their diminished heads already. 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! look, Conrad. Ah ! you are a lucky dog." 
 
 This last remark and burst of merriment was evoked 
 from the little Governor, who really did feel very great 
 admiration for the personal appearance of Gertrude, by 
 the dropping off of the gay bevy of ladies who had con- 
 tinued to revolve around him the whole night, until his 
 hyperbolical simile, expressing his sense of her superi- 
 ority, had given offense. He had managed to make each 
 one think herself the prime favorite; thereby keeping 
 quite a number near him to aid in the tiresome, conven- 
 tionalities imposed on him by his high position. But 
 now they are scattered to the four corners of the room, or 
 elsewhere, and that brilliant trio are left standing alone. 
 
 The Governor then proposes that they shall adjourn to 
 the ball-room ; but Gertrude excuses herself, and inti- 
 mates that she would like to join Mrs. Murray. 
 
 They find her still in conversation with that distin- 
 guished stranger. The gentleman rises and offers his 
 seat, but Gertrude passes on, knowing by experience that 
 one lady never forgives another who is so unfortunate, or 
 imprudent, as to supplant an agreeable gentleman by her 
 side. Mr. and Mrs. Green are sitting there, but sweet 
 Mary Green is treading that everlasting round with her 
 blond lover. 
 
 Murray threw himself down by Gertrude, and com- 
 plained of great weariness. The lady was full of sympa- 
 thy and regret, and invoked all sorts of genteel little 
 imprecations on herself for imposing on him such a task. 
 
 " Well, never mind now, you can not help it ; they will 
 make such a lioness of you. This evening you have 
 enjoyed an unprecedented triumph, and now we can afford 
 to sit still and watch the progress of the treadmill." 
 
 " Yes, my love," whispered she, and then blushed at 
 
254 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 her own temerity. So she commenced her criticisms in a 
 hurried and embarrassed voice. 
 
 u Mrs. Calderwood, as I live. Why, yesterday she pro- 
 nounced herself ill in bed. Look, Conrad, how she is 
 trying to give old Miss Nancy Jones the slip. See how 
 the poor old toady hangs on." 
 
 As she came near, they could hear her voice in a loud, 
 hissing whisper : " Yes, Mis Callerwood, they are here. 
 I saw T 'em in the ball-room jest now, as I peeped in. She 
 was dressed beautiful, and looked mons'rous pretty. I 
 declare he looked down in her face, like he was beginning 
 to love her. His mother is here too, and got on all her 
 fixings, and looks ra-al elegant." 
 
 Mr. Calderwood was dragging his wife along at a rapid 
 pace, as if to get through with an irksome duty, as well 
 as to shake off her usual appurtenance, Miss Nancy Jones. 
 She had no intention of extending the least civility in 
 public to the poor old creature, or in fact of being seen 
 with her ; but her anxiety to know all about certain per- 
 sons whom she hated because she envied them, and the 
 eager delight with which she gave her attention to what 
 " they do say" was stronger even than pride. So as they 
 walk along, her head is thrown back in the attitude of 
 listening. 
 
 Calderwood gives her a sudden jerk, with, " What in 
 the devil's name are you dragging back so for?" And 
 thus he separated her from the crone. He has just per- 
 ceived Gertrude, and is all anxiety to throw himself in 
 her train. Now they stop, and Calderwood is transfixed 
 before the beauty and the belle. 
 
 Murray most cordially despised this married roue, and 
 moved off, that he might not be forced to listen to the ful- 
 some adulation which he knew would be poured into the 
 willing ear of his affianced bride. 
 
 So Calderwood and his wife dropped down on each side 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 255 
 
 of Gertrude ; the former commencing a whispered con- 
 versation. Thus Miss Nancy was shuffled off with as lit- 
 tle compunction as they would have thrown away a 
 worthless garment. 
 
 " Poor old thing ! " said Mrs. Green, M I am truly sorry 
 for her." She made room between herself and Mrs. Mur- 
 ray, and invited her to sit. 
 
 Murray noted this good action, and it penetrated him. 
 He therefore rose, and remained standing, in order to give 
 them more space. 
 
 That perpetual round of promenaders is now for the 
 first time broken, and the large room is greatly thinned. 
 The " elephant " has gotten through w T ith the exhibition 
 of himself, and has stolen off to regale. The lesser mem- 
 bers of the jungle follow the example of the master beast 
 of the managerie. 
 
 " Who is that pretty, interesting girl with Doctor 
 Brown?" said Murray to Mrs. Green. " Surely, I have 
 seen her before." 
 
 " That is Mrs. Brown. The doctor is married, you 
 know." 
 
 " Married ? When ? Why, I never heard a word of it." 
 A laugh a little too loud and boisterous for the " queen of 
 beauty," burst from Gertrude, which seems to startle and 
 shock Murray. 
 
 " She never does anything right when in company with 
 that wretch," said he to Mrs. Green. The lady smiled 
 and shook her head. 
 
 " Why, Col. Murray, you are the veriest old 1 Eip Van 
 Winkle.' Have you also been asleep twenty years ? " said 
 Gertrude. 
 
 This thoughtless remark elicited a laugh from a portion 
 of the circle, but it passed without further notice. 
 
 Murray was occupied in watching the little doctor, 
 whose good-natured face was glowing with happiness. 
 Minny was dressed in a delicate rose-colored .gros-de- 
 
256 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Naples, made " low-necked and short sleeves." She also 
 wore costly lace and handsome rubies, which were pecul- 
 iarly becoming to her rich brown skin. There were no 
 ornaments in her hair, save one " red, red rose." She is 
 greatly improved in appearance, having become fat and 
 plump; her complexion, too, is clear. In short, she is 
 now a very pretty little woman, and is the embodiment 
 of cheerfulness, amiability, and contentment. 
 
 " Whom did he marry ? " asked Murray. 
 
 " A Miss Dun ; an exceedingly interesting Scotch girl," 
 replied Mrs. Green. 
 
 "Do you visit her, madam? " again inquired he. 
 
 " Oh yes, and like her ; she is as estimable as she is 
 pleasing." 
 
 " Do you visit my friend Brown's family, mother? " 
 
 " No, Conrad, /can't of course visit one of her low ori- 
 gin ; but I assure you, my dear, I shall always feel grate- 
 ful to her, and would be willing to do her a service at any 
 time. I tell you, madam," turning to Mrs. Green, "her 
 attention to my son during his illness was unremitting. 
 She came with her husband, night after night, and per- 
 formed miracles in the way of watching by his bedside." 
 
 Just then they passed, seeming to be as much interested 
 in each other as if they had not been married, or were 
 still lovers. The doctor bowed, and Minny smiled brightly 
 and ingenuously. 
 
 " There is no consciousness of inferiority in that sweet, 
 satisfied smile, and composed countenance, at least," said 
 Murray. 
 
 " She feels none, and there is none. She is equal, and 
 even superior, in many things, to the best of us," said 
 Mrs. Green. 
 
 " Where did my friend Gabriel find her ? " 
 
 "Well, now," struck in Miss Nancy, unable to contain 
 longer, " they do say that she has seen better days, away 
 over on the Black Sea, in Scotland, where they say she 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 257 
 
 come from ; but for several years here she has kept 
 that little old toy-shop away down Market street, in that 
 low, mean neighborhood close by " 
 
 " Oh well, Jones, hush ; you never know where to stop 
 when you get started. The woman couldn't help what 
 you say of her ; she was, you know, deadly poor. All I 
 ever had against her was, that she would always keep up 
 such an intimacy with that insolent milliner ; she with 
 that hateful, pretty, smirking face of hers." 
 
 A loud "ha! ha! ha!" from Calderwood, was the only 
 response to this amiable speech of his wife. 
 
 Murray jumped up angrily and left them, and advanc- 
 ing toward the inoffensive subject of this rude philippic, 
 he joins them, and shakes hands cordially with Brown, who 
 introduces his wife, seeming to swell with pride as he calls 
 the dear little Minny by his name. After a short prom- 
 enade together, they return and take their seats opposite 
 to the party on the sofa. They talk of the doctor's mar- 
 riage, of Murray's illness, etc. Minny converses with ease 
 and fluency ; very sweetly interlarding her phrases with 
 her pretty Scotch words. But she has lost some of them, 
 which < l dear Gabe " has found, such is the reciprocity in all 
 things between them. 
 
 Murray adverts to the evening he met her at the thea- 
 ter ; for as soon as he heard her speak, he had recognized 
 her to be the same sweet little creature who had so 
 charmed him with her simplicity and innocent self-pos- 
 session. But when he ingeniously, as he thought, led to 
 the subject of the veiled lady, and essayed to gain some 
 information of her, his friends became suddenly silent 
 and embarrassed ; and now the whole scene from first to 
 last dawns on his awakening memory, and he urges them 
 in the most impassioned voice to enlighten him. 
 
 " I can na tell ye, sir. I have nae right to speak o* 
 that puir lady's sad history. I am bound by an oath not 
 to do sae." 
 
258 
 
 THE NIGH T W ATC 11 . 
 
 " For heaven's sake, my friend ! compassionate my con- 
 dition, and tell me, if no more, whether she escaped, 
 and how." 
 
 u Well," replied the Doctor, between a sigh and a growl, 
 for the little man found his kind heart was prompting 
 him to do a thing which his reason condemned, and his 
 pledged word forbade ; u well then, she was rescued 
 alive, by that noble beast, the lion of his tribe, or 1 big 
 black bear,' as he looked then — Murdoch, the Night 
 Watch." 
 
 " God bless him ! " cried Murray. " May a just Power 
 so rescue him from all trouble ! And there he is now, 
 with that slight graceful mask, again." They, were talk- 
 ing earnestly, in a low voice. "By heavens! I'll go 
 and thank him. Who is that with him? " 
 
 " Aweel ; I dinna ken, seeing her face is covered over 
 with that pasteboard thing." 
 
 " True, I had forgotten ; how could you know ? " 
 
 He starts oif, overtakes them, shakes hands with Mur- 
 doch, expresses his pleasure at the meeting, and bows 
 respectfully to the mask. Murdoch, in an embarrassed 
 and little bit clownish way, congratulates him on his 
 recovery; then a dead pause ensues, as they pass on and 
 leave the room. 
 
 " Oh ! there is that glorious Black Knight again. I 
 really envy the mask on his arm. How proud I should 
 be to have such a sublime ' personification of night ' to do 
 battle for me, and be subject to my behest ! " 
 
 A universal burst of merriment succeeded ; several of 
 the party exclaiming in astonishment, " Why, Miss Lind- 
 say, you are crazy." 
 
 "Who is he then?" two or three, or more voices call 
 out at once. 
 
 " Why, it is only Murdoch, the Night Watch, dressed 
 up." 
 
 " I don't believe it." said she. 
 
THE NIGHT WATC H 
 
 259 
 
 "It is true, though, my dear" whispered the roue in 
 her ear. " And now talk to me, my sweet girl. We 
 have not many moments allotted to us, like the pres- 
 ent, of late. Why is this, my love?" said he, squeezing 
 her hand. 
 
 The lady returns the pressure, but intimates by some 
 secret sign, that his wife is on the qui vive. 
 
 The spell is broken, and the aristocratic beauty no longer 
 sees Eichard Cceur-de-lion, in the huge form passing 
 before her, but remembers that he is awkward as well as 
 athletic ; his shoulders are too broad and brawny, and his 
 moustache and whiskers altogether too black and bushy. 
 Moreover, she had thought all the time that he did carry 
 himself like a plebeian, and a very Night Watch — that 
 even there, in the Governor's drawing-room, he still 
 retained the sort of stride and swing belonging to his 
 office. Poor Eichard Cceur-de-lion ! Thou art most sud- 
 denly unhorsed. Most ruthlessly robbed of thy helmet, 
 shield, and buckler ! 
 
 When Murray returned he found the room vacated. A 
 servant steps up and tells him that the Governor wished 
 to see him in the first supper room. 
 
 "Lead on," said Murray. When he entered the room 
 he saw the same elite standing around the table ; the Gov- 
 ernor and Miss Lindsay presiding at the head. He 
 receives a sign from them to join the brilliant circle, of 
 whom Gertrude is the nucleus. 
 
 Toast after toast is drunk ; sentiment after sentiment 
 given ; tribute after tribute offered up at that shrine, 
 where he only never had bowed, or bent the knee in true 
 homage. He gazes at the sparkling creature, then hang- 
 ing on the Governor's arm. At last, but slowly the con- 
 viction is forced on him, that he is perhaps untrue to 
 himself in thus secretly worshiping an idol which has 
 long since been dragged from its pedestal, the image only 
 of which is now hid away in his own heart. Was it not 
 
260 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 wrong, to fling away such a prize, to toy with the happi- 
 ness of another, and maybe at last immolate the peace 
 and welfare of both to a shade. " Alas ! I am very willful 
 and wayward. Should I not be proud of an alliance with 
 this woman, whom everybody admires ? Should I not 
 feel gratified by the marked preference she shows me 
 every where ? But is not her love at all times, in public 
 as well as in private, too demonstrative ? Oh yes, I am 
 oftentimes shocked." 
 
 u Come, Colonel," calls out the Governor, u you are a 
 recreant knight, I fear. You have not yet proposed a 
 
 toast to your ladye- friend here. Shall I suggest one 
 
 for you ? ' ' 
 
 Murray bowed. The little great man drew himself up 
 and throwing back his head, gave, " The Queen of Beauty ; 
 The Light of the World ; The Young NourmahaL" The 
 intoxicating cup was quaffed with enthusiasm, and the 
 Siren smiled complacently and encouragingly on this 
 libation. Another and another glass of the sparkling- 
 juice is poured out on that altar, and still the Circe allures 
 and fascinates. At last the calm, dignified, self-possessed 
 Murray, the cool, unimpassioned lover, the candid, hon- 
 orable, upright gentleman, drinks deep and madly— for 
 the first time in his life, abandons himself to his w T hirl- 
 wind passions. 
 
 They are about to adjourn. The Governor, who is 
 much more than u half-seas over," offers his arm again to 
 Gertrude ; but Murray, with a smile and bow, which 
 would have done honor to George the Fourth, says, 
 ''Excuse me, Governor, I am opposed to a monopoly, 
 even in office," and leads off the "Light of the World." 
 
 lie carries her to a private balcony, and then the here- 
 tofore indifferent lover breathes into the eager ear of the 
 infatuated girl, for the first time in his life, something like 
 passion. He does not tell her he loves her; his lips 
 refuse to utter this untruth ; but he makes her, in some 
 
T II E NIG H T W A X C H . 
 
 261 
 
 wild, incoherent way, comprehend that he is dazzled and 
 bewildered by her charms ; that he is intoxicated with 
 the idea of possessing this pet of society ; in short, that 
 he is consumed with passion for her. He begs her to 
 appoint another day — an early day — for their marriage. 
 When she, with well -feigned chariness, tells him to 
 compose himself, and speaks of a month — then remem- 
 bers that that is a very short time to make all suitable 
 arrangements, he calls to mind how infirm of purpose he 
 has always been on that one subject ; feels that he must 
 not again subject his feelings to the alembic of time, 
 that he must act promptly, if at all, and therefore says, 
 with energy, 
 
 " Come, Gertrude, let it take place now, at once ; no 
 more postponements, an you love me." Then she accedes 
 with a charming modesty, which quite takes him. He 
 strains her to his breast in a long and passionate embrace. 
 
 O divine spirit of "pure love!" surely thou hast folded 
 thy wings, and in thy stead some demon doth possess 
 this poor mortal, who from childhood till now has ever 
 been the soul of honor ! O Spirit of Wine ! What hast 
 thou done ? This mighty sin shall be laid at thy door. 
 See ! thou hast superseded all the gentler and finer emo- 
 tions of his soul. 
 
 On stepping from the open window back into the room, 
 Murray thought he saw a dark figure glide from under the 
 curtain, and move swiftly away. But what matter, he 
 sees double now. 
 
 Gertrude has rejoined her party, and Murray rushes off 
 somewhere to breathe the fresh air. He cares not where 
 he finds it ; but he has need of it to cool his fevered brain. 
 
 He has very much the feeling of one who has been 
 impelled by some unseen, indefinable influence to sign his 
 own death-warrant. Now he bares his breast to the 
 breeze ; he feels frantic ; he does not know whether joy 
 
262 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 or anger is the dominant feeling; but he knows that he is 
 almost mad. 
 
 Many persons are promenading that spacious piazza ; 
 but he heeds them not. There he stands with open 
 bosom inviting the winds and the storms, if they would 
 come. The front of the executive mansion in the city of 
 
 is ornamented with majestic Corinthian columns ; 
 
 as he passes by one of these pillars a mask darts from 
 behind it, and puts a note into his hand, then in the 
 twinkling of an eye is gone. He examines the pillar; 
 there is scarce a foothold for a bird behind it. He turns 
 into the house, and by the first light in the hall reads : — 
 
 " Col. Murray — Beware how thou dost bind thyself by 
 bonds which will chafe thee unto the end of thy life. Suf- 
 fer no fetters to be riveted, save those which have been 
 forged by affection. A true friend advises thee. She whom 
 thou hast loved fondly from thy boyhood yet lives, and 
 loves thee, even as much as thou dost love her. Remember, 
 and beware of ties." 
 
 With a still wilder start, and more bewildered look, he 
 is about to leave the house, with head uncovered, and 
 cloakless. 
 
 " How now, Conrad? Is your head so weak, that you 
 can not drink the health of your friends, and pledge them 
 in a cup each to his own Divinity ? Come, you have been 
 derelict ere now, and we have forgiven you ; but our 
 clemency is not like the widow's cruise. This way ! " and 
 he leads to the dining-room, where a knot of good fellows 
 are standing before the sideboard. They separate for the 
 Governor and his aid : then they all join in congratula- 
 tions on the approaching nuptials ; this calls for bumpers, 
 and they jest and laugh with the most obstreperous mer- 
 riment. At a moment when Murray is speaking to 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 263 
 
 Gaines, who is one of the Governor's clique, the latter 
 steps off, and then they drink once more. 
 
 Presently Col. Murray seeks his party. He finds Ger- 
 trude and the Governor engaged in a low, earnest con- 
 versation : he seems to be charging her with something 
 which she is denying. On perceiving him, they both 
 become confused. The Governor rallies, and with a smile 
 in which a slight shade of sarcasm is visible, says — "Well, 
 we'll see ; we'll see ! " 
 
 He then leads her to Murray — "Sir, Miss Lindsay 
 grows languid. Our poor efforts to please pall on her 
 over-fastidious taste. She complains of satiety;" then 
 bows, and leaves. 
 
 " There is something covert in that speech," said Mur- 
 ray, mentally ; and he grew a little bit jealous. It is said 
 that " Love sat to the artist when jealousy was painted." 
 Our friend Murray is somewhat entangled with both. 
 He says, "I will ask Gertrude what it all means? Pshaw! 
 why should I ? I shall not be the wiser if I do. From 
 henceforth, I must make myself half blind, and just as 
 deaf; " and a keen pang shot through his heart. 
 
 Now the multitude is dispersing, he hands his mother 
 and Gertrude into the carriage, and jumps in after them. 
 They are whirled home. On taking leave of the beauty, 
 with a feeling of desperation he clasps her again madly 
 to his bosom. Some spirit — whether good or bad, we 
 know not which — whispered, " Think of thy lost bride; 
 think of poor Marianna." And he remembers then the 
 mysterious note : thinks he will peruse it more particularly 
 when he reaches home. Ere he gets there, his memory 
 and mind are both overshadowed; he throws himself 
 heavily on the bed, and sinks into a deep sleep. 
 
26 i 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 T HE MASQUE. 
 
 " An ! could you look into my heart, 
 And find your image there ; 
 You would own the sunny loveliness 
 Affection makes it wear." 
 
 "The beautiful are never desolate, for some one always loves them." 
 
 "But, Leah, I don't see why you should care so much, 
 and be always troubling yourself about people whom you 
 do not know, and who care not for you. Is it that you 
 are in love, too, with that handsome fellow yonder, with 
 all them gauds and glittering rags hanging on his arm? 
 
 D him ! he has crossed my path before, and I would 
 
 hate him if I could." 
 
 u But thou canst not, Murdoch ; all who know Colonel 
 Murray must respect and honor him, if not love him." 
 
 The man turns fiercely on her, scowls, and, dropping 
 her little hand, folds his arms. 
 
 " Leah, you had better stop there ! If you desire any 
 good to come to that haughty man, you had best say no 
 more : for by your own fathers Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, 
 and all the rest of 'em, I'll put this into him (touching a 
 large clasp-knife), with as little remorse as I killed that 
 rabid dog yesterday. That is, if I find him stealing you 
 away from me also." 
 
 " Dear Murdoch, I do not know the man — never have 
 been nearer to him than at this moment, until he joined 
 us so cordially to-night. But let me tell thee now, once 
 for all, that it is not Col. Murray, but the lady. I know 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 265 
 
 that it is only through him, that her happiness can be 
 secured. Then why shouldst thou threaten thus ? Thou 
 dost not love me now, Murdoch." The girl spoke this in 
 a subdued, heartbroken tone. 
 
 "Did I love your mother, girl? Did I worship her 
 while on earth ? and do I adore her image, now that she's 
 in heaven?" 
 
 " I think thou dost, good Murdoch." 
 
 "Then know that you are like her — a fac simile of 
 her." 
 
 Her face lights up with joy as she raises her timid 
 eyes to his. u Dear friend ! dear foster brother ! but do 
 not talk so sharply. You awe me." 
 
 He presses her hand as he looks down in her face 
 affectionately. 
 
 " Go on, Leah, go on, dear girl. I'll do my best to keep 
 down the beast, and conceal the Night Watch under the 
 garb of the Governor's guest and thy lover. ISTow, go on, 
 Leah. What were you saying ? Your voice is very 
 soothing and sweet to my ears." 
 
 " I don't know, now ; excessive happiness, as well as 
 intense wretchedness, makes us stupid. I can think of 
 nothing but thyself, when near thee, my dear brother." 
 She raised her little hand to her head, and seemed to be 
 trying to recall some vagrant thought. Then she looked 
 up brightly and said : 
 
 " Ah ! I have seen this sweet lady ; have talked to her; 
 have looked into that touchingly beautiful face ; gazed 
 into those deep, deep melancholy eyes ; have received 
 kind and courteous treatment from her. Oh ! she is 
 divinely beautiful ! I would not have blamed thee for 
 adoring her — for falling down and worshiping her like 
 a canonized saint, or an enshrined image, as thy religion 
 teaches ; but surely thou didst dream, madly dream, Mur- 
 doch, when thou didst think of mating with that proud, 
 high-born Christian." 
 23 
 
266 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " How do you know that she is high-born, Leah? " 
 
 " Ah ! how could I fail to know ? Nobility of soul is 
 written on her countenance, proclaimed by her gentle 
 manners, and in her sweet voice ; it is labeled on every 
 act of her faultless life. Yet is she proud, she would not 
 even listen to thy love. Poor, dear Murdoch ! " 
 
 " Blame me not, girl, but blame yourself. This would 
 never have happened to me had your mother lived ; for 
 then you would not have kept from me the light of your 
 own sweet face, thus consigning me to darkness. Leah, 
 you do not feel for me, and hide my faults, and excuse my 
 failings as your mother did. She knew of my weaknesses 
 and pitied me. She knew — but maybe you do not yet 
 know (and that strong man trembled) that beauty — the 
 beautiful form and face of woman, has a maddening influ- 
 ence on me. It creates a sort of delirious joy, an insane 
 desire for possession, an exquisite pain, a" 
 
 " Alas ! poor Murdoch ! " said Leah, interrupting him, 
 " I have heard my mother say so, good friend, but as yet 
 I have found thee very clever and docile. Thou shouldst 
 be the Sultan, Murdoch. Wouldst like to be a Grand 
 Turk, brother?" 
 
 " No, girl, I spoke truly when I said you did not know 
 me. I have never loved but twice before," pressing her 
 hand, " and then only one at a time." 
 
 " Dost admire that radiant creature yonder, hanging so 
 lovingly on the arm of Col. Murray ? " 
 
 " No, child ; no indeed ; I never liked a full-blown rose, 
 or a gaudy tulip, or dahlia, which spreads out its gay 
 beauties to meet the kisses of every sunbeam, or to invite 
 every idle breeze, as you know. But, Leah, I have ever 
 sought out the modest and lowly wild flowers. I should 
 never have raised my eyes to that divine creature, had 
 she been exalted, and above all, had there not been some- 
 thing mysterious about her, something which I could not 
 comprehend ; and this feeling was the offspring of com- 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 267 
 
 passion, and a desire to protect and cherish. But she 
 
 spurned me ; Oh, she spurned me for him ! D him ! 
 
 would that I could hate them both." 
 
 "Hush! hush! Thou art mistaken, sir;" said the 
 girl, in a calm, dignified voice, " thou dost wander far 
 from the mark, when thou blamest that man. He did 
 not supplant thee. Long before that poor lady came to 
 this city, they were attached, engaged, and separated. 
 He loved as even thou thyself knowest how to love, 
 dear Murdoch. Then be not too hard ; thou art like him 
 in many things, good friend. By the most cruel train of 
 circumstances they were torn asunder. My father was 
 the prime minister in the atrocity, and the directing and 
 controlling power was that shrewd but bad woman, Mrs. 
 Murray. Even now she holds a despotic sway over him, 
 for which I can not account." 
 
 "Leah, how do you know all this? By heavens! if 
 you can prove this to me, I will take a vow, a solemn 
 oath, that I will not look upon your sweet face, or embrace 
 you, until I have restored them to each other. But you 
 must make it clear to me, girl, without shadow of doubt, 
 and I'll bind myself to do your bidding in all things. 
 Then, when they are happy, I shall claim my reward," 
 and the strong, brawny arm of the J^ight Watch encir- 
 cled her waist, and strained to his breast that delicate, 
 refined girl. 
 
 " Let it be as thou sayest," sighed she, with intense 
 happiness. "And now listen to me. My dear mother, 
 ere she died, when entrusting her poor child with many 
 another fearful secret, leaving many injunctions and innu- 
 merable directions, told me also of this — detailed to me 
 minutely all the events which transpired some seven or 
 
 eight years ago, in the city of , where she and my 
 
 father, and all the other members of the plot then lived. 
 She made me promise, and she called on all the patriarchs 
 to witness it, that I would be vigilant, and always ready 
 
268 
 
 THE NIGHT W ATCH. 
 
 at a moment's warning, to aid and succor that poor lady, 
 should I ever find her out. At the same time said that 
 facts had become so mystified, and it was now such a tan- 
 gled web, that she feared I would never be able to 
 straighten it ; confessed with tears, that she had signally 
 failed, but urged me to put forth all the energy and power 
 of my soul, which is brave and strong in obeying the 
 behests of that sainted mother. Then she pointed to 
 thee, Murdoch, as a fit coadjutor in this work of mercy. 
 She did not see, she scarce hoped, that we could restore 
 the lovers, but she believed we might save the poor lady 
 some anguish, and my misguided father the stain of 
 another crime on his benighted soul. Then she told me, 
 and oh ! so mournfully, Murdoch, that I should find my 
 reward in a peaceful conscience here — all she had ever 
 known — and a full recompense in heaven." The girl 
 wept. 
 
 " Ah ! do not weep, darling. This is no place for tears. 
 We are at the Governor's reception ball, my good 
 Leah." 
 
 " I care not, Murdoch ; I have no heart for such light 
 pleasures ; mine is a higher mission. I rarely have time 
 to smile, even. See, there is my father now, with his 
 stealthy step, creeping along the wall, intent on some evil 
 purpose. O that God would gather me to my people, 
 or that I might become apathetic, blind, deaf." 
 
 " Well, Leah, what do you propose ? I am your tool, 
 until this work of retribution is accomplished. Com- 
 mand me, girl, as your own." 
 
 ' God bless thee, Murdoch ! but I must first premise two 
 conditions." 
 
 " Well, I am ready," said he, drawing her nearer. 
 
 " First, thou art not to endanger thy own precious life; 
 then thou must save my father. Murdoch," said she, seiz- 
 ing his hand with both of hers, " that old, white-haired 
 man must not be sent into the presence of his God with a 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 269 
 
 fresh crime, an unrepented sin on his head. Promise me 
 this, friend." 
 
 " Lord, Leah, what's the use? He'll never be any bet- 
 ter. He sold the immortal part of himself long ago to 
 Satan, for what's in that old trunk, you know, child. I 
 sometimes think I can see the imps or young devils, hov- 
 ering around him, waiting for the old carcass." 
 
 The girl looks hurt, and very much troubled, as she 
 replies : " I know thy vocation, thy dark life ; I mean thy 
 life in the dark, has made thy vision very acute about dark 
 things, and thou mayest have so much to do with the Evil 
 One thyself, that the members of his family are not 
 afraid to show themselves in thy presence. I have never 
 seen such company about my poor father. Methinks 
 thou art quick-sighted, sir. But this is thy own lookout, 
 good Murdoch. Art thou free from sin ? " said she, with 
 much spirit. 
 
 " From crime, as God above knows, and my little wife, 
 that is soon to be, believes. Come now Leah, you must 
 forgive me. I love you so much, and I have identified 
 myself with you so fully, that I felt free to speak as I did 
 of our father. You will pardon me, loved one." 
 
 " I do, Murdoch ; but we waste time." 
 
 " What do you propose then, I again ask?" 
 
 u There is," said the girl, heaving a deep sigh, "a dread- 
 ful plot forming; a frightful scheme hatching. I have 
 watched its progress for some time. Old Faggot, the 
 Jew miser — not my father Levi Nathan, mind you — is 
 engaged by two wealthy ladies at a high price to kidnap 
 or kill that poor defenseless lady." 
 
 Murdoch starts violently, and in his agitation lets 
 Leah's arm drop. 
 
 M My Grod ! you don't tell me so. Are they at that 
 game again ? " 
 
 " It is even so. They think she, the unfortunate Mrs. 
 
270 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Wise, whom they all now identify with his lost Marianna, 
 stands in the way of the consummation of the marriage 
 of Col. Murray and the wealthy Miss Lindsay. He only 
 seems to be kept in ignorance of her existence. This 
 marriage has already been interrupted twice, and these 
 evil-minded persons attribute this delay to her; when she, 
 poor woman, is w r holly unconscious of the existence of 
 such facts." 
 
 " Leah, you surprise me ; but how could this be?" 
 
 " In the first place, they would have been married a 
 year ago, about the time the lady is first seen in the city. 
 It seems he got an accidental sight of her at the window, 
 and being struck with the wonderful resemblance to one 
 whom he had thought dead, he immediately conceived 
 the romantic idea that she was one and the same person ; 
 and so he was not forthcoming in due season." 
 
 " Oh yes ! I know. It was the same time that I saw 
 her, and was so dazzled and grew so distracted," chimed 
 in Murdoch. " I do remember the very first time he got 
 a glimpse of her at the old window, ' he jumped almost 
 out of his hide,' as Johnson says, 'with amazement.' But 
 Leah, I thought it was on account of her pretty face, and 
 I tried to hate him from that time." 
 
 " After that, the old Hecate his mother, and the Circean 
 beauty, who is now looking so sw T eetly and innocently up 
 into his face, cajoled him into another engagement, which 
 was again interrupted by the events of that disastrous 
 night, when Col. Murray was wounded." 
 
 " Yes, d him ! I can never forget that night ; or the 
 
 mighty fall he occasioned me. D him ! I wish I could 
 
 hate him." 
 
 " Hush, Murdoch, thou dost shock me. Is it thus thou 
 shouldst treat the child of thy best friend ? Why dost 
 thou continually offend mine ears by such coarse pro- 
 fanity?" 
 
THE NIG H T W A T H . 
 
 ill 
 
 " Once more I beg you to forgive me, Leah. Go on. I 
 will not offend again, unless I forget myself, or am sur- 
 prised." 
 
 " Now," resumed the girl, "they have put their wits 
 together to inveigle him into another promise, well 
 knowing that he will fulfill it with his life, if not pre- 
 vented by omnipotent power. That man would not 
 break his plighted faith even to that woman by his side, 
 all heartless as he knows her to be." 
 
 " She loves him with an entire heart, Leah ; you can 
 see that ; then how can she be heartless ? " 
 
 " Well ; her passion for him is all that redeems her 
 from it." 
 
 u Leah, I will just ask you one question, and then 
 indeed I'll hear you to the end : How do you find out all 
 these deep, dark secrets? " 
 
 The maiden blushed with shame at the recollection of 
 the ignoble post she occupied in her father's house — her 
 pure nature recoiled at the name of " spy." She spoke 
 quickly, and in a curt, cold voice : u Why ask me that, sir? 
 I thought that thou didst know, that old Faggot, the Jew 
 peddler, miser, usurer, and villain, had a spy planted in 
 every house in the city, where his interest or his malice is 
 at stake ; and that his wretched, degraded daughter had a 
 crack in the wall, and quick ears, and sharp eyes ? I 
 thought thou didst understand all this, and the whys and 
 wmerefores? Now, Murdoch, I have thy promise to aid 
 me in this good work. Have I ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I will obey you in all things, doing my best to 
 succeed. Then, even if I fail, having satisfied you with 
 my efforts, sh-all I then claim my reward, and receive my 
 recompense ? " 
 
 u Oh yes, dear Murdoch." 
 
 " Thank you ! thank you, Leah." And it was then 
 that they emerged from the alcove window. 
 
 Later in the evening we saw Murray join them. Still 
 
272 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C II 
 
 later, we see Leah gliding away from the window of the 
 balcony. Lastly, we meet her on the piazza, after she has 
 darted from the column. Having now accomplished her 
 mission — that which brought her there — she and her 
 lover return to her home, where peace, comfort, and a 
 refreshing banquet await them. 
 
 Levi Nathan had not intended that his daughter should 
 leave home that night ; he thought he had shut her in, as 
 once before. Therefore, he did not suspect that the tall, 
 graceful girl on Murdoch's arm, was his own daughter. 
 He had met this couple once or twice, and had passed 
 with a cringing bow. Having been informed by the 
 little black slave, that Mrs. Wise would accompany Doc- 
 tor Brown and Minny to the Governor's levee " en masque" 
 he had agreed, for an enormous sum, exceeding even the 
 former stipulation, to abduct her; and with this fiendish 
 intent, he and his emissaries had repaired to the mansion. 
 
 It is true, Myra had been coaxed into giving her con- 
 sent, and would have suffered herself to be taken, had not 
 the little Clarence come home that evening sick. And 
 thus again was she saved from falling into the clutches 
 of these vultures. Leah had stolen forth, through one of 
 the secret passages, and met her lover on the confines of 
 that old, gloomy court. 
 
THE NIGHT W A T G H . 
 
 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE FORGERIES. 
 
 f Thought ye your iron hands of pride, ' . 
 
 Could break the knot that love had tied ? n 
 
 " Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge, 
 Accursed, and in a cursed hour she hies." 
 
 ObL. Murray awoke after his revel, with an aching 
 head and heavy heart. He rings for his servant, and 
 orders a bath, after which he dresses himself with great 
 care — intending to call on Miss Lindsay agreeable to 
 appointment — to hear the day, that day of days, named. 
 
 James picked up a paper, and, handing it to his master, 
 says : " You jes drap that, sir." He opens it, and as he 
 reads, becomes red and white by turns ; then starting up, 
 walks hurriedly across the room. 
 
 " James, do you remember that hovel, away down Mar- 
 ket street, where that beautiful boy lived? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and a lady lives there much more beauti- 
 fuler than the boy." 
 
 Murray blushed involuntarily as he said : " Silence, 
 sir! I asked you but one question." 
 
 James clasped his hands low down over his stomach, 
 and commenced twirling his thumbs, trying to look like 
 " suffering innocence, just ready to be offered." 
 
 " Where are they, then ? I think they have left their 
 former residence," rejoined Murray, turning away as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Well, I don't know ezactly; but I know they's still in 
 the city." 
 
274 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 u Are you sure, James ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ; I'm quite sure of that circumstance — 
 'cause the pretty child you was a speaking about, is still 
 at the old theater, a playing to crowded and admiring 
 hou" 
 
 " Will you keep silence, sir, and only reply as you are 
 questioned? What is this boy's name? — I mean the 
 name of his family ? " 
 
 " I've heard Tivvy say, sir, that her name was Mrs. 
 Wise." 
 
 " Very well ; now go and ask Tivvy what her Christian 
 name is. Then answer to the bell, and be ready to carry 
 letters to the post-office." 
 
 When James got alone with Tivvy, she, artful creature 
 as she was, drew him on ingeniously to speak of his mas- 
 ter's affairs, and although he was a faithful servant as 
 negroes go, and attached to his master, he was nothing in 
 the hands of such an intriguante as the lady's maid. So 
 she made him tell her everything that passed; and when 
 he had done so, he was scarcely aware of it, so adroitly 
 had she wormed these secrets from the poor fellow, who 
 would gladly have been true to his master, whom he 
 admired and honored above all things. 
 
 The bell now sounds loudly from Murray's room. 
 When James again presents himself, he tells his master 
 that " Tivvy does not know the tother name of the beau- 
 tiful lady." He had forgotten to ask. 
 
 "It makes no difference, I presume ; put this letter in 
 the office, and then call at Maj. Lindsay's and leave this 
 note." 
 
 He bowed with an obsequious u yes, sir," and his master 
 walked out. 
 
 When James went to answer his master's bell, Tivvy 
 slipped up to her mistress's dressing-room, where she 
 found Miss Lindsay and the old lady ; they had sat there 
 in secret conclave all the afternoon. Gertrude was dis- 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 275 
 
 appointed in Murray's promised call in the morning; so 
 she came to fret and complain to his mother. 
 
 Tivvy listened a moment at the door before she entered, 
 and heard the old lady say, " I'm glad, Gertrude, you 
 have brought him to that, anyhow. But there really is 
 no trusting that man now. Don't feel too secure, my dear. 
 I hope he will go through with it this time. God grant 
 that he may not already have forgotten it." 
 
 " What do you mean, madam ? Do you suppose he 
 could forget his pledged word, voluntarily given, and that 
 to Miss Lindsay ? " 
 
 Mrs. Murray smiled, and said with a peculiar emphasis, 
 
 " Oh, of course not, he never did do such a thing. ISTow 
 let me tell you of a fact which may have escaped you." 
 
 "Well, madam, I'm all attention." 
 
 "Charles Conrad Murray was drunk last night; the 
 first time to my knowledge in his life." 
 
 The girl laughed hilariously. What of that, mother ? 
 I'm sure he had a noble precedent — the first officer in the 
 State. Such high characters can do anything. They 
 almost ennoble vice, in my eyes. But what has that to 
 do with our present subject, madam?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing, only men's oaths made when they are 
 drunk are not considered valid in a court of justice, and 
 I had thought were even less to be relied on in a court 
 of love. That's all, child, that's all." 
 
 Tivvy comes in and hands her mistress the mysteri- 
 ous note which Murray had received at the Governor's. 
 James held this in his hand when he joined her in the 
 hall, having picked it up again on leaving the room. 
 
 Mrs. Murray reads and grows white in the face, all to 
 the two hectic spots. 
 
 " Something has turned our viceroy, the Devil, against 
 us," said she in a husky voice; "who else knows anything 
 of those dark secrets? " 
 
 She now sets to work to circumvent the above men- 
 
276 THE NIGHT W A T C II . 
 
 tioned gentleman. Having learned from Tivvy that 
 James is ordered to carry letters to the office, she with 
 that far-sighted policy and prompt decision which would 
 have done credit to Richlieu, instructed the girl to way- 
 lay James in the hall, having equipped herself for a walk, 
 and then carelessly say to him, that the ladies are waiting 
 for the carriage, which must be at the door immediately. 
 Tivvy should then take the letters and leave the house, as 
 if on her way to the office. 
 
 James, well knowing that Mrs. Murray's voice was all- 
 potential even with his master, did not dare to gainsay or 
 even demur to what Tivvy had said, but handed her the 
 letters, and hurried to the stable. 
 
 The letters traveled back to Mrs. Murray's dressing- 
 room, and there they stopped. The one addressed to Miss 
 Lindsay ran thus : 
 
 "Dear Gertrude — I am prevented by indisposition 
 from calling on you at the appointed hour, as agreed upon 
 last night. To-morrow, I will not fail. Pray excuse my 
 short-comings to-day. I am feeling particularly wretched. 
 Adieu, Murray.' 1 
 
 The letter to Poor Myra seemed to have been written 
 with a tremulous hand, and under great excitement ; was 
 blotted in many places, perhaps by tears wrung from that 
 proud man ; I know not ; we deal in facts. It was 
 couched in these words : 
 
 " Marianna, dear Marianna — Oh ! my God ! How 
 can I proceed? My beloved, I have found you, have 
 pierced your disguise, and now all the combined powers 
 of the earth shall not keep me from you. A whole 
 year I have languished between hope and incertitude. 
 Sometimes wild with desire, and always tortured beyond 
 endurance by suspense. Still you hide from me. Why 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 277 
 
 is this, my love? — my first, last, and only true affection. 
 I have been driven to the verge of despair; have been 
 goaded on to desperate acts, but my love for you, and my 
 steadfast faith in you, Marianna, never wavered. I love 
 you as when we so happily and trustingly wandered in 
 tho^e elysian bowers. I adore you as when we were sep- 
 arated, and the whole world became a bleak and dismal 
 abode of misery to me. Such are my feelings at this 
 instant. Oh my lost bride ! my own, my gentle Mari- 
 anna ! write to me, my love, write on the instant, and tell 
 me where I shall find you, and when I shall once more, 
 Oh heavens ! clasp you to my wild and distracted heart. 
 And now I vow before high heaven, that nothing short 
 of the arm of Omnipotence, or your own positive and per- 
 emptory rejection of me, shall prevent my finding you in 
 less than twenty-four hours. 
 
 "Yours, through time, Murray." 
 
 It is impossible to conceive of, much less describe, the 
 rage which took possession of the beauty on reading these 
 two documents. The one addressed to herself she tore 
 into atoms, then trampled on the fragments, stamped her 
 pretty feet, gnashed her j)early teeth, and foamed at the 
 mouth, in impotent rage. An insatiable thirst for ven- 
 geance, not only on the provocative, but the innocent 
 cause of this outrage, seizes upon her. Oh ! it is a fear- 
 ful and painful sight to see so much beauty marred by 
 anger. 
 
 Presently she grew calm, and suddenly checking the 
 torrent of imprecations, she sat down at Mrs. Murray's 
 feet, and looking up in her face, said with great firmness 
 and emphasis, speaking slowly : 
 
 "Mother, lam resolved that this marriage shall take 
 place. I do not care whether / am happy or miserable, 
 blessed or cursed, so that I keep him from her. I have 
 
278 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 set my life on the cast of this die, and in one week more 
 I shall have accomplished my destiny." 
 
 "Ah! I don't see now what more can be done," said 
 Mrs. Murray. " That old wretch, Faggot, fails us. He 
 too, has grown craven or insane, maybe impotent — I 
 know not what, I know nothing." 
 
 " Aye, but he shall do his work now, and that quickly, 
 else will I play his own game on him. Mother, do you 
 see this hand ? Think you it would be squeamish when 
 my vengeance is to be fed?" and she bared her beautiful 
 arm to her elbow, then burst out into a loud, frenzied 
 laugh. " I shall presently pay him a visit, and if he does 
 not consent to act promptly, and from my dictation, then 
 we'll see who is the stronger." 
 
 Mrs. Murray had been ruminating moodily, during the 
 time that Gertrude had played off these fine heroics ; she 
 now looked up and said : 
 
 " I have one more expedient ; after that I am done for- 
 ever. If that fails, I shall scheme no more. If it succeeds 
 there will be no need." She goes to a secret drawer in 
 her escrutoire, and takes out a package of letters, searches 
 for some time, selects one, then says : " Gertrude, can you 
 imitate this handwriting? " 
 
 She looks at it carefully, and taking a pen writes 
 two lines. 
 
 " Aye, that's it ! that will do precisely. He will never 
 suspect. Now take this sheet of coarse note-paper. It 
 must all be in character you know ; she is too poor to get 
 gilt-edged, embossed paper to write to her paramour (and 
 then she snarled). Write, child, in the characters of that 
 letter, what I shall indite." 
 
 When this forgery was finished, she looked at it and 
 pronounced it a perfect counterfeit. "Now," said she, 
 " imitate my son's." Being also satisfied with that cheat, 
 she proceeded to dictate one from Conrad to poor Myra, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 279 
 
 which, when finished, w T as put into the envelop the 
 superscription of which was written by himself as the 
 reader is aware. Tivvy w T as then dispatched with it, and 
 Gertrude set out to visit the old Jew. 
 
 She finds James at the door with the carriage : the 
 ladies had both forgotten that it had ever been ordered. 
 She threw herself into it, and giving the direction, w T as 
 driven rapidly through the street, passing a great many 
 squares ; then pulling the check -string she gets out, say- 
 ing carelessly, that she preferred walking home, and 
 dismissed him. 
 
 In due time she arrives, and enters the miser's den, or 
 stronghold, as once before described. She finds him there 
 in the same crouching attitude, with the same abject, 
 cringing look. While she is engaged in developing that 
 scheme of mischief and crime, and as she relates with a 
 peculiar accuracy, rendered necessary by the affected 
 obtuseness of the miser, how they had intercepted the 
 letters, and had forged others in their stead ; she pulled 
 out her handkerchief, and with it the original letter writ- 
 ten by Murray, which falls unperceived on the floor. 
 While all this is going on in the miser's reception room, 
 Leah's ear is at the wall, and drinks in every syllable. 
 
 After the lady has revealed to him the whole of that 
 diabolical plot, as devised by herself and that arch-machin- 
 ator, Mrs. Murray, she takes from her pocket a splendid 
 porte-monnaie, and opening it discloses to the miser its con- 
 tents. And now behold those little, gleaming, serpent- 
 like eyes, those sharp catamount teeth, which are, from 
 some spasmodic affection of the lips, always visible ; ever 
 and anon he licks out his tongue over his lips, like a cat, 
 and clutches his claw-looking fingers convulsi vely together, 
 as if feeling for something between them. The lady looks 
 on with an amused but sinister smile, as she continues to 
 exhibit note after note, and piece after piece of gold coin 
 
280 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 — just as a cat toys with and enjoys the fright and tor- 
 ture of the poor little mouse. 
 
 Faggot has glared fiercely on that display of gold, until 
 his little fiery eyes have become inflamed. At last she 
 takes from the case a fifty dollar gold piece, poises it 
 between her fingers f^r a moment, eyeing him maliciously, 
 then putting it back closes the purse with a loud click. 
 "By de Got of mine peoplesh, dat is too much !" and 
 springing at her he tries to seize the porte-monnaie. The 
 lady also started to her feet, and for one brief moment 
 they close in a fierce and deadly conflict. 
 
 " What art thou doing, poor old man ? " And in the 
 twinkling of an eye the miser cowers beneath the calm, 
 reproachful look of his daughter. " And thou, lady, why 
 stay here to tempt the fiend thou hast invoked? Away ! 
 thou hast done thine errand ; thy business is ended ; now 
 leave this miserable old man to himself, that he may 
 exorcise, as best he can, the demon which has been raised 
 by thy gold. Go ! I tell thee for thine own good, haste ! 
 If thou hast any to love thee, and for whom thou dost 
 care, then for their sakes, if not for thine own, come not 
 here again ! " 
 
 " And who are you, pray, who thus dare to queen it 
 over me ? Who ever before gave Gertrude Lindsay an 
 order ? " 
 
 " It matters not, lady, who I am, or who thou. art. A 
 moment more and thou hadst been numbered with those 
 that are not. I have saved thy life." 
 
 " From what ? Saved my strong life ; from w T hat ? That 
 poor, feeble, crawling thing? that poor, old man? I 
 could crush him with one hand. Poor, old wretch ! 
 Think you I fear him, or you ? I have that old Jew dog 
 in my power. I could hang him to-morrow, an I would 
 condescend to meddle with such garbage." 
 
 " Lady, thou deceivest thyself in all things. Thou 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 281 
 
 knowest not with whom thou dost tamper. Thou hast 
 had the indiscretion, on two or more occasions, to leave 
 thy high aristocratic name, on little scraps of paper, with 
 the old 4 Jew dog,' which had brought thee to judgment ere 
 this, but for me ; and now let me tell thee proud lady, 
 when that poor, despised Israelite is dragged before a 
 court of justice thou shalt meet him there ; for thou and 
 thy accomplice, the old lady, are both compromised, irre- 
 mediably committed with that old 1 Jew dog.' And as to 
 thee matching thy strength with his, I should grieve to 
 see it. Look at thy delicate hands and wrists, and judge 
 whether he whom thou seest so bowed now, is always so 
 feeble." 
 
 She removed her gloves, raised her sleeves, and found 
 that her skin was bruised and torn in some places, and 
 the blood ready to burst from under her nails. For a 
 moment she looked like a tigress ; but that expression 
 faded, and she turned to the Jew with something of a 
 conciliatory tone, and said : 
 
 " Mordecai, I do not consider this compact shaken, or 
 at all events it is not broken by this outrage. I hold you 
 to it, and will now pay you the amount stipulated." Then 
 turning to Leah, said, " Girl, I owe this man a certain 
 sum of money, which I shall now pay over to him ; " and 
 while she counted it, Leah stood between her and the 
 miser. As she handed it to him, she said, 
 
 "Make sure of your work this time, Faggot; let there 
 be no more failures, and I will quadruple that sum." 
 
 " Yes, mine lady, I is going to try dis time to close de 
 matter." 
 
 " Away, away," said Leah, with an impatient wave of 
 the hand, " if thou hast any regard for the safety of thy 
 fair face and reputation, tarry no longer. Wouldst thou 
 like to be found in secret conclave with Mordecai Fa^ot, 
 the Jew peddler, Jew dog? " 
 
 The haughty beauty and belle cast a look of defiance 
 24 
 
282 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 on the muffled and veiled girl ; but at that moment she felt 
 a degree of respect and deference for that unknown per- 
 son, such as she had never experienced for any living 
 creature, save Murray. When she had departed, Fag- 
 got turned on his daughter, and cursing her between his 
 ground teeth, commanded her to leave the room. 
 
 " My father, be not wroth at thy poor child ; she has 
 but done the behest of her sainted mother ; only obeyed 
 thy wife, and saved thee from imbruing thy hands in 
 blood, insane old man as thou art." She picked up the 
 letter which Gertrude had dropped, and disappeared. In 
 it was inclosed that warning written by herself. 
 
 The miser, after making the door fast, and touching the 
 counter-spring, unlocks the old trunk and secretes the 
 money. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 " Memories on memories ! to my soul again 
 
 There come such dreams of vanished love and bliss, 
 That my wrung heart, though long inured to pain, 
 Sinks with the fullness of its wretchedness." 
 
 M Here are few of the unpleasantest words that ever blotted paper." 
 
 Myra sat in her neat little sitting-room, with Clarence 
 in her arms. The beautiful boy had been slightly sick 
 for a few days, and the kind-hearted Mr. Gooch had 
 brought him home, as he said, to recuperate. 
 
 " Madam, I leave my little friend with you in trust, 
 until he thinks himself better. I believe he has been 
 somewhat homesick of late. Allow me again to reiterate 
 my readiness to serve you at all times." 
 
 On passing Doctor Brown's, he called and requested the 
 doctor and his lady to drop in incidentally, and see Mrs. 
 Wise. 
 
 Myra and the old lady are taking their tea. There is 
 no longer any appearance of pinching want ; they do not 
 now, as once, sit down to empty dishes, merely for form 
 sake. Times have greatly changed for the better with 
 our friends since first we met them. A gentle rap at the 
 door. Clarence meets them, and is caught up in the arms 
 of dear Gabe. 
 
 " Why, Master Clarens, God bless the boy ! how he 
 grows and improves." 
 
 " Aweel, after all, I can na think staging is sae bad for 
 a bairn, grand am." 
 
284 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 The old lady moves about the room without taking 
 any notice of this remark. At last she turns, " What's all 
 that you've got in your arms, Minny ? " 
 
 "Not o'er much of ony thing, but just a wee bit pres- 
 ent for the distinguished Master Clarens." 
 
 "Ah, let me see it, aunt Minny." 
 
 " Weel, my bonny bairn, sit down in that little chair, 
 and I'll gie it to ye." 
 
 So Minny unrolled her little Dot of a baby, Myra the 
 second, and placed her in his lap. Then what glee, and 
 gladness, and fun, and frolic they kept up over that lit- 
 tle, plump, white child. The little thing laughs and coos, 
 and throws her little arms up, and knocks her little 
 balls of fists together. But when the baby -girl first of 
 all takes the boy's hand and carries it to her mouth, as 
 all babies will do, then their mirth knows no bounds. 
 The doctor declares that, woman like, she has commenced 
 coquetting at once. 
 
 And thus it was that Clarence forgot that he came home 
 to be sick, and Myra feeling no longer alarmed, forgot to 
 be gloomy, and the old lady, who was pleased with all 
 things as they came, except the theater, after having 
 placed everything nicely away and covered up the little 
 tea-table for breakfast, took her knitting, which was a little 
 pink sock intended for that same said little baby, and 
 seating herself in front of the merry group, commenced 
 rocking with an easy, undulating motion. She laughed 
 so heartily at their nonsense that she was forced frequently 
 to take off her spectacles and wipe them, they kept grow- 
 ing so misty. 
 
 Oh what a happy reunion was that ! How little of such 
 simple, pure, unalloyed enjoyment falls to the lot of many 
 of us. The whole secret of it was, they loved one another. 
 We are told that love constitutes the employment and 
 enjoyment of the angels and blessed spirits in heaven. 
 Then may we not think that the nearest we can approach 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 285 
 
 to the condition of these superior beings is to love ? Love 
 God first, and then love one another with all the ability 
 which He has given us; and this, methinks, creates beati- 
 tude on earth. 
 
 The little negro had been sent to the post office, for even 
 the destitute and apparently forgotten inmates of that 
 cottage expected a letter. It was late when the girl 
 returned ; but she brought a letter. Myra seizes it, and 
 looking at the superscription, turned deadly pale. She 
 tears it from the envelop, and reads. It w^as penned 
 neatly, without any apparent trepidation. 
 
 " Mrs! Wise — Excuse me, Madam, if I am too blunt 
 when I tell you that your w r arning note came too late, 
 a little too late. I received it last night. I have also 
 penetrated your disguise too late. I know that you 
 are Marianna Glencoe, whom I once loved, and for so 
 many years have thought dead. But Marianna, or Myra, 
 time makes strange changes with us, and in us. I could 
 not have believed it. Seven years ago I could not 
 have sat down so calmly to inform you of my marriage, 
 which will take place four days from this time. Marianna, 
 we loved then; but we were young and tender: you 
 twelve and I just eighteen. How could we expect con- 
 stancy from children ? 
 
 " Good bye. Yours, respectfully, 
 
 " C. Conrad Murray." 
 
 " P. S. I advise you to follow my example as quickly as 
 convenient. Shake otf the old shackles, which clog. 
 
 "C. CM." 
 
 With a deep groan she dropped the open letter, and 
 falling back in her chair, cried out, " O God ! Thou 
 knowest that I do not deserve this from him ! My 
 heavenly Father ! help me now in mine extremity ! 
 There ! my friend, read it, and tell me if you think I 
 merit this insult ? Had one come from the dead, or an 
 
286 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 angel from heaven, and said this of — of — my — my — of 
 Col. Murray, I would have pronounced it a slander." And 
 she burst into wild paroxysms of grief and lamentation. 
 " I did not think it of him ! What have I ever done but 
 love him? Ah yes ! so tenderly." 
 
 " Nor do I believe it," said Doctor Brown. "There are 
 other clever ones in that house beside my friend Murray." 
 
 " But, Doctor, it is his hand writing. I know it. Alas ! 
 I know it too well ! Would to God I did not ! " 
 
 The child hung about his mother's neck, mingling his 
 tears with hers, trying to soothe her by kisses, and many 
 assurances of love ; but all in vain. The old lady quotes 
 Scripture, and entreats her to calm herself. But Myra 
 became the more impatient. 
 
 At length Minny says : " Let her alone, grandam ; this 
 grief maun have its way." 
 
 The Doctor took from his pocket a letter, and after 
 comparing them carefully, said with a groan : " Well ; I 
 give it up. I am as much deceived and almost as much 
 grieved as yourself. Here, wife, compare these characters, 
 and see if you can find a flaw." 
 
 Minny took the letter written by Murray to Brown, 
 and the one to Myra ; examined them side by side, but 
 she could see no difference. Still she continued to say — 
 " I canna think it. I wdllna yet gie it up. If Colonel 
 Murray were to come himsel' and swear to't, I wadna 
 think he tauld the truth. And now friends, mind what 
 poor little weak Minny Brown tells ye : Just so sure as 
 the good and great God, who made that gentle moon 
 which is to light us hame, is pure and holy, just so sure is 
 Col. Murray an honest man, and a gude ane. He never 
 writ that insulting letter." 
 
 " O my God ! Minny, I know that hand-writing," 
 pointing to the superscription. " I have reason to know 
 it. It is engraven on my heart. I can never forget it, 
 through time and eternity." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 287 
 
 "Well; I can't help a' that: but he never writ that 
 letter." 
 
 It was now agreed that Doctor Brown should leave his 
 wife with poor Myra. The whole of that long night she 
 wept, and sometimes tried to pray ; but she never got 
 beyond " O Lord pity me, and forgive him ! Have 
 mercy, Lord ! " And then she would choke up. 
 
 After awhile, when she thought they were all asleep, 
 she crept from her bed, and taking out her book wrote for 
 a long time. Minny thought that pouring out her grief 
 to her friendly journal would relieve her; but finding that 
 she only grew the more agitated, the good little soul got 
 up, and throwing her arms around the neck of the poor 
 sufferer, they wept together. 
 
 " Aweel, my dear, you mustna greet sae ! I canna per- 
 mit it langer. Myra my love, my sweet sister, good will 
 come o' this yet. You maun trust God, and the blessed 
 Saviour ! Lean on him. He, only, never deceives. Come, 
 Myra, let us kneel and prostrate our souls before him." 
 And this humble and pure-hearted creature prayed fer- 
 vently, but simply and earnestly, that all might eventuate 
 in good for the parties. When they rose from their knees, 
 they both felt comforted. 
 
 " Dear Minny, there is a fearful mystery hanging 
 over me." 
 
 "I know it, dear; ye hae tauld me sae before; but 
 when ye could have had it cleared up, ye wad not, and 
 now ye maun look above for consolation." 
 
 " Dear friend, listen to me. I have long wished to 
 make you acquainted with those secrets; that I might 
 claim your sympathy and counsel, and may be benefited 
 by your prayers ; if you should think it worth while to 
 pray for such a poor benighted thing as I am." 
 
 " Hush ! Hush ! Doubt not. You should trust to God's 
 promises." 
 
 So they sat there all night — sometimes reading the 
 
288 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 journal, and sometimes weeping. It was daylight when 
 Myra concluded the narrative. 
 
 " This is a wild, thrilling story, my love, but it will a' 
 come right. I have faith to believe it; and I tell ye, 
 now, that that auld Mrs. Murray is at the head and foot 
 o' a' the mischief, and sooner or later will be brought to 
 shame and sorrow. Come entrust your cause to the 
 tender, compassionate Jesus ! Dear suffering soul ! I 
 love you ten thousand times mair since I have heard o' 
 your errors. Puir dear ! ye ha' been too sairly tempted. 
 God will excuse you, and bless you at last." 
 
 Then Minny dressed herself, and taking up the child, 
 rolled it up like a bundle of dry goods, took an affection- 
 ate leave of all, and went to her own home. 
 
 After breakfast, when the doctor called, he found poor 
 Myra sitting just where he had left her the night before. 
 
 " Come, come ! This will never do. I can not have 
 such carryings on. I will not stand such foolishness. You 
 must go to sleep." 
 
 She shook her head mournfully. 
 
 " Shake not your head at me," said the little man, with 
 a "mock tragic air." "Has she taken any breakfast, 
 madam ? " turning to the old lady. 
 
 t£ Oh, no, I could not even get her to look at it." 
 
 "Well, maybe she'll not look at this, either." 
 
 He mixed a potion and forced her to drink it ; after 
 which he took her in his arms, as he would have done 
 his own little Myra, and without saying a word, laid her 
 in the bed, and covered her up carefully. During this 
 scene which has, doubtless, appeared unfeeling, this good, 
 kind-hearted man, was forced several times to turn away 
 and wipe his eyes. 
 
 The next day Murray received the answer to his tender, 
 impassioned letter to Myra, which was, as the reader has 
 seen, forged by the same evil spirits, and he, like that 
 poor lady, was completely deceived. He saw, as he 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 289 
 
 thought, her well-known handwriting before him. He did 
 not dream of fraud — at least he never thought of traitors 
 in his own household. He contemplates those familiar, 
 and once loved characters ; but what pen can paint the 
 disappointment, the mortification, and keen anguish of 
 soul, which has come upon that strong man, and makes 
 him even as a little child? Grief has subdued that proud 
 spirit. 
 
 And now, behold him walking to and fro in his room, 
 with such languid step, and mournful look. He speaks 
 in a low, plaintive voice, soliloquizing : O God ! then 
 there is no trust to be put in any of thy creatures ! No 
 faith, no hope ! Two days ago, had a man told me this, 
 I would have felled him to the earth for uttering the foul 
 blasphemy. And now, what a change ! Yet I do love 
 her " said he, stopping and folding his arms in a quiet, 
 meek manner. " Yes, I do love her, even now, when she 
 has so disdainfully spurned me. I call God to witness 
 that / have never been false to her. True was I, even to 
 her memory ! When I thought her dead, still did I cher- 
 ish her image in my heart, making the one green spot, 
 amid that arid waste, which was watered and kept alive 
 by my tears. O Marianna ! Thou hast now destroyed 
 all chance of happiness for me in this world. Yet I love 
 thee, and still I pity thee ! Poor girl ! Poor ' stricken 
 deer.' The herd will flee from thee, then where wilt thou 
 find a bosom to shelter thee like this ! I wrote that 
 nothing but her own positive rejection of me, or the arm 
 of Omnipotence, should stay me in my search. Oh, my 
 love ! my bride ! my mfe, in the sight of heaven ! thou 
 hast pierced thy lover to the soul! Would to God I 
 knew where to find her! Even now, discarded, spurned, 
 maybe scorned, I would still kneel and implore her to 
 receive me, and if not, then in mercy to tell wherefore." 
 He takes out the letter again and reads : 
 25 
 
290 THE NldHT WATCH. 
 
 " Mr. Conrad Murray — Why, sir, do you not let me 
 rest in peace ? Why not suffer me to remain unmolested 
 in the obscurity I have chosen ? Would you pursue me 
 to the shades of death? Have you not caused me misery 
 enough ? Do you wish to embitter the days that are left 
 me for rejDentance and prayer? Would you destroy that 
 serenity which heaven has vouchsafed to me, and not see- 
 ing you to tempt, I have learned to enjoy? I tell you, 
 Conrad, we must never meet. There is a great gulf 
 between us, greater than you know of. So leave me in 
 peace. I will never see you again ; I do not wish it. Had 
 I desired this meeting, I would have made myself known 
 to you when I sat by your side, and hung upon your arm. 
 Farewell, forever. Marianna Glencoe." 
 
 u Ah yes, Marianna, thou didst indeed hang upon this 
 arm heavily, heavily, as if overcome by the weight of thy 
 own loving heart. O God ! I felt that heart beat against 
 mine, and it seemed as if it would break the bounds of its 
 prison house, to meet the wild responsive throb. There 
 was no dissimulation then ; that was nature asserting her 
 supremacy. But now she says, alas ! what does she not 
 say? Surely she has dipped her pen in gall. Marianna, 
 thou art strangely altered." He again reads and repeats 
 slowly and emphatically, " I will never see you again ; I 
 do not wish it." Well, I would not thrust myself into 
 heaven even, unwished for. I presume I can live 
 through this, too. We have an allotted number of years 
 to suffer, and toil, and rest, and play the fool, and sin, 
 and repent ; and then comes the end. When my cup is 
 full, and I have achieved my destiny, then God will do 
 with me as seemeth him best. Till then, I will yield 
 myself, and float down with the current on the turbid 
 stream of time. Presently, I shall be swallowed up in 
 that great gulf, and shall be seen, and maybe remembered 
 no more among men forever." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 291 
 
 He wrapped himself up in his cloak and walked out. 
 He was invoking his former aids to come to his assist- 
 ance. Pride, that almost curse of his race, where art 
 thou now ? Why dost thou hang back thus ? Thy slave 
 needs thee ; come, put forth thy support. Alas ! Mari- 
 anna has murdered pride in that heart. Philosophy, thy 
 specious arguments do but teach endurance, patience, a 
 proud sort of self-satisfied submissiveness, a self-glorifica- 
 tion in the pow T er to endure and defy, but do not heal 
 the wound. 'Tis but cicatriced, and the deep sore still 
 festers beneath. 
 
 What is it, then, poor maimed wayfarer ? what dost 
 thou need ? Thy sick soul yearns for sympathy, for love. 
 Aye, for love ! Start not ; love has been thy bane, and 
 love must be thy antidote. But love wisely the next time. 
 Set not up in thy heart an idol to rival God. Worship 
 not the creature, forgetting the Creator. u Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy God with all thy strength, heart, and 
 mind. Thou shalt have no other gods before me." How 
 is it with thee, proud man, when the still, small voice is 
 whispering these truths to thy troubled soul ? Dost thou 
 relent? Wilt thou now tear away that image, and give 
 thy heart to God ? He thinks he would. He feels that 
 he desires to understand, and would like to appropriate 
 these important truths. " Son, give thy heart to God." 
 
 Then he exclaims in anguish, " O that I had some one 
 to whom I could trust to show me the way." The still, 
 small voice whispered, " Stay thy soul on Christ, learn of 
 him ; thou needest no other teacher. Son, give thy heart 
 to God." That rebellious heart answers, " Oh ! I love 
 her yet. Tear her image from my heart, and the myste- 
 rious principle of life is gone." 
 
 It has grown late, but he does not heed it. Many a lit- 
 tle star has begun to twinkle and adorn the spacious fir- 
 mament, yet he does not see them. He at last rouses up, 
 and finds himself in that portion of the city where our 
 
292 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 story opens. He stops for one moment, and muses before 
 that window. Again that tall girl so closely veiled passes 
 by ; he has seen her at every turn, but his thoughts are 
 in no condition to be affected by externals. 
 
 As he moves along, his eyes fixed on the ground, he is 
 startled by a burst of rude, coarse mirth. On looking 
 around, he perceives a knot of youths on the left ; they 
 are amusing themselves at the expense of an old woman 
 who has fallen to the ground. She was coming from the 
 market, with a heavy basket of provisions just purchased, 
 when her foot became entangled in the snare set by those 
 brewers of mischief, and she falls heavily, her articles of 
 marketing strewing the dirty earth. 
 
 When Murray approached, he found the old lady strug- 
 gling to extricate herself. She could not rise without aid, 
 which greatly increased their uproarious shouts of mirth 
 and ribaldry. 
 
 " Shame, shame on you ! dogs, puppies, cur dogs ! 
 where have you been bred that you could do such a deed, 
 and then gloat over it ? " He then very tenderly assisted 
 the old lady to her feet, commanding one of the boys to 
 gather up the contents of the basket ; and now perceives 
 that they are all inebriated. 
 
 Looking mournfully down on them, he says, " Go home, 
 go home and sleep. To-morrow call at the office of Charles 
 Murray. I have something of importance to say to you 
 then." A sudden jerk of the arm which had been drawn 
 through his, makes him look inquiringly into the face of 
 the old lady, but he sees naught expressed there but suf- 
 fering. That name had caused the shock. 
 
 " I fear, good mother, you are injured ? Did I move 
 you too roughly ? Pardon me, I did forget," and taking the 
 basket on his arm, he said, u I will see you home, madam." 
 
 u Oh no, sir ! I can not tax one like you. Pray, do not 
 trouble yourself. G-ive me the basket and accept my 
 warmest thanks for this timely aid." She attempts to 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 293 
 
 withdraw her arm, and holds out her hand to receive the 
 basket. 
 
 " Then, do you reject my protection? Oh, what has 
 come over the world ! " 
 
 u Oh no, sir. I could go down on my knees to thank 
 you. But what have the rich, and the proud, and the 
 high, and the grand to do with the humble, suffering poor?" 
 
 u I admit that they have not half so much to do with 
 them as they should have ; but 1, not laying claim to any 
 of these possessions, will, whether you consent or not, 
 protect you home. See, even now, those poor infatuated 
 creatures, are waiting to pursue their orgies. They are 
 drunk, and did I leave you they would wreak their ven- 
 geance on you, for having been despoiled of their sport." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! G-od sees, and will reward this good action. 
 I do not know how to thank you." And the old lady wept. 
 
 M Good mother, you just now spoke of God. Would 
 that I knew more of Him than is taught in the lofty edi- 
 fices reared by man, more to gratify his own vainglorious 
 pride, than to honor the great Builder of the Universe. 
 Would that I could feel his presence sometimes, without 
 fear ! But I am awestruck when I contemplate that all- 
 pervading, almighty Essence. I almost fear to invoke 
 his spirit." 
 
 The old lady was now all alive. The conventional bar- 
 riers were broken down, and they meet on equal grounds. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I am so glad to hear you say so ; " and taking 
 his small, white, jeweled hand in her poor, coarse, wrin- 
 kled one, she turned her dim eyes, which, are now soft 
 and humid, to him, and said, " Oh, sir, can one so lowly as 
 I am, teach you ? Surely, you do mock me ? " 
 
 " Ah no ! good mother ; could you look into this heart, 
 as God is looking into it even now, you would pity me." 
 
 " And God will pity you, sir. JSTone of us are so ready 
 to pity one another, as ' our Father in heaven ' is." 
 
 u Alas ! I am afraid. He seems to be so immeasurably 
 
294 
 
 THE NIGHT W ATC H . 
 
 removed from me. He is so great, and pure, and holy, 
 and I am so vile and abject." 
 
 " Dear friend, you must seek him through his Son. 
 None of us dare approach a justly offended God, but 
 through our friend in heaven, who is always waiting to 
 present our petitions to his and our Father." 
 
 " But are they not the same ; one and the same ? " 
 
 11 Ah ! ask me not of such subtleties. I deal not in them. 
 Mine is the simplest of all creeds." 
 
 u Then tell me of it, and let me embrace it at once." 
 
 " It is said that, < we shall be taught from the mouths of 
 babes and sucklings,' " said she; "and weak, and unskilled 
 as I am in theology, I can still testify to the love of Christ 
 in the soul, which casteth out all fear, and doubt, and 
 darkness. You would no doubt think, sir, that one like 
 me, old, halt, and almost blind, and very poor in this 
 world's gear, would have little cause for rejoicing. But, 
 my friend, I sometimes feel such fullness of joy, such per- 
 fect love to Christ, and to the Father, and to our fellow- 
 travelers here below, that like Paul, I am caught up to 
 the third heaven." 
 
 " But, mother, I have heard that this sort of ecstacy, this 
 state of beatitude, if you will, does not last, and that the 
 poor worm is furnished with wings to soar for a short 
 while, then is suffered to fall again to earth." 
 
 " I know nothing of this. True, I do not always see 
 God's countenance unclouded ; but, as the hymn says, 
 sometimes, 
 
 ' Behind a frowning providence, 
 He hides a smiling face/ 
 
 But my friend, the love of Christ sufficeth us. And day 
 by day, come w^eal or woe, as long as I keep alive the 
 Divine spark, I am happy. If we have but a crust in the 
 house, I munch it in thankfulness. If the fire goeth out, 
 and the larder shelves are empty, I know that God's store- 
 house is the earth, and the fullness thereof. His supplies 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 295 
 
 have never failed me. I never fear that they will fail me. 
 I tell you, my friend," and again she pressed his hand, 
 " that he never slumbers or sleeps, for watching over the 
 fold. Even now, when my poor old crippled feet were 
 entangled in the snare set for the unwary, did he not send 
 succor? I am not injured. You were his agent, and well 
 have you discharged your duty." 
 
 Murray is much moved, but remains silent. 
 
 " Once before," continued the old lady, " I experienced 
 the special care of the Good Shepherd. Soon after we 
 came to this city, and after a week of unprecedented 
 hardship, privation and suffering, we were relieved at the 
 last hour by an unexpected hand. The sweet Sabbath 
 dawned on our renovated hopes and grateful hearts. I 
 took my little grandson, having attired ourselves in the 
 best clothes we had, and went to one of those stately 
 structures of which you have just been speaking. On 
 arriving I applied to the sexton for a seat; he glanced 
 curiously at our poor garments, which were the best to be 
 found in poverty's wardrobe, and then in a supercilious 
 way pointed to the mendicant's corner. Well, friend, I 
 did not go there to beg, but to offer thanksgivings for 
 mercies. So I would not take the seat. I know not what 
 chance led me to that aristocratic pew ; but we had 
 scarcely gotten through the first prayer, when a magnifi- 
 cent-looking woman, covered up in fine raiment and furs, 
 came, and ordered me out. I got up and moved down 
 the aisle, intending to take a seat on the floor, that I 
 might pray for the proud lady ere I left the temple. 
 Before I reached the door the Good Shepherd sent his 
 angel to me, and I was conducted back by a fine-looking 
 gentleman (so said my little grandson, I did not see him), 
 to a magnificent seat. Well, sir, I prayed for that proud 
 lady ; I prayed for that good gentleman ; I thought I felt 
 the secret intimation that my petitions, sooner or later, 
 would be answered. I have faith, and do believe that the 
 
296 THE NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 arrogant woman will be brought to repentance, and that 
 good man will reap the reward of his good deed." 
 
 Murray is again greatly agitated ; he takes out his 
 handkerchief and wipes his eyes. The plaintive voice, 
 the earnest and sincere manner of the old lady, as she 
 talked of these gospel truths, smote the rock of that 
 proud man's heart, and a fountain of tenderness gushed 
 forth. 
 
 They had now arrived before the door of Myra's cot- 
 tage, and there is an embarrassed pause. 
 
 " Friend, circumstances of a very painful nature forbid 
 my asking you to enter our house, just now." 
 
 " And I could not, if you did ask me, good mother." 
 He gives her the basket, and then she takes his hand and 
 says : 
 
 " Col. Murray, I can not find words to express my 
 gratitude. But it will not always be thus. There is a 
 good spirit at w^ork for you. Trust in that friend whom 
 you, and I, and every living sinner, may claim as his 
 own. He only can make the crooked way straight. 
 ' Trust and wait. 7 " She repeated the last sentence with 
 a very peculiar emphasis. 
 
 When Murray arrives at home, he finds the parlor 
 occupied by a gay group. Gertrude is sitting at the 
 piano ; the Governor and Mr. Gaines are on each side 
 of her. The former hangs over the Siren, and breathes 
 soft, delicious nonsense into her ear ; the latter has folded 
 his arms, and looks on with a calm, untroubled brow — 
 never moving, save to turn the music, as she sings song 
 after song. 
 
 When Gertrude has played her last waltz, and sung 
 her last song, she rises from the instrument, leaving her 
 distinguished lover, and takes her seat by Murray. She 
 inquires after his health with such an ingenuous look of 
 kindness, that he is touched ; looking into her beautiful 
 face (which is, at the moment, apparently free from all 
 
T H E NI9HT W A T C H . 
 
 297 
 
 guile), he discovers nothing in it but passionate love 
 for himself. He presses her hand and whispers, " God 
 forgive me ! I do not deserve such devotion and con- 
 stancy." 
 
 Maj. Lindsay calls for Gertrude ; he had left her there 
 and gone to his club. Some ladies, the Governor, Mr. 
 Gaines, and a few others, had dropped in from their even- 
 ing promenade, on hearing Gertrude's fine voice. 
 
 " Well, daughter, shall we go ? " said he. Murray rises 
 and offers his arm. The Governor steps up — 
 
 " Stop, sir ; I am opposed to a monopoly, as you once 
 said to me." 
 
 While Gertrude is drawing her splendid wrappings 
 about her, some one calls off the attention of the Gover- 
 nor. Old Mrs. Murray has Maj. Lindsay fast by the but^ 
 ton ; Murray has folded his arms, and Mr. Gaines steps 
 up to her, and looking keenly at her, says, " Madam, let 
 me see you home." 
 
 They reach there full one hour before her father comes 
 in. During that time, they are engaged in a conversa- 
 tion, which is so absorbing that they do not see Ann as 
 she passes about, making various pretexts in order to 
 look and listen. 
 
 Presently they hear the Major come in, and Gaines has 
 prepared himself for an angry rencounter of words with 
 his master. Be it remembered that Maj. Lindsay had 
 been to his club. Going to that place sometimes makes 
 a man see too well (double) ; sometimes prevents him 
 from seeing at all (as he should). 
 
 He comes blustering and reeling into the room. See- 
 ing Ann there, he says : 
 
 " See here, girl, where is that d d interloper? that 
 
 long-legged clerk of mine? He came home with Miss — 
 hiccup — Lind — hiccup — say. Where is that son of a — 
 
 hiccup — of — of a hie — d it, I say, where is that 
 
 son of a hie — of a — cup. Where is Gaines? If I find 
 
298 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 him I'll make him — hiccup — I'll — hiccup — leave in 
 short order," and he storms at the negro, who is bursting 
 with suppressed mirth. 
 
 " Marster, does you mean Mas'r Josiah ? He didn't 
 stop no time, nohow, at all. He's bin gwine away, ' long 
 time ago,' as the song says." 
 
 " It is well for them both that he did," says Lindsay ; 
 and he staggers up to Ann, and catches at her. The girl 
 gave a little squeal ; he curses her, and then reels off to 
 bed, hie — hie — hiccuping all the way. 
 
 When Mrs. Murray and her son were left alone, she 
 informed him that the w^edding, to suit the parties, had 
 been hastened a few days: and such a w T edding, and such 
 a fete as that would be, had never before been witnessed 
 
 in the city of . She told him that cards had been 
 
 sent to all the old aristocratic families in the place, and 
 also to other cities. 
 
 He listened to her in moody silence. " Only two days 
 more of freedom ! Well, let it go on, mother. Why bother 
 me with these details?" 
 
 " Eemember, my son, there must be no more disap- 
 pointments;" and she fixed her basilisk eyes on him, 
 while she went on explaining ; but Murray neither saw 
 the look, nor heard the words. 
 
 Presently he got up, and w T alked gloomily across the 
 room. 
 
 H Mother, as I have always told you, arrange these 
 things to please yourself, Gertrude, and Major Lind- 
 say : as to myself, I do not feel that I am a party much 
 interested." 
 
 While all this commotion, bustle, unrest, and discom- 
 fort (in the way of splendid preparations) are going on 
 in the two mansions, Murray alone was quiet. There was 
 a stagnation of feeling — a collapse of the heart — which 
 was worse than acute suffering. He seemed to have 
 resigned himself to his fate. For two whole days before 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 299 
 
 the wedding, he denied himself to every one except his 
 future father-in-law, and his friend, Doctor Brown. 
 
 When the latter entered, he found him as usual, pacing 
 the floor ; he did not indulge in his natural strain of bad- 
 inage, but looked thoughtful and very grave. At last he 
 said, 
 
 " Well, Murray, do you think you will go through with 
 it this time? or shall we have another break-down? " 
 
 " I presume my mother and Gertrude will carry out 
 their projects, now. If not, then God help them and me 
 too. They have been caucussing for such a length of 
 time, and those schemes have been conceiving for" 
 
 "Ah yes!" struck in the doctor, trying to smile, "they 
 must bring forth now T , else there surely will be an entire 
 abortion." 
 
 " I don't know how it will turn out ; I am myself wait- 
 ing for the denouement," rejoined Murray, looking very 
 sad. 
 
 "You are willing then, Conrad, are you? You want 
 this wedding to come olf, do you? " 
 
 " I wish to be at rest. I know no quiet ; have not for 
 over a year." 
 
 " Minny passed last night with Mrs. Wise, who is sick 
 again." (Murray trembles, and averts his face.) "While 
 there, Myra received this letter. She (my wife) is, as well 
 as myself, extremely anxious to know if you are the 
 author of it?" 
 
 Murray seems greatly surprised, and drew himself up 
 haughtily. Doctor Brown takes the letter from his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Col. Murray, is this your handwriting?" presenting it. 
 " Certainly it is, sir," said he, looking at the super- 
 scription. 
 
 " Open it," added Brown. He did so, and glanced 
 carelessly at it, without reading a word ; and just then 
 remembering the disdainful response, said coldly, 
 
300 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 u I wrote that letter, sir, why do you ask ? What more 
 would the lady have ? " 
 
 The Doctor saw that he did not read the letter, and felt 
 vexed at his indifference. Eising abruptly he said, 
 
 " Well ! I must say, it is rather the coolest thing I have 
 yet witnessed. Good morning, sir." 
 
 " Stop a moment," said Murray ; and taking from a 
 basket two cards for the wedding, said, " I hope, sir, you 
 will do me the honor to bring your wife with you? v 
 
 "No sir, no, no sir; from this time, Col. Murray, we 
 are strangers ; " and he laid the cards down on the table 
 and left. 
 
 " Well, that is certainly strange conduct in my old 
 friend ? I do not know what it means," said Conrad. In 
 fact I do not know what anything means. Ere long 1 
 shall not be certain whether I am awake or asleep, dead 
 or alive." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 
 " Fear ye the festal hour ? 
 Aye ! tremble when the cup of joy overflows ! 
 Tame down the swelling heart ! the bridal rose 
 And the rich myrtle flower have veiled the sword." 
 
 A bland and beautiful evening precedes the night of 
 the wedding, but it is dark, very dark, where the gas does 
 not prevail. Maj. Lindsay's mansion looks like a crystal 
 palace. The scene is one of enchantment. 
 
 And now the brilliant crowd is assembling. They come 
 pouring in like a continuous stream. The rooms are full, 
 but not crammed. All are there ; the venerable clergy- 
 man, with his long, graceful gowm, sits ready; the com- 
 pany is ready ; the bride is ready. A slight nervousness 
 seizes upon the guests ; many watches are covertly exam- 
 ined, and the words buzzed through those gorgeous saloons, 
 " Ten o'clock ; past ten o'clock." 
 
 Let us take a short retrospect. At nine, the Governor 
 and the other attendants had called at the mansion of 
 Col. Murray. They sent him word that at half past nine 
 his lady bride would expect him. The carriage was drawn 
 up before the door. 
 
 Soon after this, Mrs. Murray tapped at his door. She 
 found him in his robe de chambre, ensconced in an easy 
 chair, reading. 
 
 " Merciful heavens ! Charles Conrad Murray ! What 
 in the name of God are you doing? " 
 
 " Nothing, madam." 
 
302 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " I see, sir. Are yon crazy ? " 
 
 " I think not, madam. Do you see any symptoms of 
 this calamity? " 
 
 " Is not this your wedding night? " 
 
 " Certainly, madam, I am perfectly aware of that untow- 
 ard circumstance." 
 
 " Then what are you sitting there for, en dishabille? " 
 
 " I was waiting for my lady mother to notify me of the 
 proper hour for everything. Will you not, madam, have 
 all things done according to the most approved and politic 
 plan ? It is not the first time you have done me this 
 honor." 
 
 " I do not wish to hear another word, sir. I would have 
 you get yourself dressed and join your friends in the par- 
 lor ; the Governor and your other attendants are waiting 
 for you below." 
 
 "Are they, madam? Do me the favor, then, to pull 
 the hell-rope there on your right. But will you not be 
 seated, mother? You are looking particularly elegant 
 to-night." 
 
 When the servant came, Murray looked at him list- 
 lessly. u Well, James, your mistress, and my mother 
 wishes me to be dressed gorgeously, no doubt, for this her 
 second marriage. Twice now has she married me off 
 without once gaining my consent." 
 
 " Not yet, Mas'r Charles. She aint not married you up 
 but once yit awhile, and as Tivvy do say, ' Dar's many a 
 cup 'twixt de slip an' de lip; 7 so take heart, Mas'r Charlie; 
 somethin' may turn up yit." 
 
 " Come, James, bestir yourself, man, and let me be 
 ready for whatever it shall be that may turn up." 
 
 James was the very prince of all black valets de cham- 
 bre. So at ten o'clock Col Murray entered the parlor, 
 where his coadjutors had been consoling themselves for 
 the loss of time with an impromptu bottle or two of wine. 
 
 When he came among them, they sent forth the most 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 303 
 
 hilarious shouts and congratulations. They are now 
 admonished by the head and front of all things, Mrs. 
 Murray, that it is time to depart. So the bridegroom 
 offered an arm to his mother, hands her to the carriage, 
 then he and his friends walked, feeling absolute need of 
 fresh air, ere they should be in a condition to face that bril- 
 liant assembly, and that grave and reverend person with 
 black robe and white bands. And now they are there, 
 and the buzzing words have changed to, " They've come, 
 they've come." 
 
 Murray separates himself from his party, and takes his 
 way to Gertrude's boudoir. He finds her arrayed in all 
 her glory, looking very queen-like and beautiful. She is 
 surrounded by her maids of honor. He goes up, kisses 
 her, and in a hurried voice desires her to send a message 
 to the gentlemen. 
 
 They come, and now they descend to the back drawing- 
 room, which has been kept closed up to this time. There 
 they arrange themselves before those great doors, reach- 
 ing quite across the room, which in a moment more slide 
 into the walls as if by magic, and that magnificent bridal 
 party confront that gorgeous company. 
 
 Col. Murray is very pale, but is looking unusually inter- 
 esting and handsome. 
 
 The clergyman meets them, opens the book, has gotten 
 through the preliminaries, and in a few minutes more he 
 
 will have pronounced those thrilling words w^hen a 
 
 loud, prolonged shriek is heard, succeeded by the appall- 
 ing cry of " fire ! " It resounds through the house. Then 
 another shriek, and the cry, " The gas ! the gas ! A gas- 
 pipe has exploded in one of the rooms above, and the 
 atmosphere will ignite," screamed some half-dozen voices. 
 
 Nothing, perhaps, save the "last trump," when it shall 
 sound, will produce a greater panic, or take the world 
 more by surprise. Many rushed shrieking from the room, 
 some threw themselves from the open windows ; nearly 
 
304 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 all tried to precipitate themselves into the street. The 
 parson was overturned in the melee. Poor old Mrs. Mur- 
 ray was upset, and but for the timely aid of some friendly 
 hand, would have had that ingenious piece of frame-work 
 totally demolished. ISTo one now is observing his neigh- 
 bor ; for a season, curiosity is quenched by the stronger 
 passion, fright. 
 
 Murray stood with Gertrude on his arm, like one 
 entranced. Presently, Mr. Gaines whispers in her ear ; 
 then she unclasps her hands from that fond hold, and he 
 leads her away. And now Murray rushes from the room, 
 but not to the street; he goes to see what can be done to 
 save the house. 
 
 When he reaches the hall above, he finds that portion 
 of the mansion in total darkness. What a change, from 
 a moment before ! As he descends, a tall figure, com- 
 pletely muffled, touches his arm, and whispers, " Come, 
 there is nothing the matter here. I am waiting for thee ; 
 follow me quickly, else we shall be too late." 
 
 He instinctively obeys her. She glides rapidly on 
 before him. They leave the house and that quarter of 
 the lighted city, and plunge into darkness. A hundred 
 fire-bells seem to be ringing; an hundred hundred of 
 people seem to be running, and jostling, and falling, and 
 getting up, and crying, and screaming, but all tending in 
 one direction ; and now the engines come rushing and 
 tearing by. 
 
 He has followed the veiled figure without question. 
 Onward, onward they go. And now they come to the 
 scene of action. A cottage, standing a little apart from 
 the other buildings, is on fire. It seems to be too far 
 gone to claim the attention of the red-fiannel-shirted 
 crew, whose efforts are directed to protecting the adjacent 
 buildings. All this was taken in by Murray, at one 
 coup oV ceil. The veiled figure says to him, as she shakes 
 him violently : 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 305 
 
 " Bouse up, now ; thou hast no time to dream ! Plunge 
 into the flames, and save Marianna Glencoe ! " 
 u Great God ! what do I hear ! " 
 
 u Lose no time in idle exclamations or queries. This 
 was her abode. See there ! The good Murdoch is bear- 
 ing out the old lady, and Dr. Brown has the child ; but 
 where is poor Marianna? When thou hast found her, 
 come not this way, for ravening beasts are waiting to 
 seize upon you both ; but come out into the back-court. 
 I will be there to receive you, and bear you to a place of 
 safety. Mind my injunctions ; come not this way." She 
 throws a woolen shawl over his head, and draws it ten- 
 derly about his face, saying, " Poor fellow ! I would shield 
 thee from this, too, an I could, but I must be obeyed to 
 the letter, else all is lost." 
 
 A piercing wail is now heard through the crowd — " My 
 mother ! Where is my mother ? Who will go with me 
 to save my mother?" 
 
 The child was caught up by the veiled figure, and at that 
 moment Murray rushes frantically into the burning pile, 
 and disappears amid reverberating shouts of admiration 
 and groans of horror. u The lady ! the lady ! " is echoed 
 through the crowd; the child has extricated himself from 
 those kind arms, and would have followed Murray, but 
 the figure again seizes him, saying, " Keep still, my 
 darling, they shall save thy mother." 
 
 Scarcely had the flames closed over the head of the 
 poor fellow, before Murdoch comes up to Leah, and whis- 
 pers, "Where is he?" 
 
 She points to the burning pile. " There, gone to save 
 Mari" 
 
 u Great God ! girl, what have you done ! She is not 
 there, and he will perish." Snatching up a blanket, he 
 wraps it about his head, and plunged also into the fire. 
 
 "Now, may the God of Jacob help them both, else are 
 they lost ! " 
 
 26 
 
306 
 
 T II E N J G II T WATCH. 
 
 The girl had not more than uttered this thrilling cry, 
 when the roof fell in, and all is one masss of blazing 
 wood, and soon after a smoldering ruin. 
 
 Then a prolonged groan convulses that crowd, which 
 at last finds vent in the cry of u Oh ! they have perished ! 
 Oh ! most horrible ! Poor fellows, they are lost ! they 
 are burned alive ! " 
 
 Leah gives the child to a bystander, w r ith directions to 
 carry him immediately to Dr. Brown's. Then she darts 
 into the dark alley leading to the back court, where she 
 had placed persons to await her coming. When there, 
 she finds herself quite alone. There is nothing to be 
 seen but flying red-hot fragments and blazing cinders. 
 There is no one waiting for her in that fearful place ; the 
 carriage is not there, as she directed. 
 
 She screams, all brave and enduring as she is, with 
 alarm and anguish. Her shoes, which were silk, are 
 burned from her feet, and now she tramples, barefoot, on 
 red-hot coals. Yet she stands there for several moments, 
 insensible to physical pain ; so utterly overwhelmed is 
 she at the apparent destruction of three persons in whom 
 she w r as so deeply interested : then she turns away, " a 
 puir heart-broken thing." 
 
 The panic at that festive mansion has subsided ; some 
 few persons have had presence of mind and courage to 
 explore the rooms above, and find that the cause of alarm 
 w r as a false one in the main. The accidental, or premedi- 
 tated expenditure of gas had filled the rooms with that 
 noxious stench, which none can inhale long and live. 
 This is all that has yet transpired to the guests below. 
 Those who had ventured in their wedding garments to the 
 place of actual distress, had returned, and reported that 
 it was nothing only a cottage of some poor person — a mil- 
 liner or dressmaker had her house burned down, and had 
 perished herself in the fire. 
 
 " Oh well, if that's all," said the leaders of ton, "then 
 
T II E NIGH T W A T G H . 
 
 307 
 
 let the festivities proceed." The Minister is still there, 
 looking very plaintive and martyr-like since his over- 
 throw from his arm chair. The bride is there, in her 
 vestal robes, so pure and white. The father is there to 
 give her away ; and hundreds of friends, as friends go 
 on such occasions, are there, smiling obsequiously and 
 parasitically, all waiting to offer congratulations, but more 
 specially to enter on the pleasures of the fete. 
 
 " Come, let the ceremony go forward/' said the father, 
 glancing at his watch. "It is now near twelve o'clock, 
 and the repast is yet untasted ; and still worse, but few 
 of those rare juices have been imbibed. Why, friends, 
 we shall scarce have time to test the merits of either table 
 or sideboard. Where is Murray ? Where is my son elect? 
 Murray, Colonel Murray," called the mirth -loving host. 
 " Why, man, come on ; you mar our sports, and delay the 
 festivities, instead of leading the way, and teaching us how 
 to sacrifice in spirit and in snhstavre to the jolly God. I tell 
 you now, sirs, the 'Old Grey-Beard Bacchus' will not be 
 cheated thus, without reprisal." 
 
 "What ho! Murray! Conrad! Charles Murray ! w r here 
 are you, my son? Come, we are waiting to be gracious." 
 
 Major Lindsay passed through the gorgeous scene with 
 an easy careless gait (peculiar to persons who have been 
 always rich), and called on the bridegroom in a jocose 
 voice, and with a merry twinkle of the eye, stopping anon 
 to jest with some congenial chum on the subject. u But 
 he comes not." 
 
 A buzz, a wl isper, a murmured conjecture, swell into a 
 full tide of curiosity, and love of wonder, with the words, 
 "He is not here ; where can he be gone? " One has seen 
 him jump out of the window on the first note of alarm. 
 Another has seen him rush from the street door. Some 
 few saw him stealing up stairs. All saw him standing 
 before the parson, beside his bride : but none saw the 
 truth. None had seen him leave the house by the back- 
 
308 
 
 THE NIGHT WxlTCH. 
 
 door with that tall girl so closely veiled. Yet there was 
 one who did see this. One pair of calm, steel-like grey 
 eyes saw it all. The same hand which drew that beauti- 
 ful bride away from the side of her majestic bridegroom 
 had something to do with the turning on of too much 
 of that noisome fluid. He alone saw Murray leave the 
 house. 
 
 Messenger after messenger is dispatched in all direc- 
 tions, through the long suit of rooms above and below, 
 to his own house, everywhere ; but as yet there is no 
 trace of him. 
 
 In the meantime, the Governor flirts as usual, with Ger- 
 trude. He is again pouring into her ears the insidious 
 language of adulation ; uttering protestations which were 
 as factitious as the hearts of the aristocratic guests, who 
 with the host and the little great man, the clever Gov- 
 ernor, had not failed to attest their devotion to his 
 Godship. 
 
 Miss Lindsay is seated on an ottoman in the center of 
 the room, with a crowd of admirers around her. The big 
 man of the evening is hanging over her, seeming to gloat 
 on her exposed and transparent charms. She is indeed 
 looking delicious. He forgets himself, and in rather too 
 distinct a whisj^er murmurs, " My angel ! you had better 
 reward some one of your faithful servants, and leave that 
 erratic orbitless star to his fate, which must sooner or 
 later explode, or set to rise no more. It is a sin to throw 
 away such charms on that passionless man. He is totally 
 insensible to the value of such a possession." 
 
 O " spirit of wine ! " she owes this to thee. The girl 
 felt what the excited man said. Had he searched through 
 an hundred vocabularies, he could not have found words 
 more suited to her case, or better to embody her senti- 
 ments, as well as so acceptable and soothing to her morti- 
 fied vanity and wounded pride. She looked lovingly up 
 into his face, she inclines her person toward the lascivious 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 309 
 
 little man, she even offers a soft, tender response. Then 
 the Governor whispered something which none could hear, 
 and the lady raised her flushed face and burning eyes to 
 his. 
 
 The inspiring sound of violins is now heard from the 
 dancing saloon, and as the Governor gives his hand to 
 Gertrude to lead her to the floor, she once more encoun- 
 ters the deep, earnest gaze of Mr. Josiah Gaines fixed upon 
 her. Those eyes seem ever to have had a peculiarly pene- 
 trating power. That one steadfast look has probed the hid- 
 den places of that vain, w r eak heart, and brought up the 
 secret. It is written on that blanched cheek, and revealed 
 from those timid, cowering eyes. 
 
 A few cotillions, and as many waltzes, are gotten 
 through with, not trippingly " on the light, fantastic toe," 
 but heavily and mechanically. The genius of mirth 
 seemed to have been frightened away. Nor would Terp- 
 sichore deign to preside over such soulless offerings. 
 Maj. Lindsay gave his arm to Mrs. Murra}', and they lead 
 the way to the banquet. Time will not serve me to tell 
 of all the luxuries and dainty dishes of meats, cakes, 
 confections, fruits, wines, etc. Pyramid upon pyramid 
 of bride's cake rises in stupendous grandeur, as monu- 
 ments now of the uncertainty of all earthly plans, the 
 precarious tenure of all worldly hopes. A whole heca- 
 tomb of birds have been sacrificed. Turkies w 7 hich, from 
 their size, looked as if they might have been patriarchs 
 over many generations of pee-pees, were flanked by gan- 
 ders who had stood sentinel during the halcyon days of 
 many a grey goose, whose heads are all now laid low. 
 Alack-a-day ! this dreadful onslaught : and for what ? 
 To commemorate an event which only goes to confirm the 
 truism, that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. 
 
 The champagne foams and sparkles. Glass after glass is 
 drunk in token of admiration to the goddess of beauty, and 
 in honor of the prince of good cheer. Maj. Lindsay. At last, 
 
310 
 
 T HE N I G H T WATCH. 
 
 the anxious expression of every face seems to be yielding to 
 this genial influence. The somber demon has been exor- 
 cised, and in his stead reigns a spirit of mad mirth — a 
 simultaneous desire to indulge deeply, unsparingly, reck- 
 lessly in pleasure : a unanimous disposition to banish care 
 is now manifest, and well have many of them succeeded. 
 Already are they oblivious of that which should have 
 marred such unholy orgies. But the audience had been 
 despoiled of the play, the pageant, in the way laid down 
 in the programme, and now the reaction is taking place 
 
 " This is certainly a very brilliant, joyous, hilarious, and 
 rather too uproarious assembly of wit, beauty, and non- 
 sense," said the calm, dignified Doctor Mercer, alias the 
 parson, to his wife, as they stood apart from the revel, 
 and looked on in silent amazement. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the lady, " what children ! In the exciting 
 bowl they have already forgotten the missing bridegroom." 
 
 "Hist! hist! listen! What sound is that?" . 'Not 
 louder at first than the buzzing of the drowsy insect, but 
 it swells. Why is there a suspension of all pursuit ? Why 
 are those delightful little giggles suppressed? — those 
 whispered vows of love in beauty's ear, and the respon- 
 sive protestation breathed up to luxuriant moustache and 
 whiskers ? Why are they arrested ? Why is that cup 
 dashed before it reaches the lips ? And above all, w T hy is 
 that sweet morsel which has been rolled under the tongue 
 so impatiently for the last hour, that piece of honeycomb, 
 that delightful little scandal, forgotten ? Why that shriek, 
 and that sinking form? That indistinct murmur has 
 again formed itself into words, which have reached the 
 ears of the mother — her son is dead. Col. Murray was 
 seen to rush into the blazing pile, which soon after became 
 a mass of living fire. There had been no chance for 
 escape ; he had perished. 
 
 Mrs. Murray's lifeless body was borne to her own dwell- 
 ing, and a message dispatched for the family physician, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. * 311 
 
 Doctor Gabriel Brown. In the meantime, while Tivvy 
 and James are hanging over their mistress, and a few 
 persons, either out of compassion for human suffering 
 -generally, or maybe idle curiosity, are trying to restore 
 the imperious old woman, let us return to the festive hall. 
 
 On hearing this stunning report, the Governor, who 
 really was attached to Murray, left Gertrude standing at 
 the table, the glass of champagne raised, but untasted, 
 and hastened out to learn more fully of this horror. All 
 eyes are now turned on the bride. She does not shriek, 
 she does not faint, she utters no word ; she is very pale, 
 and her eyes are distended and glaring. There she 
 stands, so beautiful and statuesque. Horror seems to have 
 frozen her. Those terrible words have surely petrified her. 
 She moves not, speaks not, does not so much as breathe a 
 sigh. Every one views her with amazement, but none care 
 enough for the haughty beauty to put forth a finger to 
 touch and rouse her from that catalepsy. 
 
 Major Lindsay had also left the house, perhaps like the 
 Governor, to make assurance doubly sure by being a wit- 
 ness of the dreadful spectacle. They doubted not that 
 the charred and mutilated body of the glorious Murray 
 would be wrested from the fire ere it was consumed. All 
 is commotion and noise in that banquet room. 
 
 Mr. Gaines steps up to Miss Lindsay, touches her arm, 
 and taking the glass from her hand, says, " Madam, had 
 you not better retire ? ,? 
 
 i: Sir?" said she, looking vacantly in his face. 
 
 " I say, would it not be pleasanter to withdraw from 
 the rude gaze of the curious?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, said she, looking around timidly ; u but 
 where is Gov. ; he is to meet me at three" 
 
 " Silence, madam ; would you furnish more food for 
 gossip? " 
 
 He took her hand, and led her from the place like a 
 child. When they were in the adjoining room, he rang 
 
312 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 the bell furiously. Ann came in ; lie whispered to her 
 for some time, then said, " Do not on your life, Ann, leave 
 her a moment, or admit any one to her, not even her 
 father, unless forced to it, till I come. Now, girl, remem- 
 ber. Aye! Kemember ! " He repeated this word in a 
 voice as solemn and ominous as did poor Charles the 
 First. After which, he spoke out in a loud, careless 
 tone — 
 
 "Ann, conduct Miss Lindsay to her room," and 
 turned away. 
 
 The company had now dispersed ; a neighboring clock 
 rung out three ; Mr. Gaines alone remained. As he strode 
 through those gorgeous, but desolate rooms, he uncon- 
 sciously hums, " Oft in the stilly night." Then looking 
 around, moodily folds his arms and sings while he 
 walks, smiling sardonically — 
 
 "I feel like one who treads alone, some banquet hall deserted; 
 Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, 
 And all but me departed/-' 
 
 Then hearing some one enter, he ensconces himself behind 
 a folding door, and curiously peers out. 
 
 Major Lindsay comes in, throws himself into an arm 
 chair, covers his face w T ith his hands, and weeps. After 
 indulging this silent grief, he adds : "Poor fellow! poor 
 Murray ! To be cut off thus in his prime ! To be sepa- 
 rated from his bride just then ! Ah yes ! he obeyed the 
 summons, and 'left his bride at the altar.' And for 
 what ? To immolate himself to an abstract principle of 
 good. What was that milliner woman to him ? Nothing ! 
 But universal philanthrophy prompted him to all good 
 deeds. O my son ! my noble, my magnanimous son ! I 
 shall never, never again, see thy equal ! Never again find 
 one to fiil thy vacant place in this heart." He smites his 
 breast. "Poor Gertrude! poor girl ! poor bereaved bride ! 
 in my own selfish grief, I had forgotten thy greater sor- 
 row 7 ! Poor thing, I almost fear to see thee ! " 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 313 
 
 He rises, and takes a few turns through the rooms; 
 sometimes almost touching Mr. Gaines. Then exclaims 
 in a very sad voice, " Well ! I will go to poor Gertrude ; 
 I will say what I can to comfort her ! Perchance I may 
 hit upon the right words. If not, then we can mingle 
 our tears together.'' He leaves the room. 
 
 No sooner had he gone than Josiah rings a small hand 
 bell, and Eobert enters. 
 
 " Well, Eobert, what news?" 
 
 " Not much, sir ; I did as you told me/' 
 
 "Well." 
 
 " I followed the Governor down thar." 
 " Well." 
 
 " Then I followed him back, but he could'nt hardly 
 walk, sir." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, Eobert, you played your part well.? 
 
 " Yes, sir, I put all that morphinous stuff in the bottle 
 of sherry, as you told me to ; then I set it right on the 
 sideboard, whar I know'd Marster and the Governor 
 would come to swig it, and so they did sure 'nough. But 
 Marster perfers champagne hisself, and the Governor 
 does love sherry, and that's the fact. Well! I declare, 
 Marster Josiah, I thought the man was gwine to go fast 
 asleep on the ground, when he stood there, with his eyes 
 fast shut, gazing on that burning house." 
 
 " Well, what now?" 
 
 "Well, that's all." 
 
 " Why, did you leave him standing there?" 
 
 u Oh no, sir; I tetched him on the arm, and tetching my 
 hat at the same time, I axed him ef he hadn't better go 
 home ? And as you told me, I enquired ef he warnt gwine 
 back to see Miss Guttrude? Then he cuss me, and say, 
 1 Eobert, what the devil do I want with your Miss Gut- 
 trude or any other gal in my condition ? ' I say to him, 
 ' She 'spects you, sir.' Then he say, 1 Expects hell fire : I 
 don't doubt ft, knave. But I'm not going, and more than 
 • 27 
 
314 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 that, I never meant to go.' Then he cuss me, and drive 
 me off. Then he call me back, and he say, £ Here, my 
 good Robert, take this dollar, and when you go home, tell 
 your young mistress that I am very sick, mighty sick. 1 
 Then he stumble long, till he git to the 'zecutive mansion, 
 and that's the last of that poor man, as I knows of." 
 
 Eobert puts his hand in his pocket and takes out the 
 dollar which the Governor had given him, exclaiming, 
 " Lors a marcy ! bress my soul ! Look a here Mas'r 
 Gaines, this is pure gold! How much is it, Mas'r Joe?" 
 
 "It is only fifty dollars, Eobert." 
 
 " Oh marcy ! Then I must go this minit, and carry it 
 back to him, musn't I Mas'r Gaines ? Would'nt that be 
 right?" 
 
 " Yes, Robert, but you hav'nt time now. Here is another 
 piece like it. And now attend closely to what I am about 
 to tell you : and if you obey me to the letter, and prove 
 trustworthy throughout, it will no doubt lead to your free- 
 dom." Then he explained to the negro very minutely his 
 plans — to which he readily assents. 
 
 " Then put these things a little to rights. Eeduce the 
 light in that burner, and extinguish those in the hall. 
 When you have done all, wait my further orders here. I 
 shall go out for a short time." He left, closing and lock- 
 ing the street door. 
 
 It will be remembered that Maj. Lindsay had left the 
 parlor for the purpose of seeking G-ertrude in her boudoir. 
 When he reached the door, he hesitated, saying to himself, 
 "I'll be cursed if I don't dread it." He knocks softly; 
 then answers to the gentle " Come," by opening the door. 
 He found his daughter standing in the center of the room, 
 as if awaiting him. 
 
 " Ah, poor child ! expecting your father? Waiting for 
 him ? Well, poor girl, you still have one true heart left 
 to love you. Come to your father's arms, and let him tell 
 you how he loves and at the same time pities you." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 315 
 
 "Pities! pities me! Did you use that word, sir? I 
 think he would hardly venture on such an experiment. 
 No, no, my father, he had better not talk of pity to Ger- 
 trude Lindsay. I believe he does love me ; he has told me 
 so a thousand times, and to-night he has again reiterated 
 this, and made honorable proposals, and" 
 
 64 What the devil are you talking about, Gertrude? Have 
 you lost your senses? Who? What, in the fiend's name, 
 do you mean ? 
 
 u Why, sir, may I inquire what you mean ? Not a mo- 
 ment ago, did you not tell me that he loved me, which I 
 have long known ; and when I agree to accept his love, 
 because I spurn his pity, is it thus you rate me? " 
 
 Maj. Lindsay rises from the seat into which he had 
 dropped, and stands before her. 
 
 u Now, once for all, Miss Lindsay, I wish to be informed 
 of the meaning of this enigmatical tirade. Else, I shall 
 be convinced in my mind, that your senses have become 
 unsettled by the great calamity which has fallen upon us ; 
 and must consequently give orders to have you conveyed 
 to the white house upon the hill forthwith, if I am forced 
 so to think." 
 
 " It is thus 1 am forced to think of you, sir. I shall 
 be pleased to be convinced to the contrary. But to con- 
 vince you that I am as sane as ever I was, I will consent 
 to gratify you by a few details of facts. 
 
 " I meant Governor , and it was of him I supposed 
 
 you spoke, when you made that declaration. If not of 
 him, then of whom did you speak ? May I beg to be 
 informed? " 
 
 " Deluded girl ! He cares more for politics and popu- 
 larity, than for ten thousand Miss Lindsays. I spoke of 
 myself." 
 
 The lady looks troubled and disappointed, continues to 
 watch the door, and seems to be all the time in the atti- 
 tude of listening. 
 
316 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Gertrude, I came here to mourn with you. I hoped 
 we might console each other for the ioss of my lamented 
 friend, and your affianced husband. But strange, heart- 
 less girl that you are, I find you already prating about 
 some new lover." 
 
 " Well, and where is the bonny bridegroom, sir? " 
 
 " I hope he is in heaven ere this." 
 
 " Ah ! now, my father, you are the poor, deluded 
 one." 
 
 " Why so ? hundreds of persons saw him rush into the 
 furnace of fire, to save a poor creature whom he did not 
 know or care about, other than from pure benevolence. 
 A poor milliner, I'm told, who " 
 
 u Never mind about being explicit, sir. I know all about 
 it. That woman has been his paramour for years." 
 
 " I don't believe it." 
 
 "It is, nevertheless, true, sir. True as holy writ." 
 
 u Well, what of it? Methinks your woman's heart — 
 that is, if you are a woman, and have a heart — must 
 needs acknowledge the magnanimity of such a deed, and 
 could but mourn over such a catastrophe." 
 
 " Would you have me grieve for one w T ho cares not for 
 me? who has trifled with me — disappointed me? who 
 for years, has wantonly sported with my feelings ? Pre- 
 ferring that humble creature — .that obscure, low-born, 
 unknown woman, to Gertrude Lindsay? I tell you, sir, 
 his heart was never in this marriage ! He never loved 
 me ! He did but yield himself to a necessity! " 
 
 "Fool! What necessity was there? what compulsion 
 could there be, or other motives than love and pride, to 
 marry the heiress of the house of Lindsay? Speak, girl — 
 explain." 
 
 "I have said, sir" 
 
 " Girl, you have not! You dare not look me in the face 
 and tell me that you have laid him under this necessity; 
 or, by all the gods ! I will strangle you where you sit. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 317 
 
 Have you yielded yourself to this man, Gertrude ? " look- 
 ing fiercely at her, and approaching her menacingly. 
 
 She rises with great dignity, and in passing him, says, 
 coldly : 
 
 " Peace ! peace, sir! I am in all things exactly worthy 
 of just such a father. But you have misconceived me. 
 I meant, though, what is most strangely true, Conrad 
 Murray is, from some mysterious cause, so completely 
 under the domination of that skillful piece of patchwork, 
 his detestable old mother, that I believe he would sacri- 
 fice his life, rather than oppose or disobey her. Besides 
 his fortune is broken, and needs propping. He knows 
 that, without some such adjunct, he must, ere long, appear 
 before the world bankrupt. Yet I must do him the jus- 
 tice to say, that this marriage was none of his seeking." 
 And she turns moodily away. 
 
 m Why, then, did you consent to marry him?" 
 ' Because I loved him from the first moment I ever saw 
 him, wildly! madly! absorbingly! idolatrously ! sinfully!" 
 
 " Wretched girl ! How could you love unsought? " 
 
 " Go ask the winds why they blow? why the torrents 
 roar? why wild beasts prowl, and old ocean swells and 
 surges ? Can ye stop and stem their course ? Then no 
 more could I quell the passion which boiled and raged in 
 my heart for that man. They perform their functions 
 and obey their instincts, and thereby fulfill their destinies ; 
 and so shall I mine. Father, leave me alone ! I would 
 sleep." 
 
 " Poor girl ! and he deceived you, when you loved him 
 so much ? Curse him! I'm glad he is burned alive." 
 
 "Now, again, you are at fault, sir. Col. Murray is not 
 dead. Ere the week passes he will be here again. And 
 now, hear me, father ; I swear by all the saints and angels, 
 and all other holy things in heaven ! as well as by all the 
 evil things in hell ! that Conrad Murray shall never again 
 look upon the face of Gertrude Lindsay." 
 
318 
 
 T HE NIGH T WATCH. 
 
 " Why you would not lay violent hands on yourself?" 
 
 " Oh no ! but remember my words. Come, father, it is 
 late. I must retire." 
 
 She kisses him, and attends him to his sleeping-room. 
 On returning, she stands before the mirror for a moment, 
 tosses back her graceful ringlets, and, with a smile of 
 complacency, soliloquizes: "I do believe, as everybody 
 tells me, that I am very beautiful, and not yet in my 
 zenith. I have wealth, which is power! Aye! yes! 
 and one or the other of us shall rue the events of this 
 night!" 
 
 She hears a soft step in the entry, and, as the door 
 opens, springs forward, exclaiming, 
 
 " My dear Governor ! I have been waiting so long to 
 see you — until I am half dead ! " She throws herself into 
 the arms of Mr. Josiah Gaines. Not meeting the ardent 
 embrace which she expected, she raised her eyes and 
 would have shrieked, but, in a dry, quiet tone, he says : 
 
 " Better not — better not make a noise; take things 
 easy now, else you might bring your father back. I have 
 come as ever, with the intent to do you good." 
 
 " But you must not stay, sir ! Oh, you must begone 
 this moment. Go quickly! I shall be undone if he — 
 
 he — finds . In short, I am waiting to meet a person 
 
 here, by special appointment." 
 
 " I know," said Gaines, "but he will not come." 
 
 "How do you know?" cried the distracted girl, " you 
 do not even know of whom I speak." 
 
 " Think not? An hour ago, Governor returned 
 
 from the fire to his own house ; where he is now, doubt- 
 less sleeping off the fumes of two gallons of wine." 
 
 " Oh, then, you o know my secret, and I am h ambled 
 before my father's clerk." 
 
 " Need not be ; I have learned nothing new to-night." 
 Then he took a seat by her on the sofa, where she had 
 gone into hysterics. He manifested no alarm at her 
 
THE NIGHT WAT' P 
 
 319 
 
 situation, although there really was cause ; but waited in 
 silence until she grew calm. Then taking her hand he said, 
 "Gertrude." He had never ventured on this familiarity 
 before; and the lady started, and essayed to look haughty. 
 
 " JSTever mind, do not become excited. This is no time 
 for idle forms and set speeches. Gertrude, I wish to 
 speak very seriously to you. Will you listen ?" 
 
 " Go on, sir," said the beauty, proudly. 
 
 u I have come to make you acquainted with certain 
 facts. Then I await your decision." 
 
 " Go on, sir." 
 
 u Well : In the first place, Col. Murray has not perished 
 in the flames, as is believed." 
 
 u That is nothing new to me, sir. I never believed the 
 rumor, after the first stunning announcement. But go 
 on, I say." 
 
 " Then Governor — ■ never meant to fulfill his 
 
 engagements here with any honorable designs. His pur- 
 poses are all nefarious, his only desire being the gratifica- 
 tion of lust. He would never have married you, Gertrude, 
 even if this last bubble had not burst, and left 3^011 here, 
 as you must feel you are, a mark for the shafts of 
 calumny, the jeers of ridicule; in short, a thing for the 
 1 finger of scorn to point at.' " 
 
 " Stop, sir, I will hear no more." 
 
 " You must hear me out ; and I do not wish to be inter- 
 rupted." He takes out a note and reads very slowly and 
 emphatically : — 
 
 " Dear Joe — I am ordered by my sister Clara to invite 
 you to meet a gay party at the old homestead, on the 6th 
 of next month. She has at last got her own consent to 
 marry the merry little Governor, who has (like Jacob of 
 old) served seven years for her. We will take no denial. 
 Yours, truly, T. W. Lane." 
 
320 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T (J H . 
 
 " Colonel Murray, without intending it, has, to-night, 
 placed you in the most painful situation." 
 
 " Did you come here, sir, to probe my heart, or to gloat 
 over my degradation? to deliver a lecture, or preach a 
 sermon? " 
 
 " For none of these purposes. I came to give you an 
 opportunity to save yourself from further insults and 
 mortifications, by giving me a right to protect you. Or 
 if not so, then to aid you in your own plans in getting 
 out of the dilemma." 
 
 "But how? In what way can you protect me from those 
 assaults ? " 
 
 " Only as your husband, madam." 
 
 " Tou my husband?" almost shrieked the lady. 
 
 " Aye ! Your husband ! Better that, than the thing I've 
 been;" and he fixed those steel-like eyes on her; while 
 hers, as ever, sunk beneath the keen cold glance. Again 
 she went into hysterics. Her companion took no notice 
 of this ; but after calmly waiting for a few moments, took 
 out his watch and said very dryly, " Madam, I wait your 
 decision." 
 
 She looked up and said, " Josiah, have you told me the 
 whole truth? 
 
 " Far from it, I assure you. I have told you the truth, 
 and nothing but the truth, but God forbid I should tell 
 you the whole truth." 
 
 "Oh ! what must I do? What is best? Do advise me, 
 my last and only true friend." She took his hand and 
 pressed it to her lips. All this he endured very compo- 
 sedly, without the least excitement. " Tell me what you 
 propose." 
 
 Then he explained his wishes and plans, which ended 
 in the lady throwing herself into his arms, and crying, 
 " Well, take me and do with me as you think best." 
 
 " Now go to your room," said Gaines, " and get ready, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 321 
 
 for in one hour more it will be broad day. I will await 
 you here." 
 
 When Gertrude went to her room, she saw with aston- 
 ishment Ann sitting w T ith her traveling dress and bonnet 
 on. A large trunk was out in the floor, all packed, with 
 dressing-case, band-boxes, etc. Gertrude's traveling at- 
 tire was also lying on the bed. Without saying a word, 
 Ann commenced disrobing her mistress, talking as she 
 worked. " No time to chat now, Miss Gutty. We must 
 be off, else we can't get off. Come, let me fix your hair 
 up plainer like. We must hurry now." 
 
 A low tap at the door. 
 
 " Come." 
 
 Mr. Gaines entered. " Come, my dear," said he. The 
 lady started, but in an instant recovered herself, and tried 
 to smile her thanks. Poor soul ! she felt like the drowning 
 wretch, who seizes the plank thrown into the whirlpool. 
 
 Now they are ready, and Mr. Gaines places before her 
 writing materials. 
 
 " Write to your father, Miss Lindsay," said he. 
 
 " Oh mercy ! For God's sake do not ask me to do that. 
 I can not ; I am afraid." 
 
 M Gertrude, it is due to yourself, your friends, and my- 
 self. Besides, it would be an unpardonable disrespect to 
 your father." 
 
 "How can I? How can I address my father? How 
 can I tell him that I have — have — Oh ! how can I write 
 to my father, who is so passionate? " 
 
 " You will not be here to witness it. Write ; we lose 
 time." 
 
 " What must I say, Josiah ? " taking the pen and look- 
 ing pleadingly into his face. She repeats the question, 
 " Oh tell me, dear Josiah, what I shall say." 
 
 The young man turns away, and smiles with a peculiar 
 expression — walks across the room, then says, "I would 
 
322 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 not presume so much. Your own heart must be your Men- 
 tor in bidding your own father farewell." 
 
 " O God ! I have no heart — ('I fear not,' struck in 
 Mr. Gaines) — to do this or anything else." 
 
 " Write, madam ! Address two lines to your father, 
 accounting for your disappearance. In less than five min- 
 utes I shall leave. If you have done it then, and are ready 
 to accompany me, I shall doubtless be honored. Write." 
 
 " My dear Father " " Oh ! I can not ! I feel incom- 
 petent to this difficult task." 
 
 Mr. Gaines has taken his seat very composedly across 
 the room on a divan, with his watch in his hand. 
 
 Ann comes to the door, and says, " It most day, bress 
 God ! If you don't start soon, you gwine to hab de sun 
 to light you on your road to ruin." Gaines smiles sar- 
 castically, and again admonishes Miss Lindsay of the 
 flight of time. 
 
 Then with the look and manner of desperate reckless- 
 ness, she dashes off the following note : 
 
 " Dear Father — I have placed myself under the pro- 
 tection of the only man who never did deceive me. 1 
 shall write from the first post. 
 
 Your poor Daughter." 
 
 She handed it to him timidly, saying, " I could think 
 of nothing else to write. Pardon me if I have not said 
 enough to jnease you." 
 
 " It is sufficient. Now shall I have the pleasure of 
 handing you to your carriage ? " offering his arm. 
 
 When they reached the street it was still dark, and after 
 walking a few squares, they came to a vehicle. Gertrude 
 was handed into it ; Gaines sprang in after her, the maid 
 following. He had placed himself by her side and folded his 
 arms, and after giving the signal, spoke iyot another word. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 323 
 
 They drove off at a furious pace. A few market cart-men 
 and the post-boy riding drowsily along, were all who saw 
 that flying vehicle. 
 
 "When the sun rose, they were many miles on their way. 
 The blinds were securely buttoned down ; the inmates 
 heeded not the hour. And now that proud, arrogant, 
 spoiled belle of a large aristocratic city, slept quietly on 
 the humble bosom of the second clerk of a commercial 
 house — her father's book-keeper — a man younger than 
 herself. But she, with all her accessories, and her high, 
 haughty spirit, will And her match in that pale, quiet 
 young man. 
 
 She rests in peace now in his arms, where we will leave 
 her for the present to dream ; aye ! to dream. 
 
324 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE ELOPEMENT DISCOVERED. 
 
 4 * Alas ! what stay is there in human state, 
 Or who can shun inevitable fate ? 
 The doom was written, the decree was past, 
 Ere the foundations of the world were cast ! " 
 
 At eleven o'clock, Maj. Lindsay sat at breakfast rumin- 
 ating over the events of the past evening. He adjusts his 
 spectacles midway between his eyes and the point of his 
 nose. Then takes them off, and wipes them: puts them 
 on again a little nearer. Anon he wipes them again. 
 
 At length he exclaims, " D it all ! if I don't believe 
 
 I'm growing old ; hardly though — my lady Murray reads 
 without the cursed things. But whether the book is up 
 side or down it is all the same to her. Ha! ha ! ha ! " Sips 
 his chocolate, and reads the last journal — having placed 
 the glasses again on the point. 
 
 " £ The public ' — ahem ! ' The public notice is invited 
 
 to' the devil ! Will they never get up anything new ? 
 
 1 Wanted, a young woman to' — go to h with such 
 
 stuff' ! Humph ! What is this ? ' Fire — everything 
 
 lost — nothing saved but ' £ unprecedented heroism ! ' 
 
 Ahem! 'plunged into the flames' Yes, poor fel- 
 low ! You did indeed plunge right into damnation ! 
 
 I believe I'm turning woman, or fool, which is the 
 same thing." Wipes his eyes — " God only knows, when 
 these old eyes were ever moistened with grief before. 
 
 Poor child ! no wonder she shuts herself up Such a 
 
 loss ! Such a loss ! Oh me ! Oh me ! " Eises and rings 
 the bell. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 325 
 
 Tom comes in, who is only an assistant groom. " Where 
 is Eobert?" asked Maj. Lindsay. 
 
 " I dunno, mas'r, I can't not find him." 
 « Where is Ann, then?" 
 
 " She aint not come down yet. I reckon she sleep too, 
 like Miss Gutty." 
 
 " Has she been called ? " 
 
 u Yes, sir ; but every one of the doors of Miss Gutty's 
 rooms is locked." 
 
 " Go bid Mrs. Bluster come to me immediately." The 
 house-keeper soon presented herself — full of importance. 
 
 u Mrs. Bluster, I am sorry to see you so backward in 
 having things placed to the right about. It is now twelve 
 o'clock, and the whole house looks like a pandemonium." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I know such is the true state o' the case ; but 
 I have been waiting orders from the head o' the quar- 
 ters." 
 
 "What has Miss Lindsay to do with house-cleaning?" 
 
 " Nothing, sir, with house-cleaning, but a great deal 
 with house clearing. Many of the things, here, is borrid. 
 Way out from the very outsquirts of the city. ]STobody 
 knows nothing of the places, but the young lady, Ann, and 
 Eobert. All three of them can't be found. Cook says 
 she 'sposes they's asleep, after their rebel last night ; but 
 I reckon they's drunk, or gone off, somewhere or nother, 
 I do " 
 
 " Silence ! ISTow, Mrs. Bluster, I want you to do credit 
 to your profession, and to your name. Ere night every- 
 thing must be in statu quo. Call in help, if you need it, 
 five, ten, twenty hands ; but let me on my return see a 
 comfortable house, and a real snug tea-table, with some- 
 thing racy and nice. Miss Lindsay, you see, has taken 
 nothing to-day. She must be compensated for walking 
 down stairs, you know." He takes his hat and cane, and 
 goes out. 
 
 " Miss Lindsay taken nothing to-day ! Little he knows 
 
326 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 about it. Poor old man ! I guess she 's took fits 'fore now. 
 I wonder how he'll stand it. Heigh-ho ! Well, it is won- 
 derful how some folks do worn themselves round our 
 affections, and quirl their hearts about ourselves. Ah ! it 
 takes dear Mr. Josiah Gaines to do sich things as above 
 mentioned." She places her arms a-kimbo and marches 
 out of the room, with a very knowing and consequential 
 air ; sighing, as she goes, " Ah ! yes, it does that." 
 
 When Major Lindsay left home, he went straight to the 
 house of Mrs. Murray. Gertrude's words flashed across 
 his mind, and he felt troubled. She had said, " Before 
 one week is over, he will be here." "It is strange," said 
 he, " but perhaps she knows more than any of us ; I will 
 call." He reached there, and rang the bell, but no one 
 came : he rang again. Then he opened the door and 
 entered. All was still and lonely. He walks through the 
 deserted and dismal-looking rooms below, then made his 
 way upstairs. 
 
 Tivvy comes from her Mistress's room, wringing her 
 hands and weeping. 
 
 " What's all this ? Is the devil to pay here, too ? " 
 " Oh yes ! I believe so, sir." 
 " What do you mean, girl ? " 
 
 " I don't know, sir. But 1 believe the gemman you 
 jest mentioned is to pay, and he gwine to take poor old 
 Mistis for the debt." 
 
 l L Explain yourself, Tivvy, else I'll give you this cane. 
 I will." 
 
 " Oh, sir, I don't mean nothing, only I fear the devil is 
 to pay, and poor Marster Charles not here to witness the 
 transaction." Seeing him look wildly at her, she added 
 petulantly : " Lor ! Major Lindsay, is you so subtuse as 
 all that ? I mean my poor old Mistis is about to move 
 her washing to a warmer climate. He ! he ! he ! Hugh ! 
 hugh ! hugh ! " And the negro laughed and cried at the 
 same time. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 327 
 
 " Good morning, Doctor Brown. How is the old 1 
 
 mean how is Mrs. Murray?" 
 
 " Bad ! bad ! sir. Bad state of things, sir. I hardly 
 think she will survive this shock. The loss of her son 
 seems more than she can live under," said Dr. Brown, 
 with feeling. 
 
 " Pshaw ! she never cared for any body in her life, but 
 herself." 
 
 " Well ! I don't know about that ; but this stroke is 
 overwhelming. It has unsettled her reason. Hark ! 
 Listen to those maniac shrieks. I am going after my 
 wife. She begs to see her before she dies." 
 
 " Does she think her case so desperate, then ? " 
 
 " I believe so. She raves incessantly for her son. Does 
 not seem willing to give credence to that rumor of his 
 death. Good day, sir ; I am in haste." 
 
 Major Lindsay felt strangely depressed. All things 
 seemed to have lost their roseate hue. He plodded on 
 his way down street ; his eyes fixed on the ground. Pre- 
 sently he quickens his pace and looks up. " Well ! d 
 
 it ! I can't help it ! Why should I go bowed down in this 
 way ? I'm sure I did all in my power, while he lived, to 
 please and honor him. No use in grieving myself to 
 death, because he is dead. I'll call for the little Gov- 
 ernor, and take him home with me, and we'll make a 
 jollification over it, just to keep off the azure demons, as 
 Gertrude says." So he knocked up his friend. 
 
 When they reached home, they found all the house in 
 order, and a comfortable-looking tea-table set out in the 
 back parlor. 
 
 "Ah! this is glorious, Major ; this looks like a manjiad 
 something to come home to." 
 
 " Oh yes ! If Gertrude is good for any thing, it is this. 
 She makes a fellow's home very attractive in the even- 
 ing. Here Eobert ! Ann ! Jack ! Tom ! Dolly ! Cook ! 
 
-328 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Bluster ! anybody ! where are your varlets ? the devil 
 take the negroes ! They are more trouble than they are 
 worth. Here, hand these cards to Miss Lindsay, and tell 
 her w r e are waiting for her, as well as the tea, in the back 
 parlor." 
 
 The servant soon returned with word that all the doors 
 to Miss Lindsay's suit of rooms were fast, and that they 
 had knocked loud enough to wake up the dead, all for 
 nothing. Mrs. Bluster was sent up to have the door forced. 
 The house-keeper came down, whimpering and whining; 
 she pulled her nose and stuck her fingers into the corners 
 of her eyes, to help her on to the melting mood, while she 
 thus delivered herself : "All things remains edzactly as 
 they was, but the sw r eet bird has flew away. The cage is 
 filled no more forever. But here is writ out the passage 
 of that same bird. Oh ! oh ! oh ! " She hands Gertrude's 
 noite to Lindsay, who this time reads without glasses. 
 
 "Dear Father — I have placed myself under the pro- 
 tection of" 
 
 "Hell and damnation ! " cried the Major, springing to 
 his feet with the alacrity of youth, "who is there on 
 the face of the earth who never did deceive ? There, 
 
 read the d d thing, Governor, and tell me which of 
 
 the parasitical puppies has played me this scurvy trick. 
 But I don't care who it is, they will have their hands full, 
 and ere long they'll find out the wormwood and the gall, 
 instead of the honey and the honey-comb. Who is it, 
 Governor? Who is the scapegrace ? " 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, don't you know your own confi- 
 dential friend and private secretary, and second clerk of 
 the house of Lindsay & Co. ? " 
 
 The father cast his eyes down, and mused for a moment, 
 then looking up cheerfully, said, " Well, I'm glad it is no 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 329 
 
 worse. After all, I reckon Gaines will do better for her 
 than anybody else 3 but, gad! they have taken me greatly 
 by surprise." 
 
 " How so ? Did you not see that the fellow held an influ- 
 ence over her superior to all others, not excepting your- 
 self and our poor, lamented Murray ? " 
 
 " Ah ! well, what's done is done. Here, ho ! Eobert ! 
 John ! Joe ! varlets ! where are ye all ? Here, bring wine ; 
 we'll drink to the continuance of it, and to their very 
 harmonious lives," laughing sarcastically, " as well as to 
 their rapid onward route." 
 
 " Not so ; we'll drink to their speedy return to their 
 friends, and their own splendid mansion. Now, my dear 
 Major, you must write this very night, inviting them 
 back." 
 
 " Well, wait a bit ; wait, Governor. Let us have time to 
 ponder." 
 
 "No, sir, not an instant. If you do not write now," 
 flourishing his hand with mock heroic air (the Governor 
 already felt the encroachments of the subtle fluid), " the 
 last link shall be broken which binds me to thee ! " He 
 strikes the waiter containing the decanters and glasses, 
 which are dashed to the ground and shivered, the costly 
 wines deluging the rich Brussels carpet. 
 
 "Many a true word is spoken in jest," said the Major, 
 pointing to the wine. 
 
 " Ah ! there's no joke in that. It is a sad truth, besides 
 a most unholy use of a good thing," affecting to look 
 grieved. " But we can call up more wine ; we can again 
 invoke that spirit. But who will restore our Pleiad lost ? 
 or fill her place at the festive board? Come, write, 
 bereaved old man, and make us your debtor for exquisite 
 and untold joys." 
 
 So he writes and invites his daughter back, and tenders 
 his forgiveness for that to which in his secret soul he did 
 not object ; urges them to return immediately, and sends 
 28 
 
330 
 
 THE NIGHT WATC H 
 
 his best- respects to his son-in-law ; then seals and ad- 
 dresses the letter to the care of Mr. Josiah Gaines, Esq. 
 The Governor looks on, and smiles meaningly, as he says, 
 u Already do honors begin to cluster around the head 
 of the neophyte great man. In twelve hours he is distin- 
 guished among men as accepted lover, husband, and 
 esquire. 
 
 Huzza! huzza! 
 Long live the happy pair ! 
 None but the brave deserve the fair." 
 
 " Hurrah ! hurrah ! " cries the Major, tossing off another 
 glass. 
 
 The reader may be at a loss to know why the Governor 
 was so much interested about the return of Gertrude, after 
 
 his glaring defalcations. My friend, Governor , was 
 
 a roue in the most polite sense of the term, equaled only 
 in that sort of profligacy by our quondam acquaintance, 
 Mr. Calderwood. This gentleman is announced at this 
 moment. Soon after, they all three enter on the most 
 entire, absorbing, sense-destroying, soul-killing saturnalia. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 331 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE CHAMBER OF DEATH. 
 "Of all 
 
 The fools who flocked to see or swell the show, 
 Who cared about the poor corpse ? The funeral 
 Made the attraction, and the black the woe." 
 
 When Doctor Brown reached home, he found Minny 
 with the heart-broken little Clarence in her arms, trying 
 to soothe him. The poor child continued to send forth 
 heart-piercing lamentations. 
 
 " Oh ! my mother ! my kind, sweet mother ! Where is 
 she? Where is my beautiful mother?" 
 
 Mr. Gooch is sitting by, holding one little hand, while 
 the other arm is thrown around Minny's neck. The kind 
 manager says, " My son, if you would exert yourself, you 
 might be able to succeed. Besides, I think it will beguile 
 you from your griefs." The child answers, 
 
 " ISTo, sir, I can't ever any more. The life and soul of 
 action is gone from me. I should disgrace my former 
 self. I can't go there now, to be a mere machine, to move 
 only as I am prompted." 
 
 "But, Clarens, the forfeiture of my pledged word to 
 the public will ruin my present, and your future pros- 
 pects. Come, boy ; come, my son, think of that." 
 
 "Alas ! sir, I have no future. All is swallowed up in 
 this present anguish. No, no ! Mr. Gooch, I would do 
 more for you than any other friend save this one," nest- 
 ling still closer, and hiding his face in Minny's bosom, 
 " but my occupation is done." 
 
332 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Poor boy! But what then will you do? Lie there 
 and sob your life away ? You can't, though ; you would 
 not ; for in that you usurp the place of the little fledg- 
 ling in the cradle." 
 
 " I don't know, sir, but I hope God will let me die. 
 Then I shall go to my mother." This child, young as he 
 is, was so deeply imbued with the spirit of poesy that he 
 involuntarily employs the language to express his own 
 grief. 
 
 "Aweel! INT ow it's nae use spaking to the chiel that 
 gate ! Gang awa', man. Dinna ye ken that the very soul 
 is gane out o' the bairn for action, as he says himsel' ? 
 Canna ye see it? There's nae heart in him to do ony- 
 thing, for sairness. Puir stricken deer, you shall rest 
 here ! " said she, pressing him fondly to her breast, "even 
 though the wee bit Myra shall have to gang awa' to a 
 foster mither." 
 
 Mr. Gooch looks distressed and slightly disconcerted. 
 He stoops down and kisses the child ; then going up to 
 old Mrs. Wise, offers his hand, which she refuses, and 
 turns from him. He then shakes hands with Minny, and 
 leaving a paper within hers, says, " For the use of the 
 bereaved ones." When he had closed the door after him, 
 Minny opens the little roll and finds it to be a fifty dollar 
 bank note. The good little creature weeps, and cries out, 
 with much feeling, 
 
 " Thank God ! It wasna then the luve o' filthy lucre 
 that made him worry the puir bairn sae. See, dear Gabe, 
 what the man meant by them whispered words." 
 
 " Ah yes ! Gooch is a noble fellow; there is no doubt of 
 that. And Minny, when you remember that to the vota- 
 ries of the stage there is no separate existence from it, no 
 individuality, no domestic life, you can not blame Gooch. 
 Its members are pledged, and devoted to self-abnegation. 
 Many a poor crushed woman is compelled to smile, and 
 bow, and sing — aye! and merrily too, and adorn the 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 333 
 
 festive board, and play off the gorgeous queen, or dashing 
 high bred wife to some lord or duke, when her heart per- 
 haps, has been that day buried with the loving husband of 
 her youthful choice. Her poor bereaved heart swells in that 
 lonely bosom, and throbs wildly ; then burns, yea burns 
 to go and lay itself down by his side. The big tears are 
 forced back on that poor, parched up thing to revive it, 
 and produce a little life by which she shall be enabled to 
 go through with the roll assigned her by her taskmaster, 
 the manager. Still she smiles and laughs, and carols, and 
 maybe dances. The audience does not know ; these ladies 
 and gentlemen only view the surface, and by its smooth 
 brightness are deceived. If it be tragedy, some more 
 reflective and sympathetic person will say, ' How feel- 
 ingly she plays her part ! How naturally she weeps ! How 
 chastened is her manner in the character of the wife.' 
 Some one rejoins, 'Why, I had thought her heart was not 
 in the play, that she seemed pre-occupied. See, now, how 
 her features fall, and how r the smile fades from her face, 
 while her opposite speaks; and see that start as if aroused 
 from sleep.' Then comes the whispered communication, 
 that that splendid personification of folly has that same 
 morning lowered into the earth her first and last friend, 
 the faithful husband of her trusting bosom. Some few 
 commend, 'such admirable magnanimity, thus sacrificing 
 private feelings to the interest of her employer. 5 A few 
 cry out, 'Oh how heartless ! How can she appear here in 
 all those fantastic gauds, to play the fool for the gratifi- 
 cation of that extortioner, the public? I know I can 
 never endure her again in my sight ! ' 
 
 " But w T ife, dear wife ! None but God looks into that 
 heart ; none but He takes cognizance of its throbbings 
 and its promptings. That night, when she is released 
 from service, even in those royal robes she takes her way 
 to that lowly sod, that new made grave. The little stars 
 look down on that mourner. The lonely tree-frog, the 
 
334 THE NIGHT WATCH, 
 
 hooting owl, and the melancholy howlings of some poor 
 watch -dog (like herself chained), mingle their dismal 
 notes with the wails of that heart-broken wife. But, my 
 dear wife, there is an eye and an ear open at all times, and 
 they watch over that lone one." 
 
 " Oh ! my ain dear husband ! say no mair ; for the luve 
 o' God, say na mair! I dinna ken much about sic things, 
 but the little I ha' read and heard, gaes to testify to 
 the truth o' the picture!" cried Minny, now weeping 
 as if her own little loving heart was going to break, or 
 else exhale itself in sighs and tears. 
 
 " Gabe ! dear Gabe ! for heaven's sake tell me where ye 
 learned all that? I feel like I would be willing to turn to 
 a tree-frog, or an owl, or some puir dog, that I, too, might 
 accord my sympathy to the puir, dear, tragedy queen." 
 
 Dr. Brown could not refrain from laughing, sad as he 
 felt. He stooped down and kissed his wife tenderly. 
 " Heaven bless you, my dear wife ! I love you so much, 
 and I am so grateful to God for such a gift, that I firmly 
 believe, after a while, it will make me good and religious 
 like yourself. But I had forgot my mission. Give the 
 bairn to the grandam, wife. You must come with me. 
 One of w^hom you would never have thought, is calling 
 frantically for you — says she can't die in peace until she 
 has calked with you." 
 
 The little Clarence had fallen asleep. Minny places 
 him gently on the sofa, and spreads a light shawl over 
 him. Then she puts on her bonnet, and taking the arm 
 of her husband, departs without asking a question. She 
 is satisfied to know that some one of God's family is in 
 distress; and glad and thankful is she, that he makes her 
 his instrument in ministering to them. 
 
 On arriving at Mrs. Murray's, they find her more com- 
 posed, and she has now, apparently, an interval of rea- 
 son — a lucid ray. She beckons Mrs. Brown to her, and, 
 taking her hand, says, very feebly : 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 335 
 
 " Sit down. I must hasten to tell you what I have to 
 say, without loss of time or waste of words. JSTow, swear 
 to me that you will faithfully execute my dying injunc- 
 tions. Come, swear ! " 
 
 u I canna do it. I must na swear, madam. But 1 
 w T ill give ye my word o' honor, which is better, because 
 not sinful." 
 
 " O Lord ! I can't get anything done the way I want 
 it," cried she. 
 
 u Dear woman, ga on. It maunna be lang that ye shall 
 ha' to speak. I promise, and God above hears me." 
 
 Mrs. Murray looks about her anxiously. Minny goes 
 to the doctor, and whispers something to him. He 
 approaches the bed, raises the patient, and says, 
 
 " Drink this, it will give you strength to do and say 
 what you wish." He feels her pulse, then adds : " I leave 
 you in the hands of my wife, who can do you more good 
 than I can." 
 
 11 Now, my dear little woman, take that portfolio, and 
 sit down by me. I must write to my son." Seeing that 
 Minny looked greatly surprised, she rejoins, with energy, 
 
 "You think him dead, but I know better — I know 
 better." 
 
 « Why, have ye ony tidings o' Col. Murray, madam ? " 
 
 u Do not interrupt me or ask me questions, it throws 
 me out. No, I have had no information ; but something 
 assures me that that poor, wronged, and deceived one — 
 that good son and honest man — must be recompensed, 
 even in this world, for his mighty sufferings. A crim- 
 inal ambition for high things and places ; a wicked 
 thirst for vengeance — for trivial offences ; and oh ! a 
 fatal attachment, which brought me nothing but sorrow, 
 and a no less fatal promise, made to an unworthy object, 
 led me to barter my own soul to the evil one (who only 
 could have prompted such fearful devices), whereby I 
 destroyed the happiness, therefore the usefulness of my 
 
336 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 son — one of the most gloriously promising youths that 
 ever lived." She became so fiercely agitated just at this 
 juncture, that Minny was compelled to administer another 
 sedative mixture. 
 
 " And now," said the suffering woman, " write as I shall 
 dictate, and remember that the paper is not to be given 
 till after my demise. No, not if it could snatch me from 
 the jaws of death, must you let it pass from your hands 
 before I have been dead and buried three days. Disobey 
 me under pains of being haunted all your after life by a 
 phantom. As sure as there is a devil in hell, and he gives 
 me the power, I'll come back and stand at the foot of your 
 bed as I look now, ghastly and grim. Yes, when darkness 
 covers the earth — when the elements wage war with each 
 other, and even your brave soul becomes faint with con- 
 sternation, / will then be there, and you shall see it and 
 know it." 
 
 " Oh ! for Christ's sweet sake, think o' better things. 
 Woman, your soul will pass away, and ye ha' given it no 
 'tendance, provided no passport to that far off country, 
 and awfu' journey. Here on my knees I promise ; but be 
 brief. Then let us provide something for the puir sinfu' 
 soul." 
 
 " Too late ! No time now ! Let me make what restitu- 
 tion I can to those two poor, wronged children. 'Now 
 write as I shall dictate." 
 
 So Mrs. Brown sat there patiently waiting on the dying 
 woman, as she slowly and painfully indited that letter. 
 When it was finished, she closed her eyes and lay so still 
 that Minny became alarmed. She held her ear down to 
 see if she breathed ; which she did, but so softly that one 
 would think that nothing save infancy and innocence 
 could know such downy sleep. 
 
 Minny folded up the paper, intending when the patient 
 awoke to get her signature if possible. The sick woman 
 continued to slumber for some time quietly. Presently 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 % 337 
 
 she became restless — breathed with difficulty — then deep 
 and labored sighs are heaved up, and convulsions ensue. 
 
 Minny becomes alarmed. During the time that the in- 
 valid had slept, the dear little "dot" of a woman had 
 arranged everything in the room for the night vigil. It 
 is now dark, but that splendid lamp is made to emit a soft 
 and mellow light. Those alarming symptoms increase, 
 and Mrs. Brown feels sure that immediate dissolution is 
 at hand. She therefore scratches the following note to 
 her husband : 
 
 " Dear Gabe ; I canna just say, but I think her time is 
 about come. I dinna wish to stay alone. G-o fetch Lucy 
 May and Jenny to stay wi' the auld folks at hame, and 
 you come quickly. It is awfu' dismal here. Solitude at 
 sic a time is nae sa winsome. Make haste, Gabe, dear. 
 
 " Minny." 
 
 In a short time he is there, and his looks show that he 
 thinks her words are prophetic. 
 
 " Gabe," said Minny, " will she ever wake up ? " 
 
 u I think not, dear wife ; not until the last trump shall 
 wake her." 
 
 " Oh ! my husband, it is too dreadful, too awful to rush 
 into the presence of a pure and holy God, wi' all her life- 
 time sins upon her soul ! " And she weeps vehemently. 
 
 " Come, wife, come ! no use in that. She does not go 
 uncalled. It is the regular summons, dear ; and God can 
 do no wrong, you know. 4 He can cause the wrath of 
 man to praise him.' " And so they sat there by the bed 
 of sickness, as once before, hand in hand ; loving each 
 other even more tenderly than then. 
 
 The hour is late, and very solemn ; the stillness is appal- 
 ling. The labored breathing of the patient is only varied 
 by the beating of their own hearts. The clock strikes 
 twelve. The doctor scrutinizes the features of the patient ; 
 29 
 
338 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 places his finger on her pulse. Then they sit down again 
 together in silence. 
 
 The watchers are startled by the violent ringing of the 
 street door bell. Soon after the door burst open, and Col. 
 Murray stalks in. He is ghastly pale, and his beautiful 
 locks are scorched, and his whiskers on one side are 
 burned nearly to the face. His eyes are inflamed, his face 
 blistered in many places, and covered with patches, and 
 his hands are bound up. Minny, uttering an exclamation 
 of joy, ran to him, and actually threw her arms around 
 his neck. While the Doctor exclaimed, 
 
 " God bless my soul ! God bless my life ! Where have you 
 been ? Have you just come from the infernal regions, sir ?" 
 
 " Ah ! I don't know; it is a strange place." Then his 
 eyes falling on the corpse-like appearance of his mother, 
 he drops on his knees, and taking her hand, w T ept over it 
 in silence. 
 
 She roused up, looked wildly around, and then her 
 gaze settled on the kneeling figure of her son. A ghastly 
 smile o'erspread her face, and now commenced the most 
 painful struggles to speak. It was soon discovered that 
 she was unable to do so ; the power of utterance was 
 gone ; yet it did not seem to be the paralysis of death. 
 She beckoned Minny to her, and made such violent efforts 
 as almost threw her into spasms. 
 
 " Oh ! my Father in heaven ! what shall I do ? The 
 puir old body is struck dumb, and there is something on 
 her mind which she wants to say to her son." 
 
 Murray remained kneeling, with his face pressed on 
 her hand. 
 
 " What do you want, puir woman? water?" 
 
 She shook her head ; the good creature continued to 
 enumerate a great many things. At last, seeing her look 
 very earnestly at a book shelf, she repeated, " book." In 
 a moment the sick woman's face brightened up, and she 
 nodded assent. Then Minny got a dictionary, and opened 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 339 
 
 it at the alphabet, and she spelled by pointing to each 
 letter, " Tell my son to come." And as he stood by her, 
 she went on, " Have you found her ? " 
 
 He answered, " Oh ! no ! My mother, will you leave 
 me with this secret, which has bowed me down for years, 
 still unrevealed ? " 
 
 The dying woman nodded to Minny, who then took 
 Conrad's place, and holding the book, put her finger on 
 the alphabet and said, " When I come to the right letter, 
 nod your head. So she moved her finger down the list, 
 until the patient, becoming impatient and nervous, seized 
 the book, and, with great effort, spelled, " Seek her in the 
 den of the Jews.''' 
 
 u Oh ! " cried he, " she is not there ; I know she is not." 
 
 She looked despairingly at him, and then slowly and 
 feebly made out, 61 Mordecai Faggot, the Jew Peddler." 
 
 Murray sprang to his feet, and putting on his hat, was 
 about to leave the room, when Minny, seeing the expres- 
 sion of anguish on the countenance of the fast sinking 
 woman, laid her hand on his arm, and said, as she pointed 
 to the patient, " Not yet, my friend. Ye canna leave her 
 now. Sit down by your own puir mither." 
 
 He takes the seat, and the poor creature rewards him 
 by a look of intense gratitude. Minny leaves the room, 
 and calls her husband after her. Comes back, and takes 
 her seat again by the bedside. In ten minutes, Dr. Brown 
 returns with Dr. Mercer, the rector of St. Paul's church. 
 The lady opened her eyes on hearing his name, and 
 looked steadfastly at him, but very mournfully. But 
 when he would have questioned her on the state of her 
 feelings in view of that great change which was about to 
 take place, she gave no sign of understanding. He could 
 make out no indication of feeling whatever, only when he 
 at last said, " There's yet time ! turn your dying eyes to 
 Christ! look upon the cross! while the lamp of life burns, 
 however feebly, there is yet hope ; she shook her head. 
 
340 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 u My poor friend, repentance may be a short work. 
 Think of the thief on the cross ! Have faith." 
 
 She, by an impatient gesture, intimated that she wished 
 him to cease. Then he bowed himself in prayer, while 
 that little band of mourners knelt around the death bed. 
 When they arose, they found she had fallen into a deep 
 sleep, from which she never roused up. 
 
 About daylight, the pulse stopped, and that restless, 
 perturbed heart, which, for forty years, had been a busy 
 scheme shop, also ceased to beat. The breath had 
 departed, and the mysterious principle, or spark, had 
 gone back to its source. 
 
 All is over, the son kisses the cold, rigid, features, and 
 leaves. Mrs. Brown proposes to send for one or two 
 neighbors ; but Tivvy informs her that she had been 
 made to swear on the holy Bible, that there should be no 
 curious, prying eyes in that chamber of -death. So they 
 perform the last sad offices themselves alone. Every 
 
 thing w T as left to Dr. Brown and Minny. Governor 
 
 came to offer his condolence and services. Major Lind- 
 say kept aloof. Poor Murray did not seem to know 
 what was passing, who came, or who went, or one word 
 that was said to him. He continued to pace the room 
 slowly, with his eyes fixed on the carpet, entirely absorbed. 
 
 The funeral was one of unusual pomp. A great con- 
 course of people swelled that dismal train. But mourn- 
 ers, there were but three — the son, that faithful maid, 
 and an old beggar, with long, flowing, milk-white locks, 
 little snaky eyes, and catamount teeth. He was seen to 
 shudder, wring his hands, and sprinkle dust on his head. 
 
 When the multitude had dispersed, that proud man, 
 and that humble beggar, remained. The son and the 
 servant of the poor clay beneath, met each without see- 
 ing the other, and sat down on either side of that mound, 
 and wept. The one for sorrow and loneliness ; the other 
 for foiled and disappointed avarice. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 341 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXTII. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 " The hour of marriage ends the female reign, 
 And we give all we have to buy a chain ; 
 Hire men to be our lords, who were our slaves, 
 And bribe our lovers to be perjured knaves." 
 
 About the same date, the quiet citizens of the village 
 of 5 were startled by the dashing appearance and furi- 
 ous driving of a splendid equipage through its lonely 
 streets. The noble dapple greys w^ere driven by a remark- 
 ably fine-looking negro servant. They stopped at the 
 best hotel in the place. A fair, slight, delicate-looking 
 young man handed a magnificent-looking lady from the 
 carriage. 
 
 They entered the house, and to the landlord's obsequi- 
 ous bow, he said, " Let us have two of your best rooms 
 put in order immediately, sir." When the host had left, 
 he went up to the lady, and said in a calm, but respectful 
 tone, u Madam, do you feel much fatigued? " 
 
 " Oh yes, tired almost to death ; but, dear Josiah, why 
 do you address me so formally. I think you should spare 
 no pains to please and soothe me now, when I have just 
 made such a sacrifice for you. It is as little as you could 
 do to call me' by pet names, Mr. Gaines." The young man 
 smiled quietly. 
 
 " Oh yes, I know, but we must let all such things come 
 naturally, and in the course of time, by familiarity and 
 association." 
 
 The lady pouted and seemed very dissatisfied. Mr. 
 
M2 THE NIGHT WATCH . 
 
 Gaines put on his hat and moved toward the door. She 
 jumped at him, and cried out in a passionate voice, " You 
 shall not leave me, sir. I will not sit here by myself in 
 this dreadful place." He laid down his hat, and then 
 threw himself into a large old rocking chair opposite to her. 
 
 Just at that juncture, the landlady came in, announc- 
 ing, with the same sort of servility, that " the rooms were 
 ready." He offered his arm, and they follow the hostess 
 up stairs. There they find the two servants, Robert and 
 Ann, flirting as usual. 
 
 " Girl," said Gaines, going close up to Ann, " I think 
 you told me once your mistress had promised that your 
 marriage should come off the same time as her own. 
 Now get her ready and yourself ; I am about to make 
 that promise good. In fifteen minutes I shall be here." 
 
 In less time, he came with the pastor of the Presbyte- 
 rian church, and going up stairs, he brought the lady 
 down, the servants following. When the master, and 
 "like man," were married, the former presents the par- 
 son with two doubloons, which was no doubt a real God- 
 send to the poor fellow, as his black cloth began to look 
 rather seedy. The white bridegroom conducted his bride 
 back to her chamber, and the black one was ordered to 
 bring up the trunks. 
 
 The next morning, the following letters were dispatched 
 on their way home : 
 
 "Dear Father — About ten minutes ago, we were 
 united. I hope, dear sir, you will approve of this step; 
 at all events, forgive it, as it was the very 'best thing I 
 could do at the time and under the circumstances. I 
 begin to think that you did not understand or appreciate 
 Mr. Gaines at home. I know now that I never did ; but 
 I feel, convinced that I soon shall, and perhaps, after 
 awhile, learn to love him. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 343 
 
 " We shall sail for Europe immediately on reaching 
 New Orleans. I regret that I shall have to take my ser- 
 vants. You know, sir, that I could never make my toi- 
 lett without Ann. 
 
 " After seeing everything in Great Britain and on 
 the Continent, we will come back to stay with you. I 
 hope the establishment will be kept up as before I left 
 home. 
 
 " Send me a check for $5,000 ; we shall need this much 
 for the outfit. The next must be drawn on the Bank of 
 England, etc. Ann was married immediately after I was, 
 and is now Mrs. Ann Gaines; as I subscribe myself, 
 " Your respectful daughter, 
 
 " Gertrude Gaines." 
 
 " Dear Miss Moggy Ann — I bin intend to write you 
 accordin' to promise, ever sence we all 'loped dat same 
 night of Miss Gutty's weddin', what didn't turn out no 
 weddin', as you has no doubt hearn afore now. ls« »\ I 
 know, Miss Moggy, dat you and my other two inti- 
 mate friends, Mis Callerwood and Mis Nancy Jones, is 
 a'most dead to hear how we new-married folks stands it, 
 and gits along. Lor' bress your soul ! you don't know 
 that Mas'r Josiah ; for we all b'longs to him now, ever 
 sence 'bout ten minutes ago, when we was all bound up 
 to him in the holy bands of hymenial matrimony, by a 
 keeper of a meeting house, vulgarly called the pasture of 
 de Prisperterian church. Miss Gutty seemed mazin put 
 out when she heard he hadn't got on the black gownd and 
 white bans, and vowed she wouldn't not be married by no 
 sich a barbararian. But my master, Mr. Gaines, jist set 
 hisself down, and folded up his arms, and said : 
 
 "'Well, Miss Lindsay, it makes no great difference to 
 me. Far as I myself 's concerned, it all de same way. I 
 shall enjoy myself jest as well ; but I thought it was due 
 
344 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 to my benefactorer, your father, and his daughter too, to 
 have dis bisines 'tended to wid no loss of any time.' j 
 
 " Den she stomp her little foot, and wring her small 
 aristocraticous hands, and cry, and cry, but it all de same 
 to him. Lor', Miss Moggy, you'd think dat man had been 
 married all de days of his life time, he look so lonesome 
 and pitisome like. I tell you all, dis man's gwine to turn 
 out somethm' great. Because why? Well, he is de first 
 man, woman, and child what ever did git de upper hand 
 of Miss Gutty Gaines, and he's gwine to keep it too. 
 He'll make her stand the right about w T heel ; that's the 
 way to tell it. 
 
 " But still, dear friends, I don't know whether dat and 
 all her great money estate will suffice to make de poor fel- 
 low happy. ' Oh, he do look so gloomy, and grand-like,' as 
 Will Hatspeare says. ' He seldom and never do smile, and 
 when he do it, of sich a short kind, as if he knocked 
 hisself, and scorned his sperrit, that could be moved to 
 smile at nothing at all.' 
 
 " But to de pint of de subject. Presently she come off 
 all dat. When he git up and put on his hat, and at de 
 same time one of dem perculiar short kind of smiles, and 
 bow and say, ' Good evening, Miss Lindsay.' She jump 
 at him, same as any cat would at a rat ; and while she 
 bite her lips with madness, she say, 'My grashus, Josiah, 
 I'm jis a joking, I'm ready to do anything on de face of de 
 yarth that you wants me to.' He never answer a word; 
 but having 'splained to me before all about it, he gave 
 me de sign to follow on. And after dey was bound up, 
 den de man of God bound me and Kobert up, so we jis in 
 dat pedicament at dis present junction. I hope we'll all 
 be made able by de grace of Divine aid, to perform our 
 parts well, and faithful to the end; and above all, dat our 
 performance may prove satisfaction to every one of us, is 
 de prayer of your friend, Ann Gaines." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIV. 
 
 THE HAPPY H O M E . 
 
 " His clean hearth stone, his thrifty wife's smile, 
 The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 
 Does a' his weary kiangh and care beguile, 
 
 And makes him qnite forget his trouble and his toils." 
 
 When Murray left the grave of his mother, and turned 
 his steps slowly toward his solitary home, he found his 
 friends waiting for him there. Minny left her husband, 
 and meeting him placed her hand on his arm, and looking 
 up kindly into his face, said, " Come wi' us, my friend, 
 we hae the best claim to ye to-night. Ye must not go in 
 there to greet and glower all by your ain sel'. Come wi' 
 us, and we'll try to do ye good." 
 
 "My dear madam," said he, pressing her hand, "I 
 should make but a sorry and somber companion, this 
 evening. I should only mar your happy home." 
 
 u Ah ! Never fash ! What was friendship made for, or 
 what are friends gude for, if it's only in moments o' joy, 
 and hours o' gladness, that we are to be found ? Come 
 wi' us ; ye shall be situated just as ye see fit ; either to 
 mak' aneamang us, or to go to yourself. And then we are 
 no' sae cheery there, now, as we hae been. Sic trouble's 
 as these must reach every heart." So he suffered himself 
 to be led along. 
 
 On entering the parlor, Murray thought he had never 
 seen so complete a portraiture of domestic comfort and 
 happiness. You will remember the month is May, and in 
 this genial clime, now, all rude winter winds have been 
 chased back to their northern homes, by the balmy breath 
 
346 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 of spring. The atmosphere in that large pleasant room 
 is redolent with sweets exhaled from beautifully arranged 
 vases of fresh flowers. A sabbath-like serenity pervades 
 the place. The lights are thrown out from rose-colored 
 glass globes, shedding through the room a soft, roseate 
 sunset hue. Plain but neat sofas, divans, and ottomans, 
 footstools, etc., are gracefully disposed about, over the 
 rich Turkey carpet. A table stands — not ostentatiously 
 in the center — on which are found some of the choicest 
 gems of literature. Conspicuous amid the display of 
 precious things is a large family Bible, elegantly bound; 
 flanked on the one side by " The Whole Duty of Man," and 
 on the other by " Woman as she should be." Then there 
 were Scott, and Milton, and Shakspeare, and Eurns ; in 
 short, quite a medley of authors, but only the best w T orks 
 of each. 
 
 Old Mrs. Wise sat at the head of a sofa, on which slept 
 the little Clarence. Further on, was Minny's aged grand- 
 mother. The other members of the family are also there. 
 They are assembled, as was the custom, twice every day ; 
 for it was in that room, the best she had, that Minny 
 tried to honor God by setting up the family altar. 
 
 When Murray had taken a cursory survey of the apart- 
 ment, and Minny detected the look of satisfaction on his 
 face, she advanced to him, and taking his hand said, 
 "Now suffer me to present ye to /the auld folks. They 
 like sic little attentions which help to eke out their enjoy- 
 ments, and God knows old age has but few left." 
 
 " Get up, my bonny bairn. Here is a friend come to see 
 you," said she, taking up the little Clarence from the sofa. 
 
 " Oh, I don't want to see anybody. Dear aunt Minny, 
 let me hide away here till God takes me home to my 
 mother." 
 
 Murray had taken his seat near him, and when he pro- 
 nounced those two words — " My son," — in his peculiarly 
 full, rich, voice — now modulated to a mournful sweet- 
 
T HE N 1 G H T W ATOH. 
 
 347 
 
 ness — the child sprang up, as if electrified, rushed into 
 his arms, threw his own around his neck, and bursting 
 into tears, cried out : 
 
 " O that you would let me be your son ! Then I * 
 would not weary heaven with prayers for death ! " There 
 was not a dry eye in the room — even the hard, bleared 
 eyes of eighty winters overflowed. 
 
 " Aweel ! aweel ! That bairn surely keeps the key to 
 the fountain of tears. He never speaks but he unlocks 
 it," said Minny. 
 
 Now a little silvery-sounding bell tinkles, and " mine 
 little hostess " announces tea. When they surround the 
 tea-table, which, with all its appointments, is in strict 
 keeping with that pleasant parlor, and the genius of the 
 place — the little mistress — Dr. Brown, in a calm, manly 
 voice, pronounces the thanksgiving. Their usual cheer- 
 ful contentedness was much chastened; and that glad, 
 heart-felt happiness, which was the characteristic of that 
 evening meal, was, for the time, o'ercast. Yet were they 
 patient and submissive under it — waiting G-od*s own 
 time to make all bright again. 
 
 The child seemed like one resurrected. He looked up 
 into Murray's face wistfully, hung upon every word which 
 fell from his lips, and hoarded them up in the treasure- 
 box of his little memory, as pearls and diamonds. He 
 even smiled, which he had not done since the loss of his 
 mother. The beautiful boy would lay his head on the 
 arm, and gaze up into the face of his new friend, with 
 those deep, dark, Marianna eyes. When Murray would 
 -meet that earnest, mournful look, his own would fill with 
 tears. 
 
 Oh ! it was a touching sight ! one which the inhabitants 
 of heaven might behold with mingled feelings of joy and 
 sympathy. That tender, trusting, but melancholy child, 
 by some mysterious influence, impulse, or instinct, cling- 
 ing to that strong man, who is so sublimely handsome in 
 
348 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 sorrow ; so grandly beautiful in goodness ; so touchingly 
 considerate in kindness ! 
 
 See with what patient gentleness he tends the " ivy 
 branch " by his side ; with what deference he listens to 
 the silly garrulity of old Mrs. Dun ; what steadfast atten- 
 tion he gives to Mrs. Wise, whenever she opens her 
 mouth to utter one of her blunt, but sensible truisms; and 
 above all, see with what rapt admiration he catches every 
 syllable which falls from the lips of the good creature at 
 the head of the table. And so it is, every one, even to 
 little Jenny Brown, is charmed with the great man, as 
 she calls him. Still his heart was in none of these things ; 
 his thoughts w^ere with the dead and the absent ! 
 
 " Col. Murray," said Minny, " we gae back every night 
 to the parlor, to make our family devotions, sae that the 
 auld folks may retire if they see fit. I wad na like to 
 mak an innovation on ony account, but I will show ye 
 to your ain room at once, unless ye wad like to kneel wi' 
 us around the 1 family altar.' We want ye to do just as 
 ye like while ye are wi' us. Imagine, if ye can, that ye 
 are in your ain house." 
 
 The child pulled him into the room ere he could reply, 
 and presently he found himself seated between the little 
 Clarence and his grandmother. Dr. Brown read a chap- 
 ter in Psalms, after which a hymn — the beautiful lines 
 commencing with u When through the deep waters He 
 cause you to pass," etc. Then there broke on his aston- 
 ished ear the full, swelling tones of an organ in a fine 
 prelude. He looked up, and saw the interesting but pen- 
 sive face of Lucy May bending over the instrument. To 
 this succeeded that touching harmony, that choir of plain- 
 tive voices sending up pure incense to God. Murray 
 almost imagined that he could see the graceful wreaths as 
 they ascended to the great white throne. "Surely," 
 exclaimed he, " of such is the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Minny 's voice was one of great sweetness — clear, full, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 349 
 
 and gushing, and generally glad, like a thrush on first find- 
 ing himself in summer bowers after the horrors of a long 
 winter. Clarence possessed wonderful vocal powers, which 
 was one great cause of his popularity on the stage. 
 
 Now the hymn is ended, the prayer is over — they rise 
 from their knees, and the adieus for the night have 
 passed. When they were left alone — Minny, Dr. Brown, 
 and Murray — the latter said, with emotion, " My friends, 
 I thank you for this evening, which has done me good ; it 
 has taught me a very important lesson. While sitting 
 there listening to your heartfelt devotion, feeling all the 
 time like an interloper who had no lot nor part in such 
 holy things, the conviction w T as forced on me that there is 
 no happiness save in the discharge of duty — no safety 
 but in the friendship of Christ, no security but in the 
 protection of God." 
 
 " That's all, sir ! Seek first the kingdom, then all things 
 shall be added unto you. And, dear friend, it's na sae 
 hard to find either. If you really do wish to seek it, God 
 will furnish a lamp to your way, and a guide to your 
 feet." 
 
 "But Mrs. Brown, the doctors, and theologic writers 
 do not make it so easy." 
 
 " Ah ! never think o' them now. I can tell you o' an eas- 
 ier way to gang. Come at once to the blessed Jesus ; do not 
 suffer yourself to think him so far off. Do not stand aloof 
 and cry ' O that I could find him ! ' or ' Who will ascend 
 up into heaven to bring Christ down ! ' He is here now 
 in this room with pitying ears, anxious to help us. So 
 will he go with ye, to your ain chamber ; still waiting to 
 catch the first words from the humble, penitent heart. 
 1 God be merciful to me a sinner ! ' This is enough, if the 
 heart is right." 
 
 Murray shakes his head, and adds, u Ah ! But it is not 
 so easy to get the heart right." 
 
350 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Ye canna do it yourself. Ye maun invoke the Holy- 
 Spirit to help ye do even your ain part. If ye have 
 wronged ony one, make restitution ; £ Cease to do evil, and 
 learn to do well ; ' then keep the commandments, tak' up 
 the cross and follow him." 
 
 Dr. Brown is called out, and they are left alone. He 
 then inquires of Minny about the events that had trans- 
 pired during his absence. The elopement of the woman 
 who w T as so near being his wife, excites neither vexation 
 nor surprise. But when Minny tells him that the general 
 verdict is that he perished in the flames, he volunteers to 
 tell the good creature the story. 
 
 After making her acquainted with such facts as the 
 reader already knows, up to his rushing into the lire, he 
 begins : " When I had entered the house, I could not see 
 a yard before me ; all was smoke, and flame, and falling 
 cinders. I forced my way into the rooms on the right, 
 but finding no one there, I essayed to do the same on the 
 left. All now was one mass of flame. Well knowing 
 that no creature could live in that fierce element, I sped 
 on to another apartment which in sheer desperation I 
 would have entered, and of course perished ; but some 
 one jerked me up as though I had been no heavier than 
 the little Clarence there, and carried me from the place. 
 Not a second after, the roof fell in, amid the yells and 
 shrieks of the populace. My hat had been stricken off, 
 and the pain I suffered from burnt eyes and skin for 
 awhile, was so intense that I lost all thought of what was 
 passing. In fact, I think I must have swooned. 
 
 " When I revived, I found myself in a small, neat room, 
 lying on a bed. whose appointments made me think of a 
 snow-bank. Murdoch sat by me, applying some soothing 
 applications to my w T ounds, and a tall, graceful girl passed 
 about the room, engaged in making other preparations. 
 The room was cool and fragrant. But, strange to tell, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 351 
 
 there was not a window in it. A mellow light issued from 
 a perfumed lamp, and I heard at no great distance the 
 music of the feathered songsters. I imagined myself to 
 -be in some grotto, and but for the matter of fact Night 
 Watch sitting there, I should have taken it for a fairy 
 place, and that slight girl for the divinity. My face was 
 covered with plasters, my hands salved over and bound 
 up, my feet poulticed. I looked at Murdoch, who seemed 
 to have escaped almost unscathed. 
 
 u I remembered being borne from the burning house, 
 and seeing that a small portion of those black locks were 
 missing, and his luxuriant whiskers slightly scorched, I 
 immediately ascribed my salvation to his timely aid. I 
 asked him for water, and found that I could scarcely 
 speak, my mouth and throat were both so much inflamed. 
 The girl advanced and gave me a cooling draught, which 
 was instantaneous in its soothing influence. 
 
 " Then I closed my eyes, and perhaps slept ; I know 
 not, but whatever state it was, I found it entrancing. A 
 delicious repose stole over my senses. I felt unequal to 
 the least exertion, either mental or physical. I lay there 
 with my eyes slightly open, if I did not dream ; and 
 thought I saw the same graceful figure flitting before me, 
 appearing to my excited fancy marvelously beautiful. 
 She applied other bandages and plasters to my hands, 
 after having laved them in a cooling lotion. Then stole 
 over my senses the most mellifluous sounds ; soft and 
 faint at first, as if at a distance ; then swelling gradually, 
 until they reached a louder strain. A voice that surely 
 could not have been earthly, sang the following lines, 
 which were so thrilling in their pathos and peculiar appli- 
 cability, that I knew they w x ere improvised. I held my 
 breath lest I should interrupt the sound which I soon got 
 to think was the music of the spheres. O that I could 
 have listened forever. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Sleep, sleep, poor, weary, broken man ! 
 Nor let thy mind stray hence again ; 
 Thou hast done all, performed thy duty; 
 None could do more in cause of beauty. 
 
 See how thy hands are scorch'd and mangled, 
 Thy face so blur'd, thy locks so tangled, 
 Thy very limbs are stiff and sore ; 
 Then take thy rest, and toss no more. 
 
 Come, yield thee now to dreams of gladness ; 
 Hope points the way, then cast off sadness — 
 She whom thou lov'st may yet be thine ; 
 Think, think of this, Oh, bliss divine. 
 
 And then the strain died away, and with it passed all 
 memory of pain, sin, and sorrow. I seemed to have been 
 transported to elysian fields and fairy bowers, where 
 nothing ruder than the soft sighing of the breeze through 
 the myrtle and acacia groves could reach me. I felt my 
 face fanned by the zephyr's wing, as nectar exhaled from 
 the overhanging boughs of the fragrant jessamine. 
 
 " I know not how long I remained in this state, but 
 when I roused up the vision did not pass away. I beheld 
 there by my side, the most miraculously beautiful woman 
 I had ever seen, save one," and his head dropped on his 
 breast. When he raised it, a tear glistened on the lid. 
 " Her eyes w x ere large and lustrous, and dark as night, 
 yet full of light and love. They shone on me with a mild 
 compassion. She was not so fair as my lost Marianna, 
 being what in these climes we call a brilliant brunette. 
 Her features were finely molded and very expressive. 
 Her mouth — O it is folly for me to attempt desertion. 
 Just fancy, as I did, that an angel sat there fanning me 
 with her wings. I lay and gazed at her, as she produced 
 that gentle undulation of the balmy atmosphere with one 
 of those large oriental fans, which it would take a clerk's 
 salary to purchase. 
 
 352 
 
T H E N I G H T W A T H . 
 
 353 
 
 " Seeing me look so steadfastly at her, she leaned over 
 and asked me if I wanted anything. Oh ! how soothing 
 was that sweet voice to my lonely heart! I was still 
 inclined to be feverish, and the only trouble of which I 
 was conscious, was an unappeasable thirst. I asked her 
 again for water. She gave me ice-lemonade ; then felt 
 my pulse, and applied wet napkins to my head and breast. 
 She placed that little soft hand on my heart, and seemed 
 to count its beatings. I know not that its pulse was 
 quickened under the pressure of that hand on the bare 
 surface; but I know it made me think of her — of my own 
 beautiful one. I then caught that hand between both of 
 mine, and entreated her, if she had any pity in her soul, 
 to tell me where I could find her? if she still lived? or 
 whether she had perished in the flames ere I could reach 
 her? 
 
 " She stooped down and kissed my forehead as she said, 
 ' My friend, I can not tell thee much, now. She was 
 saved, and lives ; I may not say where — I have it not at 
 my option to do so yet ; but let this suffice. I have made 
 a vow to suspend my own happiness until she is restored 
 to thee. She shall be. Slight and fragile as thou mayst 
 think me, know that I wield a mighty power; and aided 
 by my coadjutor in works of mercy, I am sometimes 
 invincible. Aye! thou smilest, but no matter. Did I 
 choose to put forth my strength and use my influence, 
 assisted by that most effective and powerful of all engines, 
 the immens.e wealth of my people, I could shake this city 
 to its foundation. But,' said she (falling from that pitch 
 of enthusiasm to which she seemed unguardedly to have 
 risen), in a subdued voice, 1 my friend, the human heart 
 is a most complex thing — a most intricate machine — 
 and must be coaxed, and oiled, and induced, but not made 
 to do. Be patient, and I call father Jacob and all the 
 Patriarchs to witness my vow, that, if life lasts me, I will 
 unravel this mvstery — at all events, I will restore to you 
 30 
 
354 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 that unfortunate lady. My own happiness, as I have 
 said — that for which I have waited since my childhood — 
 is kept in abeyance until your cup is full. I have 
 sworn it.' 
 
 " In my madness, and drunk with revived hopes, as well 
 as the overwhelming admiration for the heavenly crea- 
 ture by my side, I started up in bed and caught her to 
 my breast — imprinting kiss after kiss on her unresisting 
 lips. Then becoming exhausted with effort and excite- 
 ment, I fell back on my pillow, panting and almost faint- 
 ing. When I opened my eyes, she was gone. I knew 
 not how to address her, else would I have given my 
 remaining strength to the winds in calling on her name. 
 
 " My thirst now became consuming, and I roared in 
 agony for drink. In tossing about I chanced to look at 
 the little table. I found there iced wines and lemonades, 
 as well as cold water. I drank, and then the same rich 
 and mellow strain of music lulled me to rest. 
 
 "When I awoke from that natural sleep, I was refreshed, 
 and would have risen and dressed myself, but my feet 
 were still poulticed, and when I sat up, I found my head 
 grew dizzy. Presently a sound like a sliding panel, 
 startled me ; a place opened in what had appeared to me 
 to be a solid wall. Murdoch and my enchantress came in 
 together. She was now dressed most sweetly, in a splen- 
 didly wrought India muslin robe ; her arms and neck 
 were bare, and beautifully plump and round, as those of 
 infancy. She wore a necklace, bracelets, and girdle, all of 
 the finest diamonds. Her black hair fell in graceful 
 ringlets to her waist. She was leaning on Murdoch's 
 arm, and looking up into his face, in a loving, confiding 
 manner. When they approached me I felt my face flush, 
 and I thought I saw an answering suffusion on hers. 
 
 " Murdoch, who is the best man in the world, aided by 
 the lady, opened my wounds, some of which he said were 
 quite healed. Then applying some lubricating liniment 
 
T H E N IGHT WATCH. 
 
 355 
 
 to others, bound them up again. On being asked how I 
 felt, I answered, ' Like a new creature, and quite able to 
 get up.' He replied, 'Yes, after a bit; now take some- 
 thing to eat.' A large waiter containing delicate and 
 nutricious viands, but nothing prepared as I had ever seen 
 it before, was placed on the table. 
 
 u When I had eaten, I asked Murdoch of the time. He 
 said, c It is just dark.' i Dark,' cried I, 'it must be near 
 day; it seems longer than that since we came in.' 'Yes/ 
 replied he, smiling dryly, < it is now more than three 
 days.' 1 Three days,' exclaimed I ; ' it is but one night ; 
 one short and beautiful night.' I looked at the lady. She 
 came to me, took my hand. 1 Now, my friend, I hope thou 
 art refreshed, since thou hast slept' 1 Yes; but my bright, 
 
 my beautiful, my charming one, you must tell me' 
 
 I was startled by a dark, lowering cloud, which over- 
 spread the usually ingenuous and handsome face of the 
 Night Watch. I was appalled; and looking inquiringly 
 at the girl, I stopped speaking. She smiled sadly, and 
 said, 'Alas ! this is one of the evils of my life ! I am kept 
 busy to suppress the " Green-eyed Monster," in more 
 instances than one. But go on, sir.' 
 
 u 4 Murdoch, my good friend," said I, 'come sit down by 
 me.' I placed her little hand in his. 4 Now tell me who 
 is this kind angel who with yourself is laying me under 
 such mighty obligations ? Tell me your name, sweet 
 lady?' ' Thou wilt know it soon; the time has not yet 
 come,' said she. 1 Well, then, tell me, both of you, why 
 this kindly interest for a stranger? why have you lavished 
 this tender care on me?' ' Partly from early education, 
 which taught me to feel it a duty incumbent on me to 
 relieve suffering wherever I meet it, more especially of the 
 stranger within our gates ; partly with the hope of 
 making some restitution to thee for wrongs done by one, 
 who though despised and contemned by your race, and in 
 some measure justly so, is still dear to me ; but above all, 
 
356 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 for the interest I feel in that good, pure, gentle, and 
 beautiful lady; and last, and most of all, would I save 
 those grey hairs another crime!' c Lady, you speak in 
 enigmas ; will you not explain ? ' < I can not, yet. Ask 
 me no further. We are doing all we can for thee. Mur- 
 doch, do thine errand.' And -she vanished. 
 
 " He then informed me of the illness of my mother, 
 telling me he had just learned from the doctor that she 
 would not live through the night. I immediately rose, 
 and with his assistance dressed myself When he saw 
 that I was ready to leave he came up to me and said with 
 some confusion, < Col. Murray, you are in the Jews' Quarter. 
 And you know they have been in this place, as everywhere, 
 a reviled and abused people ; though not hunted like wild 
 beasts, as they are in some countries, for acts which, in the 
 Christian, passes for peccadilloes, but in the Jew become 
 crime. A body of these have formed themselves into a con- 
 federacy, and have built up for their present sojourn, this 
 street. The better for security, they keep up this mys- 
 tery and gloomy secrecy. No Christian has ever left these 
 walls exactly as he came. Your being here is unknown 
 to all save the girl and myself It is usual (if permitted 
 to leave the place at all) to go forth either blindfolded, or 
 led out during the night when darkness covers the earth. 
 It is different with you. Your simple word, that you will 
 observe nothing; or if you do, that you will not use it for 
 the detriment of the inhabitants, is sufficient. I leave it 
 to your own honor. I will not even ask a promise.' 
 
 • " <Ah! think you,' I cried, 'I could sacrifice those who 
 have saved and nursed me, to an abstract principle of 
 good ? I hope your heart does not harbor a doubt of me? 1 
 He added quickly, ' Sa}^ no more ; I do not suspect/ 
 And so we left by some curious, winding, stairway. 
 After we reached the street, which seemed to be at least 
 a mile from the top, without any other incident, I got 
 home at midnight, as you know." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 357 
 
 "JSTow, my friend, you must advise me as to the best 
 course. My mother told me that I should seek her of 
 * Old Faggot the Jew.' The girl pledged herself to 
 restore her to me. .Had I better wait for the fulfillment 
 of that pledge, or tempt the cupidity of the old extor- 
 tioner, by offering a ransom ? " 
 
 Dr. Brown approved of the last plan, but Minny 
 opposed it. She thought Murdoch and the girl would 
 bring all things to light, if left alone. Moreover, she 
 feared Myra would be hurt, if they gave the affair any 
 publicity. 
 
 " There is, sir, a stronger reason for that incognita 
 than ye wot of." Then going to a small cabinet which 
 stood in the corner, she took from it a roll of papers. " If 
 ye willtak' the trouble to read this, ye can then see what 
 cause that puir body had for mourning and greeting sae 
 much. She gave it to me the night she received your let- 
 ter. Ah ! that letter came very near killing the puir 
 body." But Murray, feeling quite innocent of all design 
 to wound, did not inquire into the cause; supposing 
 that Minny meant only, that she was greatly agitated 
 by receiving his communication. 
 
 Dr. Brown now came in, and looking at his watch, 
 informed them that it w x as long after midnight. Said he 
 must interrupt any further conversation for the present ; 
 that it was all important for Murray to rest. So he laid 
 his commands on him to retire at once. He then 
 attempted to take the manuscript from him, and chided 
 Minny for being so thoughtless. 
 
 But w T hen the poor, nervous man, saw that he was to 
 be left in solitude, he entreated Mrs. Brown to sit with 
 him while he read, declaring' it was out of the question 
 to think of sleep in his frame of mind. That dear little 
 embodiment of obligingness had never learned the art of 
 saying no, consequently she passed into her room for a 
 
358 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 moment, said a few words to her husband, which were 
 satisfactory, and returned to Col. Murray. 
 
 They seated themselves by the large lamp, and he com- 
 menced the journal. It had been written at different 
 times, with a view more to relieve her pent up feelings, 
 than with any ulterior object. In many places the paper 
 was blotted, and sometimes defaced, as if scalding tears 
 had been sprinkled over its pages. Toward day, Minny 
 was called to her own room, and Murray retired to his, 
 but not to sleep. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 859 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE JOURNAL. THE FAR PAST RECALLED. 
 
 " 'Twas pretty, though a plague, 
 To see him every hour : to sit and draw 
 His arch'cl brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
 On our heart's table." 
 
 In childhood, I never knew anything of happiness, 
 other than such as was imparted to me by the plaintive, 
 tender caresses of an invalid mother. I never dreamed 
 of joy, felt gladness, or experienced delight save by asso- 
 ciation with my little cousin, Charles Conrad Murray. It 
 would be a vain and idle task to endeavor to make any 
 one comprehend how I loved that boy, or cherished that 
 mother. They constituted the whole world of enjoyment 
 to me, which was bounded by my desire to please them. 
 
 I was an only child ; my parents had been married 
 seven years when I was born. This was a long season 
 of anxious sadness to my mother, and of irascibility, 
 combined with a corroding dissatisfaction on the part of 
 my father ; for he was for some family interest feverishly 
 anxious to have male issue. He became estranged from 
 his wife, left home, plunged into pleasures, which led to 
 dissipation ; sought other firesides, to the total neglect of 
 his own ; became, as I was told by my nurse, greatly 
 enamored of another lady. 
 
 This honest creature had taken care of me from my 
 birth. She almost fancied that I belonged to her. She 
 loved and pitied my mother, and most cordially disliked 
 my father ; therefore took every opportunity to resent his 
 
360 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 neglect of us. She was a single-minded and upright 
 woman, did what she believed to be her duty, in defiance 
 of all obstacles and discouragements. She conceived the 
 erroneous notion that it was her duty to keep me informed 
 of all those grievances which tended to increase the 
 instinctive dread and distrust I had of my father, as w T ell 
 as the tender devotion I felt for my mother. 
 
 During my babyhood, my cousin Conrad was my con- 
 stant attendant. Like me, he had no companions at 
 home, no playmates, and was left much to the care of the 
 servants. His father was first cousin to my mother, and 
 as long as he lived, was her devoted friend. He died soon 
 after my parents were married, and before the birth of 
 his son. His wife had been a dashing belle and great 
 beauty. She was besides, shrewd, diplomatic, and artful ; 
 full of all sort of finesse. She was never known to yield 
 to feeling but once throughout her whole life. With her, 
 affection, virtue, and all domestic duties were made sub- 
 ordinate to worldly ambition and a feeling of revenge. 
 Into these two evil j^assions were submerged all gentler 
 emotions, and every impulse of good. 
 
 The one grand passion of her life was deep, intense, 
 ungovernable love for Doctor Glencoe, my father. I know 
 not whether he reciprocated it, but my family chronicles 
 state that he preferred my mother, who was the antithe- 
 sis of the fashionable beauty, and the very antipodes of 
 my vain, worldly father. But she had one possession, 
 immense wealth, which if she had been blessed, or 
 cursed, with the one-hundredth part of their " cleverness^ 
 could have made them vassals to her, instead of des- 
 pots over her, as they were. But my mother w^as soft, 
 gentle, and yielding, and seemed fitted only for the domes- 
 tic sphere of affectionate wife and tender mother. Alas ! 
 she met no response in the first relation ; in the last, God 
 is my final judge, but my own heart acquits me of all 
 blame. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 361 
 
 My first vivid impressions were, that I was very happy, 
 very much blessed in having that dear mother, sweet lit- 
 tle cousin, and good old nurse. My cousin was a spirited 
 little man, a very high-toned gentleman, for his years. 
 Yet to my mother and myself he was as bland as the 
 sweet breath of flowers, and as beautiful as the face of 
 nature — even as much so as my own little Clarence. (Here 
 the paper was blistered with tears.) 
 
 He was in the habit of coming over every morning to 
 read to my mother. Sometimes he would stand by her 
 bedside and fan her, while I would learn a little lesson. 
 Then in the richest voice in the world he would say, 
 "Now, cousin Myra (my mother's name), I will hear 
 pet's lesson." So day after day this scene of perfect love 
 and trust was enacted in the chamber of the suffering, but 
 uncomplaining invalid. At last we got to watch for his 
 coming, and our hearts learned to bound, while gladness 
 sparkled up from the depths of that sick, oppressed soul, 
 and mine leaped with joy, and sprang to meet him as to 
 its home. Then I would rush into his arms, and almost 
 smother him with kisses. My mother looked on and 
 smiled her approbation, while a faint " G-od bless you, my 
 children," would escape her. 
 
 There arise before me now visions of my childhood, so real 
 that I seem to live over that " auld lang syne." Now I am 
 seven years old and he is twelve. Neither one of us has 
 been sent to school. His mother is quite absorbed in the 
 dissipations of the place, a large commercial city, and 
 very fashionable withal ; the only aristocracy being a 
 monied one. Mrs. Murray, as I have said before, lacked 
 means to carry out her splendid projects of grandeur, so 
 essential to the gratification of her burning thirst to be 
 the leader of ton. It seems my father was her adviser 
 and abettor in all those schemes of self-aggrandizement. 
 
 There was nothing which they would not have done, no 
 sacrifice was too great to be made, in order to compass their 
 31 
 
362 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 ends. My old nurse used to say to me c Dear child, they 
 would sell you both — poor little lambs — to the soul driv- 
 ers, for fifty thousand dollars, provided they could keep it 
 a secret ; then they'd divide it atween 'em.' This woman 
 w T as a mulatto, and extremely good-looking for a negro ; 
 had very mild, benevolent features ; I can never forget 
 her ; she is linked in my memory with the only days of 
 sunshine I ever knew, and the only other two beings 
 whom I have ever loved. When a girl herself, she had 
 carried my mother about in her arms, and now she is her 
 friend and companion, and oftentimes her only solace. 
 She divides this mighty love between myself and mother, 
 and at this time lavishes as much care and attention on me, 
 as she had done heretofore on her. 
 
 Still, this generous-hearted negress had her faults : she 
 was more loving than discreet or discriminating. I owe 
 it to her early influence, that I am inclined to suspect all 
 great professions of friendship ; to look for hollo wness or 
 something worse beneath all beautiful exteriors ; to fear, 
 that every bright, smooth surface, if not quite transpar- 
 ent, conceals a turbid under-current. Whether she had 
 ever experienced the mildew of hope or the blight of affec- 
 tion, I know not ; but there was a tide of bitterness ever 
 surging up, which oftentimes engulphed the otherwise 
 placid stream of her life. Conrad, as well as myself, hon- 
 ored and loved this woman. 
 
 I had forgotten to state, that Mrs. Murray, in her own 
 total neglect of her son, had provided a private tutor for 
 him — a poor relation, who w T as good, and moral, and vir- 
 tuous. Thanks to him for the solid foundation on which 
 was afterward reared that beautiful superstructure. 
 
 About this time, when I am nine years old and my 
 cousin is sixteen, a great change is taking place in our 
 household. My father is seized with a sudden concern 
 about my mother's health. He comes, "Oh, strange to 
 tell," to see her sometimes. On one of these occasions, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 363 
 
 affects to feel anxious about her ; places his finger on her 
 pulse, and tells her she is feverish. In a kind voice, regrets 
 that she will exert herself, and thus put forth her strength 
 to her own injury, about her daughter. (He always spoke 
 of me thus.) That the superintending the education of 
 such a willful girl must be a great tax, and would prove 
 too much for her feeble frame. 
 
 During this colloquy, my nurse, cousin, and myself were 
 sitting behind a large screen which my mother kept before 
 the oriel window to break the light from her eyes, which 
 were weak, I think, from much weeping. Nurse had given 
 the sign for silence, and in an instant we became as mute 
 as the chairs on which we sat. My father continued to 
 speak, and nurse to curl her lip in scorn. 
 
 " Myra, my love, indeed you over -task yourself with 
 those two children. That boy of Mrs. Murray is always 
 here, and in fact seems to share your fondness equally 
 with your own little girl. ISTow Mrs. Murray is a woman 
 whom I do not like. She is all for self; I do not think 
 she should impose this trouble on you merely to allow 
 herself more latitude for frivolity, and because the lad's 
 father was your cousin, and perchance a cidevant lover. n 
 
 He said this with acrimony; for notwithstanding he 
 did not love my mother himself, he was jealous by 
 nature, and could not endure that any one else should 
 love her. His only feeling for us both was that of the 
 tyrant for the victim, the master for the slave. We were 
 his, and none must meddle : he must do with us as seem- 
 eth him best, and none must pluck us out of his hands. 
 As to myself, my position with my parent was truly unfor- 
 tunate ; he never forgave me, from the moment of my 
 birth up to the present time, " for not being a boy." I 
 committed the unpardonable sin in this first act, and was 
 therefore doomed to bear his everlasting displeasure. 
 
 It was in vain that my mother declared herself able to 
 proceed with the same course ; in vain that she protested 
 
364 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 against any innovation, and assured him that the pleasure 
 she felt in imparting instruction to me, and in the com- 
 panionship of her little cousin Charles, were the greatest 
 sources of enjoyment left her. She wept, and sobbed, and 
 finally became ill. Then he left, with an awful impreca- 
 tion on everything. As soon as he w T as gone, we both ran 
 to the bedside of my poor mother, and blended our pro- 
 testations of love and duty, with our lamentations for her 
 sorrows. 
 
 Much to our surprise my father returned ; both hands 
 full of nostrums. Mrs. Murray was with him. On seeing 
 us, he looked annoyed, and there was an angry rebuke 
 ready on his tongue ; but when she said, " Why, Conrad, 
 what are you doing here in a lady's bed-room, at such a 
 time as this?" the scowl faded from his face, and he 
 stopped to listen to the oracle from whence he drew his 
 inspiration. 
 
 My cousin had laid my mother's hand down, and 
 speaking up boldly, dared to say to his imperious mother, 
 " Madam, I am here to aid my little cousin Anna, in her 
 efforts to bring her poor mother to life : for by heavens ! 
 she is fretted out of it." And he gave an angry, defiant 
 glance at my father. 
 
 " Leave the room, sir," said his autocratic mother. 
 
 " No, my dear Madam," said my diplomatic father, 
 smiling blandly on her, and turning condescendingly to 
 my cousin, as he placed his hand on his head, " let him 
 remain. My dear wife is very fond of her little cousin, 
 and I assure you it does us all good to have him with 
 us. Besides I think, from present symptoms, he inclines 
 to be a disciple of Esculapius, and will doubtless take his 
 first lesson with his cousin John." 
 
 The boy jumped away from him, throwing his hand 
 violently off, and, with flashing eyes and quivering lips, 
 said : 
 
 M Sir I demand an explanation of this taunting insult." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 365 
 
 He stood in a menacing attitude, while his ashen face, 
 rigid features, and stern, statuesque figure expressed 
 intensified anger. He had heard my father's conversa- 
 tion with my mother, ami young as he was, he was the 
 embodiment of honor, candor, and truth. 
 
 " Leave the room, I say, sir ! " The boy did not stir. 
 
 The red spot is on the lady's cheek, and she bites her 
 lip until the blood shows on her teeth ; but she controls 
 herself while she adds, " Charles Conrad Murray, I bade 
 you leave this room. Your preceptor is waiting for you, 
 while you waste your time in silly dalliance with that 
 weak little girl, and her worse than imbecile mother." 
 He looked at me deprecatingly, and then threw a glance 
 of boundless pity on the invalid, and left the room. 
 
 The patient soon revived — for my father was a 
 prompt, skillful, and efficient practitioner. Then the two 
 conspirators sat down there by the bedside of my poor, 
 weak, sick, and confiding mother ; and ere they left, she 
 was willing to believe that that woman, with the oily 
 tongue, and Siren voice, was the best friend she had in 
 the world ; and that it was her great misfortune, and not 
 my father's fault, that he did not love her ; and so she 
 yielded to that drug, administered to both body and mind, 
 and fell asleep, sweetly and soundly, never doubting or 
 suspecting. 
 
 " Molly, take that malapert girl to her room, and do not 
 let her leave it until I give my permission," said Doctor 
 Glencoe. 
 
 When we were there and the door closed, the good 
 creature threw herself into a chair, and taking me in her 
 arms, burst into tears. Her sobs were varied by such 
 interjections as the following: "Poor Miss Myra! she trust 
 everybody ! Anybody can fool that dear cretur ! I'm 
 that mad and sorry, too, that I can't hardly breathe the 
 breath of life ! Thar they is, setting thar by the poor 
 thing, plotting, plotting ! And they want to begin on this 
 
366 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 child. (Then she presses me violently to her bosom — 
 well-nigh crushing every bone in my body.) But they 
 shan't! I'll — I'll watch 'em ! I'll head 'em this time! 
 Old Molly Wise didn't live with her young mistress thirty 
 years or more, and with her father all her lifetime, to let 
 neither one nor the t'other of his offsprings fall into the 
 hands of the cruel fowler, nor the Witch of Vendor, 
 neither. She didn't, that! No, I'll save this one — I 
 will! Ha! ha! ha! He say he don't like that woman ! 
 I wonder ef he did fool poor Miss Myra that away ? " 
 
 I looked up into her face, I suppose with amazement; 
 for, with aii impatient gesture, she said, "What you look 
 at me that away for, child? What you want ? " 
 
 £C Aunt Molly, you don't think my father would tell 
 his wife a story, do you ? He would not do such a base 
 thing." 
 
 "Story! bless God! call things by thar right name; 
 call it lie. Yes, he will tell her lie, and do any thing else, 
 so that he can blind her eye against the wiles of that 
 woman." 
 
 " Why, does papa love her more than he loves mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes, honey, else he wouldn't love her much." 
 
 " Oh ! Aunt Molly, tell me why? why does he love her 
 more than he does my gentle, sweet mother? Is it 
 because she is dashing and splendid looking — and — " 
 
 " Yes, lamb, all that, and because she's a snake, and can 
 charm everybody she chooses ; and because your mother 
 is innocent and pure, and child-like, and loving, and can't 
 head 'em ; but above all, because she's sick, because she's 
 sick ! " and the faithful slave almost shrieked out the last 
 words ; so great was her indignation against them, and 
 so strong the feeling of compassion for my mother. 
 
 " Poor dear mamma ! " cried I ; " may God help her, 
 then ! If what you say be true, she will need it." And I 
 crept from her arms, and laid me down on the carpet, and 
 cried myself to sleep. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 367 
 
 When I awoke it was almost night, and in that room 
 nearly dark; Aunt Molly sat nodding in her chair. I 
 think I see her now, with her brown calico dress on, and 
 white apron, with blue and yellow madras hander chief 
 on her head. I shook her, until she awoke; then told 
 her I was hungry. " Poor child ! He order me to keep 
 you in this room tell he call you ! Well ! honey, Aunt 
 Molly is nigger, she 'bleege to obey orders if she loose 
 her life by it. She been do that all her lifetime. But 
 bless God! that call aint come yit. Dinner bell ring, then 
 tea bell sound, and still that call aint come." 
 
 A very lady -like tap at the door, Molly opens it, and 
 Mrs. Murray enters, looking flushed and excited. " Good 
 heavens, Molly ! what do you mean by not bringing the 
 girl to see her mother for so long, and to the table? " 
 
 " Humph ! I obey orders, mam ; that's what I mean." 
 " Surely you were not so silly as to understand Dr. Glen- 
 coe literally? Why, he did not mean what he said at all." 
 
 " Yes, mam, I is jest that silly, and being a literal 
 'oman, I thought he did mean ezactly what he did say. 
 But I suppose by this time there be no longer any reason 
 to keep us out of the way any more. I hope he feels 
 better under it ail." This was said with the look and 
 voice of concentrated sarcasm. 
 
 Mrs. Murray's beautiful face flushed up, and I saw hate 
 blaze in her eyes ; but she sat down and began to talk 
 very mildly, and in a short time the surface was as 
 smooth as ever. She smiled sweetly on Molly and said, 
 "Ah ! nurse, on account of your many good qualities, and 
 in view of your tried fidelity to our family, your tongue 
 is a licensed one. Here, Molly, take this douceur and 
 make a little feast to compensate for the loss of your din- 
 ner." She reached out a piece of gold coin, and, much to 
 my grief and mortification, Molly received it. 
 
 I have remarked one thing with regard to our slaves. 
 Let them be ever so true and faithful in the discharge of 
 
368 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 duty, let them even scorn, as they do sometimes, the 
 remotest imputation of dishonesty in stealing, or in all 
 other criminal transactions, still they are open to this 
 temptation. I have known many instances of heroism, 
 self-abnegation, and noble devotion in the slave to his 
 master; yet I have never met one who had the strength 
 of purpose and magnanimity of soul to resist and spurn 
 a bribe. 
 
 So this little piece of gold had a very lubricating influ- 
 ence on the before stern feelings of the good, honest 
 (according to the negro standard) Molly. And when the 
 smiling, urbane, and snaky lady said, u Come, my good 
 woman, assist Marianna to dress, and let her come down 
 quickly to tea," she said not a word, but proceeded to obey 
 her. 
 
 When Mrs. Murray had left, she gave a little, low w r his- 
 tle, which ended with a sinister sort of chuckle, and wound 
 up by saying, " Well, bless God ! I don't reckon the man 
 can help it, and I won't be so hard on him hereafter. I 
 jest does believe that she fascinates him, and gets round 
 him so like a witch, or a fairy, or a serpent, as she does 
 everybody w T hat comes in her way. I 'spect he can't help 
 hisself, and so does whatever she wants him." 
 
 "Do you think, Aunt Molly, she employs the same 
 means to win papa that she has used with you, to-night?" 
 
 " Oh hush, child ! you don't know what you is talking 
 about," and the blood mantled her tawny cheeks, sent 
 there by a feeling of shame, which for a short time had 
 hid itself away in some curtained place of her naturally 
 upright heart. " You'll be jest like all the rest under her 
 thumb in less than no time ; then I'll ask you hard ques- 
 tions, too." 
 
 I was now ready to descend to the parlor. On passing 
 my mother's room, 1 ran in to kiss her. I found Conrad 
 there, reading to her. When I took my cousin's hand to 
 lead him down to tea, as I had done almost every day for 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 369 
 
 the last five years, he withdrew it, and stooping down, 
 kissed my cheek, as he said, u I can not, cousin Anna. I 
 will never set at that man's table again, until he apologi- 
 zes to me for that insult. I hate him, anyhow. Oh ! how 
 I do hate him ! " 
 
 u I don't like him either," said I; " but I fear I commit 
 a sin when I say so. It is no harm for you, you know, 
 cousin, but he is my father, and all that, and you " 
 
 "Hush ! children ; I can not listen to you. You dis- 
 tress me greatly. I must never hear such conversation 
 between you, again. Charles, you should teach your little 
 cousin better things." 
 
 Another summons called me to the tea-table, wmere Mrs. 
 Murray presided with great majesty, looking radiant in 
 spirits and beauty. 
 
 Now, for the first time, I watched my father ; and the 
 conviction entered my soul like an ice-bolt, that what I had 
 heard from my nurse was true. He did indeed seem to be 
 under a spell. I think I never saw him look so happy in 
 my life, and I know he never looked half so handsome. 
 
 There were a few other guests present, who seemed 
 much disposed to caress and flatter me ; but when one of 
 the gentlemen offered to lead me to the piano, saying, 
 " Come, Miss Clencoe, you must sing me that very beau- 
 tiful song I heard you play the other evening " (my mother 
 had taught me music on three instruments), and I had 
 taken my seat at the instrument, having run my fingers 
 over the prelude, Mrs. Murray came hurriedly from the 
 hall, and said, " My dear — excuse me, sir," bowing to the 
 gentleman — "your mother wishes to see you for a 
 moment." 
 
 "Is she w T orse? " cried I, starting up, " Is anything the 
 matter?" 
 
 " Yes — no — I don't know. She wants to see you ; go 
 and see." 
 
 I darted up stairs ; but ere I reached my mother's room, 
 
370 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 I heard Mrs. Murray's loud and rather fine voice in 
 the same song. When I entered, I found all things 
 just as I had left them. Conrad is reading ; my mother 
 is very composed, and Aunt Molly is sitting by, nod- 
 ding. When I asked her why she had sent for me in 
 such haste, she seemed surprised, and said she had 
 not even asked for me. I then related what occurred 
 in the parlor. Nurse sat shaking in her chair. " He ! 
 he ! he ! I told you so ; everybody, great and small, must 
 mind that 'oman." 
 
 So time passed, and my dear mother grew more feeble 
 every day. In a few months she has become so emacia- 
 ted that she can scarcely rise from her bed. My cousin 
 is still untiring in his attentions. He also superintends 
 my education. There is no great change in the family 
 during the two years that have glided so quietly away, 
 save that I am sometimes frightened at the strength of 
 my affection for my boy lover. Oh what halcyon days 
 were those ! and how joyous they would have been but 
 for that poor, sick, suffering mother. During all this time, 
 she is still the same patient woman, the meek invalid, the 
 resigned Christian. We are sitting in her room to-day, 
 as of yore. I am reciting my lesson to my cousin : my 
 mother is holding a hand of each. My father comes on 
 us suddenly. He frowns darkly on Conrad, then turning 
 to me, said, " Marianna, I have private business with your 
 mother. Take your books to your own room. I don't 
 know whether this young gentleman will choose to fol- 
 low you there or not, but he really does seem to have the 
 run of this horse very completely." 
 
 An imploring look toward my cousin from my mother, 
 and a frightened one from me, quelled the storm which 
 was ready to burst over my father's head at the slightest 
 provocation. He kissed her hand (and I think with a feel- 
 ing of defiance, and a mischievous desire to brave my 
 father on his own premises), threw his arms around my 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 371 
 
 neck and embraced me with much apparent unction, 
 bowed with mock reverence to Doctor Glencoe, and with 
 a taunting laugh ran out of the room. Nurse drew me 
 along to the aforementioned screen, behind which she 
 ensconced herself and forced me down by her side. 
 
 " Myra," said my father, " I fear you are declining very 
 rapidly. I can no longer delay it. I am resolved to have 
 a lady in the house with you, as a friend and companion ; 
 one who can aid you, or take the entire charge of your 
 daughter's education. I hope you will not attempt to resist 
 my commands, when I say that that forward boy, whom 
 I have just sent away, must be banished from this house 
 forever. On no account let me hear of his being admit- 
 ted to your private room, your bed-chamber, again. Why 
 surely, madam, the innate delicacy of your nature slept, 
 when you consented to receive that young man here, every 
 day as you lie in bed, undressed, and your daughter, too, 
 present, when she is now also a young woman ; at least 
 she is verging toward it." 
 
 When I heard this I was seized with a w T ild, vague 
 sort of fear. I had never thought of our ever being young 
 men and women. My mother was lying with her eyes 
 shut, seeming not to heed him. 
 
 "Myra, do you hear me?" said he, slowly, and trem- 
 bling with anger at the mere possibility of his having 
 spoken so many words in vain. She nodded her head, 
 but did not open her eyes. " Then, remember what I say, 
 Will you?" 
 
 u Ah yes ! and may God forgive you for saying it, and 
 for thinking of such a thing. There are but few avenues 
 left open to me for enjoyment, now. When you have 
 closed this one, I know not where I shall turn. I fear it 
 is the last." 
 
 " Why,' you do indeed attach very great importance to 
 the society of this son of your old lover." 
 
372 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " A truce to all nonsense ! I have no heart for such 
 folly, and I will not listen to it. State your business 
 simply and succinctly, else leave me alone." 
 
 " Hoity, toity ! This is a new phase on the face of 
 things. What is in the wind now ? " 
 
 " Proceed, sir. A worm will turn sometimes, when 
 trod on." 
 
 " Aye ! And sting, maybe, hey? Wouldst sting thy hus- 
 band? Ha! ha! ha! Wouldst sting thy loving husband, 
 Myra?" 
 
 I struggled in the grasp of the nurse; I burned to 
 confront this hard, cruel father, and demand of him, child 
 as I was, how he dared thus to maltreat my gentle 
 mother. But the woman held me fast, and I was forced 
 to listen. 
 
 " Now, there really is no use in all this. I rather think 
 I am master of this establishment ; and have very little 
 idea of submitting to dictation, or the least bit of rebel- 
 lion in my province. I have written for my niece 
 Amanda Glencoe (who about a year since lost her 
 parents), to come and reside with us. I therefore request 
 you to receive her as a relation, and shall require you to 
 make her home as comfortable as possible, in her uncle's 
 house. Are you pleased or displeased with this announce- 
 ment, madam?" 
 
 My mother did not speak. 
 
 " Myra, I have asked you a question. Will you do me 
 the honor to answer me now, or must I repeat it?" said 
 my father, angrily. 
 
 " I have no power to resist your commands, whether 
 pleasing or otherwise," said his poor wife. 
 
 " Then it is settled. And I shall expect you to deport 
 yourself becomingly toward the wealthy, high bred rela- 
 tion of your husband," said my father, with pride. 
 
 " When will she arrive, sir?" 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 373 
 
 " I think in a week or less time. 'Now promise me, 
 my wife, that you will discard from your presence that 
 insolent boy ; I mean young Murray, who is not a fit 
 associate for your daughter." 
 
 " I w T ill not promise, sir. I will not do such violence 
 to my nature. I shall not deny myself or my child this 
 innocent enjoyment." 
 
 After a few more taunts and angry words from my 
 father, and a firm resistance against his unreasonable 
 exactions from my mother, he left the room. 
 
374 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE JOURNAL A GIFT. 
 
 " Though my many faults defaced me, 
 Could no other arm be found, 
 Than the one which once embraced me 
 To inflict a cureless wound." 
 
 A week passed, and the lady has not come ; another 
 has glided by, and she is not here. My mother seems to 
 feel relieved by this respite. She experiences an indefin- 
 able sort of dread of my cousin Amanda Grlencoe. A fore- 
 boding of evil has taken possession of her mind, in view 
 of her becoming an inmate of our house. 
 
 One morning, finding her disposed to talk, I said : 
 "Mamma, did you ever see Miss Amanda Glencoe?" 
 
 " ]STo, my dear, I have never seen her, and would to 
 God I never could see her." 
 
 " Why, mamma ? My dear mother, tell me why ? I will 
 not speak of it." 
 
 " "Will you not, my love ? " said she, kissing me. " I 
 know you are a very good girl, and astonishingly discreet 
 for one so young. I should not fear to tell you anything. 
 First, your father's relations are very supercilious — very 
 fond of wealth and splendid show. They have never for- 
 given me, because my fortune was not commensurate to 
 their expectations, which were boundless. This young 
 lady and her brother, though, are themselves, both 
 wealthy. In consequence of many deaths in their imme- 
 diate family, they have become, I'm told, possessed of an 
 immense estate." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 375 
 
 " Well, mamma, if she is so rich, she may not share 
 that spite toward you with the balance of them." 
 
 " Perhaps not, my darling ; but I can not feel otherwise 
 than I do. I have known nothing but sorrow and vexa- 
 tion since I first heard the name of Glencoe. I never 
 hear it even now, but a sort of shivering seizes upon me. 
 Would to God you were old enough to change it, my little 
 daughter." 
 
 " Mamma, may 1 ask you a question? You will not be 
 offended?" 
 
 " Certainly not. Speak, my love." 
 
 " Was not yours a match of affection ? " 
 
 " On my part, intensely so. But constant bickerings, 
 cross looks, without words; slights, without open neglect; 
 petty persecutions, without cause or reason ; all these 
 little things without one overt act of maltreatment, will 
 break down and destroy the most ardent affection ; even 
 as the tide against the firmest rock, which has breasted 
 many a storm, by daily surgings will wear it away at 
 last. And now, my love, my dear little daughter, your 
 mother has told you the secret of her soul, which is the 
 groundwork of that resignation to the seeming stern 
 decree which calls me away from my child ! I have no 
 hope, no confidence, no respect, therefore no love for my 
 husband!" My mother covered her face with her thin, 
 white hands, and remained quite still. 
 
 I wept for a long time, then suddenly recollecting what 
 the nurse had told me about my father's infatuation for 
 Mrs. Murray, I looked up quickly. 
 
 " Mamma, is there any reason for this behavior on the 
 part of my father, that you know of?" 
 
 " Yes, child, perhaps so, I don't know ; we will not 
 investigate it. The Glencoes are inconstant by nature. 
 They are wayward, willful, capricious, and jealous, as I 
 too well know. The old lady, your grandmother, is an 
 exception." 
 
376 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " When shall I ever see her, mamma ? " 
 
 " I do not know, child ; I wish she were coming instead 
 of this girl. 'Now call Molly, my dear." 
 
 When the nurse came, my mother whispered to her for 
 some time, and I heard the woman say — 
 
 "Yes, mam, if there was any way to get to see him; 
 but every servant in the house is ordered to shut the door 
 in his face. He has already been turned twice away by 
 your order." 
 
 " Oh ! what a system of fraud and duplicity is carried 
 on in this house ! But, nurse, this only makes the neces- 
 sity more imperative. 
 
 " Molly, I must see that dear boy. I may die suddenly, 
 and ere I do, I wish to commend my child, as if in the 
 hour of death, to his care. When Miss Glencoe is once 
 established here, then will there be no opportunity. I 
 feel that she is to be a spy on this household." 
 
 " Ah yes ! dear child ! I knows that too, and there is 
 no time to lose ; the room all put in order, and the Doctor 
 expecting her every minit. ,, 
 
 When we left my mother's room, nurse caught me up 
 in her arms, and told me that my mother wanted to give 
 me to my cousin for his little wife, and that she was in 
 great dread lest she should die before she could get to see 
 him. Therefore, she was going to smuggle him up to her 
 room by the private stairway. How strange I felt ! I 
 had always claimed my cousin as belonging to myself and 
 mother, and knew that we both loved him as dearly as we 
 did each other, which w T as much more than we loved our- 
 selves : but I felt now, that I should not feel the same 
 freedom toward him, and knew this would pain him ; 
 therefore I dreaded the meeting. 
 
 All day the good Aunt Molly was lying in wait. She 
 hung about the street. (Mrs. Murray lived opposite.) 
 She went over to the kitchen, and watched about the 
 premises. In the course of an incidental gossip, she 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 377 
 
 learned that their young master was in a strange way; 
 that he would not eat ; did not sleep ; had thrown by 
 his books, and refused to see any one about the house, and 
 that they "raily and sartainly" did " b'lieve that she was 
 at the head and foot of the whole of it." 
 
 Molly asked carelessly where he was ? They told her 
 he was locked up in his room. " Then," said she, rising, 
 " I must see him." 
 
 " Aye, gal ; ef you gits to see him, you smarter 'an any 
 nigger's bin 'bout dis house lately." 
 
 She had gotten almost to his door, when Mrs. Murray 
 came out from an adjoining room, and said, very quietly, 
 " Well, Molly, how are all at home to-day ? I hope your 
 poor mistress is better. See here, I have a new recipe 
 for her. Come into my room." And then she kept on 
 talking, in that sweet seductive way which was peculiar 
 to her. 
 
 Presently Molly said, " I wish to see Mr. Conrad a 
 minute." 
 
 " Yes, I will go and tell him at once ; but, poor fellow, 
 he is not well. Something is the matter with his chest, I 
 fear." She returned, and said, still smiling, but now in a 
 would-be plaintive way, " Molly, he begs to be excused 
 to-day, on the score of bad feelings. Is it anything to 
 which I can attend? " 
 
 H Oh no, ma'am, jest a little business 'twixt he and me." 
 Susan, the lady's maid, looked at Molly knowingly, and 
 turned up her eyes with a very " Now, did you ever" sort 
 of expression. 
 
 The lady then showed the negro out herself, talking 
 rapidly all the time. But this good creature never ceased 
 her vigilance. She resorted to various subterfuges and 
 devices, but they all failed. After a while, Susan came 
 over, and said her mistress never went near her young 
 master's room to deliver Molly's message. Then she was 
 entrusted with one, but that also, like every other expe- 
 32 
 
378 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 client, fell to the ground. My mother seemed to grow 
 nervous under these disappointments, and was threatened 
 with severe illness. 
 
 Toward night my father came in ; and, after giving her 
 the usual attention from physician to patient, said, u Myra, 
 to-morrow my niece will arrive at mid-day ; I am called 
 into the country. (He had his riding gloves and wdiip 
 in his hand, and was booted and spurred.) I may not get 
 back in time to introduce you." 
 
 " Very well," said she, closing her eyes. 
 
 After I had given my mother her tea, and taken my 
 own supper, I seated myself by her bedside with a book, 
 for I had now taken my banished cousin's place. Molly 
 came with her knitting, and dropped down into the low 
 chair in which she always sat, and was preparing for her 
 usual nap. 
 
 " O Molly, this would be such a good time to see 
 Conrad." 
 
 " Yes indeed, honey, but I don't know now how you 
 gwine to manage. I done try every 'spedient a'ready. 
 But I does think if Miss Pet would jest go right along up 
 stairs, she maybe might catch him; and if so, then my 
 advice is to tell him above board that her mother wants 
 to see him, no matter who hears." 
 
 My mother looked at her watch, and said, " Yes, that 
 will do. I will not give you any message or direction, 
 but will trust to chance, and whatever tact you may pos- 
 sess. Throw your cloak on, and let Molly go with you 
 and wait at the street door." 
 
 When we reached there, the servant, who was on very 
 good terms with nurse, suffered me to pass without any 
 noise or delay. It w r as now near nine o'clock. I ran 
 lightly up stairs, looking to the right and left, and every- 
 where for my cousin. I found Mrs. Murray's confidential 
 maid, Tivvy, fast asleep on her post. She had been placed 
 as sentinel to guard the door. I tapped lightly, but 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 379 
 
 receiving no invitation to" enter, I opened the door and 
 walked into Mrs. Murray's boudoir. 
 
 For one moment I was transfixed to the spot. There 
 sat my father at the end of a sofa, with the recumbent 
 form of Mrs. Murray in his arms. At first I thought the 
 lady had fainted, and he was supporting her lifeless body. 
 My first impulse was to scream out for assistance ; but 
 when I saw him stoop down and kiss her several times, 
 and heard her murmur some soft, loving words, in which 
 "dear one " was the burden, I at once felt myself growing 
 blind. Whether it was that sort of affection which makes 
 all rabid, venomous things blind, or whether it was the 
 frenzy of anger, I know not, but all things seemed to reel 
 and grow dark before me. I felt if I did not give vent to 
 my feelings I should die instantly. I walked right up to 
 them, and then w^ith an uncontrollable burst of passion, 
 and I fear in a very coarse, loud voice, exclaimed, 
 
 " Shame ! shame on you ! Or are you lost to all shame?" 
 They sprang to their feet, and for one moment stood 
 quite still, looking like tw T o guilty things. 
 
 In a short time they recovered. Mrs. Murray was the 
 first to speak. She laughed carelessly. My father seemed 
 to be infuriated. His eyes emitted flames, and I verily 
 believe, had he obeyed that first impulse, he would have 
 torn me to pieces. 
 
 "Why, child," said Mrs. Murray, " what is the matter? " 
 
 " I am shocked, madam, to find you and my father in 
 such a situation. Shame ! shame on you both ! " 
 
 "Begone ! you insolent, despicable little w T retch ! " 
 
 " Silence! " said the siren, in the most imperative voice. 
 He sat down as a slave, or a little child would have done. 
 
 "Why, you little fool! " said the lady, " w T hat was it? 
 You saw my head lying on your father's knee. Where is 
 the harm ? How often have you lain in your cousin Con- 
 rad's arms ? You little witch ! you have turned his head 
 completely. Your father is my cousin, and as such I love 
 
380 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 him. Do you not love your cousin Conrad ? Say, does 
 he not sometimes give those little pouting lips a cousinly 
 kiss?" 
 
 I felt my cheeks glow. I also saw that they w r atched 
 me closely. 
 
 " My father told my mother that he was called to the 
 country," said I. 
 
 He would then have spoken, and the angry spot was 
 still on his cheek, and the fiery look in his eye, but when 
 she had said, u your father is my cousin," she had taken 
 her seat by his side again, and now when he would have 
 uttered an angry rejoinder, she put her hand on his arm 
 and spoke for him. u So he is going, still. Do you not 
 see the riding paraphernalia?" pointing to the spurs. 
 M He did but call to see me a moment. I have been indis- 
 posed for several days." 
 
 "I heard," said I, trembling, stammering, and blush- 
 ing, u that cousin Conrad was very ill, and — and — I — 
 I" 
 
 u Ah, yes! I understand, and your little loving heart 
 yearns to pour out its sympathy into his no less loving 
 ears." 
 
 She rang the bell. When Tivvy entered, rubbing her 
 eyes, she received a furious glance. " Tell Master Conrad 
 to go down to the parlor ; I wish to see him there." 
 
 She returned shortly, and whispered to her mistress ; 
 after which, Mrs. Murray got up, and taking me by the 
 hand, turned to my father and said, " I wish to see you 
 here, one moment, before }^ou ride. Wait for me." 
 
 We descended to the parlor, where I found my cousin, 
 at first looking very miserable. He sprang to meet me, 
 saying, "This is indeed a joyful surprise." I hardly 
 think he saw his mother, else he felt more temerity in 
 that presence than anybody else ever did. He clasped 
 me to his breast, and kissed me perhaps fifty times ; I 
 don't know precisely, for he left me no breath to count. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 381 
 
 Then disengaging myself, I stepped suddenly aside, and 
 lie came in contact with Mrs. Murray. He looked sul- 
 lenly at her, without speaking, bowing coldly. 
 
 " My dear Conrad," said she, "Doctor Grlencoe and his 
 daughter were sitting with me ; " and she turned her 
 expressive eyes on me, which said as plainly as her tongue 
 could have spoken, " Do not contradict me." u He is now 
 called suddenly away to the country ; I wish you to see 
 Marianna home. I do not mean to be inhospitable, but, 
 dear children, it is late." 
 
 I gave her my hand, Conrad looked sad and dissatisfied. 
 Then, as we left the room, he caught her hand hurriedly, 
 and pressed it to his lips. 
 
 " Do not leave poor little Anna to go alone through 
 those long, dark passages. If the servant is not there, go 
 with her up to her mother's room. I'm sure cousin Myra 
 w r ants to see you by this time." 
 
 " Well ! if this does not surpass any thing ! That is 
 surely the most remarkable woman." 
 
 Molly, who was just behind, touched my arm, and I 
 stopped short. 
 
 "What? what is it?" eagerly asked my cousin." 
 
 " Oh nothing, only I think your mother must be an 
 enchantress. She certainly is the most fascinating human 
 being I ever saw." 
 
 u Or maybe ever will see," said he, with a deep sigh ; 
 " my mother is indeed what you say, cousin Anna. It 
 were better, if she were not quite so charming some- 
 times." 
 
 We were now before my mother's door; but ere Molly 
 opened it, she drew us aside, and said, " Now, children, 
 don't go to talking about nothing in thar, that'll excite 
 your mother. Don't mention Dr. Glencoe's name at all, 
 if you want that poor thing to have any satisfaction with 
 her cousin Charles ; what she bin want to see so much. 
 Mind what I say now ! " Then she opened the door, and 
 
382 
 
 T H E N 1 G H T W A T C H . 
 
 we passed in. Conrad kissed my mother tenderly, and 
 ere they spoke a word, they both had a hearty cry. He 
 forbore to speak at all of his absence ; and when she 
 pressed him to tell the cause, he shook his head and said, 
 " There is no use to advert to it. Dear cousin Myra, let 
 us enjoy the present, without turning to the past or look- 
 ing to the future." 
 
 " My son, it is of the future that I wish to speak, and 
 alas ! I fear it must be hurriedly and briefly. To-mor- 
 row a lady arrives here, who may be perfection for aught 
 I know, but she belongs to a race, and bears a name 
 ♦ which has made my life a blight. I have a presentiment 
 that she is introduced into my family to play the spy on 
 it. This is the reason why I was so importunate with my 
 messages. I have dispatched a great many since I saw 
 you." 
 
 <£ Why, madam, what do you say ? I have not received 
 one. The slightest intimation would have brought me to 
 your bedside. Did I ever fail to obey your summons in 
 my life? " Just then Molly cleared her throat in a very 
 significant way, but Conrad cried eagerly, " Go on ma- 
 dam." 
 
 " I do not think I have been deceived. These were 
 surely, unmistakable symptoms. Do you not love my 
 dear child, Charles ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, more than life ! " said he, with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Then take her, my son. There are no witnesses, 
 save that good, honest creature who sits there dozing; 
 but she is, and ever will be, as true and efficient a friend 
 as you will ever find in this world. But G-od, who sees 
 you, and hears me, will as surely bring you to judgment, 
 if you are not true to each other." 
 
 She had drawn me to him, and now I rested trust- 
 ingly on his bosom, listening to the impassioned beating 
 of his young heart. 
 
 My mother continued : " You are very young, too 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 383 
 
 young yet ; but remember, when the time comes, and 
 you are old enough, she is yours, I having given her to 
 you for your wife. And now, my children, take your 
 last embrace for the night. Kiss me, my son. I can 
 die in peace with such faith as I feel in you both." 
 
 My father came while we were at breakfast. He in- 
 quired carelessly about my mother, but looked keenly 
 into my face. He seemed to be satisfied by the scrutiny 
 and the answer, for he said no more, but sat sipping 
 his chocolate in a moody, abstracted manner. When I 
 had finished my coffee, I begged him to excuse me ; I 
 had my mother's breakfast to prepare. She loved to 
 have that little slice of cold ham, and the one piece of 
 toast brought to her by me. This had been my busi- 
 ness, and the greatest pride of my life, ever since I was 
 large enough to raise the waiter. 
 
 I was now standing at the window^, a carriage stopped 
 at the door, and a stylish lady and gentleman got out. 
 Presently a servant came up. " Doctor Glencoe say, he 
 will like to see little Miss Anna in the parlor right now." 
 
 I felt a degree of trepidation, and almost alarm, 
 hitherto unknown to me, under any circumstances. I 
 remembered that nurse carried me to my room, arranged 
 my hair, smoothed my ringlets, which were very dark, 
 and quite long. It was the month of December ; and I 
 also recollect that I wore a crimson cashmere dress, and 
 a piece of very fine Valleneiennes lace at the throat. This 
 made up the details of my toilet. When I reached 
 the door, my father met me, and led me up to the stylish 
 lady. I saw an expression of surprise, and the gentle- 
 man and lady exchanged looks. 
 
 " My daughter — your cousin Amanda — your cousin John 
 G-lencoe." The former kissed me courteously. The latter, 
 a very smart, fashionable, rather dandified, medium-sized 
 man, with fine, dark whiskers, hair some lighter, and 
 eyes still a little more so, came forward, took my hand, 
 
384 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 kissed my cheek, led me to a seat, and placed himself 
 by me ; then, in an easy, well-bred w T ay, commenced talk- 
 ing on indifferent subjects ; but I remarked that he never 
 took his eyes from my face. 
 
 The lady had thrown off her bonnet and mantle, and 
 was sitting near the cheerful fire, seeming to feel as much 
 at ease, and as entirely at home as if she had been there 
 a year. Great wealth always lends this sort of clever 
 self-possession if not self-sufficiency to its possessors. But 
 these two persons did seem to be well bred. They mani- 
 fested not the least arrogance or assumption of dignity. 
 Why should they? They were used to opulence, and had 
 enjoyed the homage paid to it all their lives. Besides, 
 they were on most excellent terms with themselves. 
 
 Miss Glencoe was not particularly pretty, but was 
 remarkably pleasing. She had gray eyes and dark lashes, 
 fine complexion, with a rich tint on her cheeks, wmile the 
 glow T of good health mantled her face and neck and per- 
 vaded every movement. She had fine teeth, and her 
 mouth would have been decidedly pretty, nay beautiful, 
 but for a nervous sort of twitching of the upper lip. The 
 brother also possessed this peculiarity (even in a greater 
 degree), which made you feel doubtful, while looking at 
 him, whether the face was about to relax into a graceful 
 smile, or to contract into a bitter sneer. They resembled 
 each other greatly in all things. 
 
 My cousin Amanda wore a black broadcloth riding-dress 
 richly braided. She was in mourning, and her jewels, with 
 all the other appointments of her toilet, were in keeping. 
 Her form was faultless, and like her brother's, medium size. 
 
 After she had conversed with my father for some time, 
 with as much self-complacency as affability, she turned to 
 me, and said, " My dear, when your cousin John has 
 caressed those incomparable ringlets long enough, I beg 
 you will do me the favor to go with a message to your 
 mamma? " 
 
 n 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 385 
 
 I rose at once, very glad of a pretext. The gentleman 
 had become quite too demonstrative of his admiration. 
 " I am ready, cousin," said I, approaching her. 
 
 " Then give my love to my aunt, and say to her that I 
 would be glad to come up and greet her if she will receive 
 me." 
 
 Soon after, I conducted her to my mother. In a mar- 
 velous short time, she had managed to soothe my dear, 
 easy, gentle mamma into a feeling of respect, and those 
 deep-rooted prejudices were being removed. She had also 
 cajoled my nurse into a state of endurance. As to myself, 
 1 was ready to fall dead in love with her at once. What 
 a gift is gentle address and urbane manners ! Yet I did 
 not feel at all attracted toward my cousin John, although 
 they were alike. I recoiled from all familiarity, and sick- 
 ened at his protestations of admiration. 
 
 After a while, I offered to conduct my cousin to her 
 room, thinking she might wish to dress for dinner. 
 
 " Wo/' said she ; " if my aunt will suffer me, I will just 
 peep into her mirror." Thus inducing the belief that her 
 personal appearance was a matter of perfect indifference 
 to her. 
 
 She asked to have her dressing-case brought, and then 
 I found that she gave the most scrupulous attention to 
 these duties. Every plait of hair, her eyebrows, her com- 
 plexion — in short, that whole head had undergone a 
 thorough renovation in a few moments. When she turned 
 again toward us, I thought her almost beautiful, so much 
 had she been improved by the mysteries of that toilet 
 case. 
 
 On reaching the dining-room, we found Mrs. Murray 
 and my cousin Conrad there. They had both been invited 
 by my father to meet his relatives. After the presenta- 
 tions were over, he offered to hand his niece to the head 
 of the table, but she declined, and begged Mrs. Murray to 
 33 
 
386 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 take the seat. This simple act of courtesy, so gracefully 
 done, seemed at once to break down that conventional 
 frigidity which always succeeds an introduction at a din- 
 ner party. Conrad Murray, I thought, appeared to watch 
 her with a curious but pleased attention. Her great 
 vivacity, the constant play of feature, her bright smile 
 (only marred by that curling upper lip), her ready wit, 
 with that easy flow of conversation, seemed to enchant 
 every one. 
 
 Dinner passed off pleasantly. Conrad was about to 
 offer me his arm, as we adjourned to the parlor, when 
 Mrs. Murray, seeing this, called me hurriedly to the 
 window, pretending to point out something. She whis- 
 pered to me: "My love, take your cousin John's arm. 
 I am anxious that Conrad shall come out of the mopes. 
 So let him hand Miss Glencoe to the parlor. You see this 
 is also due her." 
 
 I at once assented. Indeed I was convinced of the pro- 
 priety of what she said ; therefore I turned and laid my 
 hand on Mr. Glencoe's arm, which seemed to please every 
 one present save the one I most desired to please on 
 earth. When I did this — for me, very familiar thing — 
 he looked surprised, and his face flushed ; then stepping 
 up to cousin Amanda, he conducted her to the drawing- 
 room. There she enchained him to her side by the spell 
 of her charming conversation. Presently he handed her 
 to the piano, and then hung over her while she played ; 
 turned the music; asked for song after song; and was 
 so taken up that he seemed to ignore all else in the 
 room. I could stand this no longer, and being bored 
 to death, now, by my cousin John's compliments, I broke 
 away. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, my mother wants me." I ran up 
 stairs, threw myself down by her side, and burst into 
 tears. I wept several minutes before I could tell her. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 387 
 
 Then I sobbed out, " mamma! your fears were, indeed, 
 prophetic. She has taken him from me already! She 
 has charmed him on first sight ! He has not spoken to 
 me since she came ! " 
 
 Just then there was a light tap at the door. Molly 
 opened it. " God bless your sweet soul and face ! I'm 
 t-h-a-t glad to see you I don't know what to do with 
 myself! Look a-there ! the poor thing's a-dying of 
 jealously a'ready of the strange woman and her little 
 husband." 
 
 Yery soon all was explained satisfactorily, and we were 
 once more a very happy trio. Alas ! there is always a 
 drawback ! Mrs. Murray came tripping into the room 
 without rapping, and Conrad disappeared. 
 
 I was never again left alone w T ith my cousin Conrad, 
 but constantly with my cousin John. We had not now 
 met alone for more than a month. I could not under- 
 stand wherefore; and I was far from feeling reconciled. 
 Yet he appeared cheerful when we met in company, and 
 had never sought an interview that I knew of, offered 
 explanation or apology. 
 
 Whenever he came to see my mother, which he did 
 sometimes by her request, sometimes voluntarity, either 
 my father, cousin John, or cousin Amanda was sure to be 
 present. I w r as in despair. I hated them all by turns. 
 I could not forgive him, that he was so quiescent under 
 this surveillance. I had thought that he would pull the 
 house down over their heads, rather than submit to this 
 system of espionage. 
 
 At last, during one of those sittings, he managed to slip 
 a note into my hand. He did this most adroitly for one 
 so unpracticed in artifice. Still I think Miss Glencoe 
 saw it, although her head was turned from us. I ran 
 to my room, locked the door, and falling on my knees, 
 read the following note, which had been scratched off in 
 haste : 
 
388 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " My dear little Wife — If I do not get to see you 
 soon, I will either shoot myself or run away. It seems 
 that the members of both families have combined to keep 
 us apart. I can not exist under this state of things. I 
 have waited thus long to see what it would come to ; now 
 I must see you, if at the point of the sword, or the mouth 
 of the pistol. Meet me in the conservatory to-night at 
 twelve o'clock. Bring Molly with you if you choose. 
 Perhaps it would be better, in case of a. surprise ; and 
 then you know we are such children (as our dear mother 
 said) we may need a guardian. Come when they have 
 all retired. I'm convinced that you wish to see me, my 
 love, and if you fail me, I shall not blame you. But come. 
 God bless my little bride. 
 
 C. C. Murray." 
 
 I put this note into my writing-case, locked it, and hid 
 the key. At the appointed hour, nurse and I stole down 
 quietly to the basement, thence to the garden. In a few 
 moments more, I was resting confidingly and happily on 
 the bosom of the only man I have ever loved. He 
 explained all seeming mysteries. We renewed our vows 
 of love and constancy, and swore that we were more in 
 love with each other than ever, which was swearing to a 
 great deal. 
 
 Then my cousin began to plead with me to elope with 
 him, and be married, children as we were; saying so inno- 
 cently, " Dear cousin Anna, we will grow old just as fast, 
 and maybe faster if we are married. Then they can not sep- 
 arate us." Nurse cleared her throat disapprovingly. He 
 continued, " I have at last divined their plans, which had 
 all been concocted by your father and my mother before 
 Miss Glencoe and her brother came. The scheme is to 
 have me married to your cousin Amanda, and you to your 
 cousin John, so that the two immense fortunes shall be 
 kept in the family." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 389 
 
 He had overheard a conversation the evening before, in 
 which he learned this, and also why we were never per- 
 mitted to meet. He said he knew matters would grow 
 w T orse day by day, and presently we would be called on, 
 at least I would, to ratify this engagement with John 
 Glencoe. And then this boy fell on his knees, and 
 entreated me so earnestly to place myself under his protec- 
 tion, to leave home with him at once for this purpose, that 
 aided as he was by the pleadings of my own heart, I 
 think he would have carried his point with me, had it not 
 been for my nurse, who had sat so still that w T e had for- 
 gotten her presence. 
 
 "Oh no, bless God! children, I can't not consent to 
 that. I never gwine to give in to that, no how. I jest 
 brought Miss Pet here to talk little while with you, 'cause 
 them clever ones in the house watch over you so close ; 
 but I got to carry her back. Bless God ! I got to do that 
 thing. Thinks honey, of your mother. Could either of 
 you do sich a thing without asking her advice and con- 
 sent? No, I know you couldn't to save the lifetime of 
 you. And my little lady there, not yet near fourteen 
 years old, and Mr. Conr&d not much more." 
 
 " Oh, forgive us, nurse ! " exclaimed I, " we were crazy ; 
 we would not be guilty of such madness, and thus cause 
 you and my darling mother such sorrow." 
 
 " Cousin Anna, I do not indorse that statement. / am 
 neither crazy nor mad ; nor did I deem you so. I appeal to 
 you, good nurse, is a man mad or crazy because he tries 
 to circumvent his enemies, and wishes to protect his fam- 
 ily from oppression by resorting to the best means open to 
 him, to secure his and their happiness? Would you call a 
 man mad or crazy for doing this? Speak, good nurse." 
 
 " No, honey, certainly not ; no man would be to blame 
 for doing sich things, but I can't say so much for boy. I 
 can't not say that it is right all the same way for young 
 boy." 
 
390 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 "What do you mean, old woman?" said he, starting 
 up ; " do you mean " 
 
 " Nothing more nor less than what I says, child." And 
 the good-natured creature laughed a little, low titter. 
 Then we consulted together, and it was settled that we 
 would talk it over with my mother, and return at the 
 same hour the next night. 
 
 Just at that juncture, when we were feeling so secure, 
 we heard a suppressed sneeze. We all sprang to our feet, 
 and in great consternation looked to the right and left, 
 but of course we could see nothing, as it was quite dark. 
 Molly thought it best that my cousin should not venture 
 into the house, and promised to arrange another meeting 
 with my mother. So we separated. 
 
 When I reached my room, I found a large traveling 
 trunk, dressing case, writing desk, etc. And when I 
 looked into my escrutoire for the note, it could not be found. 
 
 I had a terrible foreboding of evil, I could not think, 
 I could not w^eep, I could not even undress myself. I 
 should have sat there gazing at that trunk all night, if 
 my good nurse had not come in to put me to bed. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH, 
 
 391 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVII. 
 
 THE JOURNAL. AN INTRIGUANTE. 
 
 " Farewell to the few I have left with regret ; 
 May they sometimes recall what I can not forget." 
 
 " At last I know thee, and my soul from all thy acts set free, 
 Abjures the cold consummate art 'shrined as a soul in thee, 
 Priestess of falsehood, deeply learned in all heart treachery ! 
 
 At ten o'clock the next morning, I had not left my 
 room ; I had taken no breakfast ; had not slept ; I felt 
 stunned. My father opened the door and came up to me 
 even before I saw him. " Marianna, have you seen your 
 mother, to-day? " 
 
 u I have not, sir ; I have not yet left my room : " and I 
 looked proudly up into his face. 
 
 I expected he had come to upbraid me ; and being 
 guiltless of all wrong, I felt defiant, and was prepared to 
 hurl back every reproach and accusation. But not so ; 
 and great was my surprise when, looking at him, I only 
 saw an expression of subdued misery. This, to me, was 
 inconceivably touching. My proud, rebellious feelings 
 were in an instant changed to those of interest, and the 
 most respectful sympathy. I eagerly asked, " Dear sir, 
 what is the matter? Why did you ask me that 
 question, and why do you look so sorrowful ? I have 
 not heard that my mother is worse. She is not ill — is 
 she, sir ? " 
 
 " ~No ! It is not of her that I would now speak. Listen 
 to me." 
 
 " What is it, then, sir ? " cried I. 
 
392 
 
 THE NIG H T W ATCH 
 
 " It will avail you nothing to tell you. Words can not 
 help you. Poor deluded child ! I pity you, from my 
 inmost soul. Oh ! I am forced to pity you. False ! false 
 hearted wretch ! And so young, so promising, and so 
 handsome ! " 
 
 I threw myself on my knees ; I caught his hand, 
 bowed my head on it, and implored him to explain him- 
 self, before I should lose my reason. O my God ! I felt 
 my brain reel ! 
 
 He shook his head mournfully, and laying his hand on 
 mine, said in a voice full of pity, "Alas ! I can not ! Get 
 up. Your mother is waiting to see you." 
 
 [Col. Murray had read poor Myra's Journal up to this 
 point with intense emotion ; sometimes so overcome, that 
 he was forced to stop and wipe his e3^es. But when he 
 came to this portion of it, he sprang to his feet, exclaim- 
 ing, " The perfidious monster ! Oh ! what is it all ? For 
 what purpose is this intricate and diabolical woof of 
 treachery woven ? " He resumed his seat and read.] 
 
 When I went to my mother's room I found her in tears, 
 and before she saw me I heard her exclaim passionately, 
 H I do not believe it ! I care not what is said of her, and 
 I care not who says it. I believe her to be as pure as the 
 4 angels in heaven.' I know, and God knows, and I think 
 you all know, that my precious lamb is free from spot or 
 blemish"— — 
 
 My father went up to her hurriedly, and with a stern 
 look said, " Silence, madam, else you shall not be indulged 
 with this last interview." She sunk back on her pillow, 
 and continued to sob. 
 
 Cousin Amanda was hanging tenderly and pityingly 
 over her. And as I sat watching her, I believed her to be 
 then a ministering spirit sent to sustain my mother in 
 this her extremity. Poor dear mamma seemed to think 
 so too, for she turned to her — u Oh, my friend, compas- 
 sionate me, and intercede with that stern, hard man, your 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 393 
 
 uncle, to leave me my child, just the little while that 1 
 shall be here in this world of woe ! " 
 
 She w T hispered for some time to my poor half dead 
 mother, and when she raised her head, her face was 
 streaming with tears. I felt at that moment like falling 
 down and worshiping her. In after years I learned that 
 she possessed some strange power, by which she could 
 induce the lachrymose humor at any moment, without 
 the least feeling, and when her heart was untouched. 
 She came up to my father, who was standing apart, hold- 
 ing me by the hand, and looking very significantly into his 
 face, said, u Uncle, let the child embrace her mother." 
 
 I threw myself into the arms of my darling mamma. 
 I vowed most solemnly that I had done no wrong ; I 
 assured her that I never dreamed of its being amiss to 
 meet my cousin anywhere and at any time, and that my 
 nurse was only taken for protection by the way to the 
 rendezvous. I was going on to explain further, when she 
 said, u Hush ! my love ; I know, I understand all. I also 
 know that you were goaded on to commit this little indis- 
 cretion ; but were one to come from the dead, and tell me 
 that my pet lamb had erred, I would not believe it. Oh 
 no ! But they have made this a pretext to tear you from 
 me. You are to be sent away." 
 
 My father approached, and shaking my mother rudely, 
 said, "Woman, cease this silly tirade ; I am tired of it." 
 She did not seem to heed him, but continued her lamen- 
 tations. " Oh ! when they send her away, tear my poor 
 child aw r ay, then will life become a weary waste indeed. 
 This is the last flower left blooming on my solitary path- 
 way ! The only sunbeam which ever reaches my frozen 
 heart. Alas ! " 
 
 I heard no more. My pitiless father dragged me back 
 to my room, where I found my maid holding my travel- 
 ing bonnet and mantle. 
 
394 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Tempy, do your business quickly," said he, and he 
 took his seat to watch the process. That mournful 
 expression had passed from his face, and in its stead was 
 a hard, stern, resolute look. I became sick, unable to 
 think or act ; was now perfectly passive in their hands. 
 
 When I w r as dressed in my traveling attire, my father 
 led me to the parlor to take leave of my family. I found 
 there my cousin John and Mrs. Murray. I looked around 
 for my dear Conrad. Then those mysterious words of 
 my father came to my mind. I think I should have 
 fainted, had not Mrs. Murray come to me, and entwining 
 her arms around my waist, embraced me, and at the same 
 time whispered, " My dear, your poor cousin is as 
 w 7 retched as yourself, yet he would be in the street to 
 offer his adieus (these doors have again been closed against 
 him), but he is too ill to rise from his bed." 
 
 Strange and inexplicable thing is the human heart. I 
 loved my cousin more than my own soul, and would have 
 died with him, in defense of our attachment ; or without 
 him, to prove its truth ; or for him, to save him from 
 death, or sorrow r , w T hich is worse ; yet notwithstanding all 
 this, when I heard he was ill, a thrill of joy ran through 
 my whole frame. Anything but the realization of those 
 dark hints from my father. I would at that moment have 
 preferred to hear of his death, and would have consented 
 to pass a long life in solitude, mourning his loss. But 
 I would have dashed myself to pieces from the first hight 
 with frantic joy, had those insinuations been confirmed. 
 
 My cousin Amanda now came into the room and pre- 
 sented me with a small parcel from my mother. She 
 shed a great many tears over me, bade me feel easy about 
 my mother, said she would watch over her as if she were 
 her own parent, and whispered, " Do not be disheartened, 
 he shall write to you very soon. Your father is aggrieved, 
 and feels himself dishonored by the last night's transac- 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 395 
 
 tion, and seems harsh ; but never mind, have a little 
 patience, it will all blow over, and we will have you back 
 very soon." 
 
 I almost adored my cousin at the time, and should have 
 told her so, had I not been admonished by that upper lip 
 that there was hollowness in the heart. Oh, that wonder- 
 ful upper lip ! It kept me at bay, always. 
 
 Murray strikes his forehead fiercely, and rising, paces 
 the room in great agitation, as he exclaims, u Great God ! 
 I can scarce believe what my eyes trace on this blotted 
 and anguish-marked paper. I was not ill that morning, 
 I slept in peace, dreaming of elysium. And when I awoke 
 at a late hour, I thought the sun shone more gloriously 
 bright and beautiful, and life itself was fraught with more 
 hapjnness for me than ever before. Oh, I felt wild with 
 joy ! I thought only of the meeting which I had had, and 
 the one yet in prospective. I found a pitcher of hot lem- 
 onade on the hearth, which I drank off with avidity. 
 Soon after, I fell into the most delightful state of drowsi- 
 ness. My dreams were gorgeous. I think I must have 
 slept two whole days, and now I understand it all. That 
 punch was drugged. When I did awake, I well remem- 
 ber how my head throbbed. Feeling better after taking 
 a bath, I dressed myself with great care, and walked over 
 to Doctor Glencoe's, intending to see Mrs. Glencoe, and I 
 meant, if I could gain her consent, to consummate a speedy 
 and private marriage. I was met at the door by a ser- 
 vant, who handed me a note. 
 
 " Doctor Glencoe begs to be excused for declining the 
 honor intended his family this morning by Master Mur- 
 ray. The present calamitous situation of the household 
 can only be ascribed to his fool-hardy pursuit of a child 
 who does not know her own mind, and who, before two 
 weeks more, will be as much in love with her cousin John, 
 or somebody else, as she affected to be with her cousin 
 
396 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Conrad. Doctor Glencoe hopes that Master Murray will 
 be equally willing now, with every member of this fam- 
 ily, to dissolve all connection, which is only productive 
 of annoyance and misery. Kespectfully, 
 
 ■ 
 
 I returned to my room, rang the bell violently. James 
 came, and stood at the door twirling his thumbs. 
 
 " Tell me, James, what has been transpiring in this 
 house while I have been lying asleep ? and what is the 
 matter over the way ? " 
 
 " JSTothing 'tall aint bin transpiring here, sir, but every- 
 thing is the matter over thar. Tivvy says poor Mrs. 
 Glencoe is 'bout to die, and little Miss Pet, or Miss Anna 
 as you calls her, is gone away in a carriage with Mr. John 
 Glencoe ; they do so to get married or something or 
 nother." 
 
 I hope God will forgive me ! but, without having the 
 least idea of what I was doing, I knocked that stout negro 
 boy down, crying out, " I suffer no one to slander my wife." 
 
 In an instant I was by his side on my knees, wiping 
 the blood from his nose with my handkerchief. I also 
 washed his face in my own basin ; took him up in my 
 arms and laid him on the sofa ; then gave him a little 
 brandy and water. After a while he recovered, and I 
 then learned with horror the preceding facts ; but I did 
 not then hear, and I do not think the boy knew, that 
 Marianna had been taken to school. 
 
 "Oh!" said Minny, taking his hand, "ye hae been as 
 fierce in your time, as ony Hielander — a sort o' Eob Eoy ; 
 but go on " 
 
 The manuscript is continued, while Minny sits by — 
 
 My cousin John is the last one to bid me adieu. When 
 he imprints that unwelcome kiss on my lips, he cries out, 
 " Why, Doctor, my cousin is burning up with fever ! She 
 is ill ! not able to travel." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 397 
 
 "Oh yes!" sighed I, "I am ill — sick almost unto 
 death (bursting into tears), and no one pities me. I shall 
 die, die alone among strangers, and there will be none 
 near to receive my parting words to my mother — and to 
 tell him that — that" 
 
 I was not allowed to finish the sentence. I felt myself 
 caught up and placed in the carriage, which drove off. I 
 also thought or dreamed that I lay in his arms. I closed 
 my eyes, and yielded myself up to that almost crushing 
 embrace — I knew, nor felt, nor cared for anything more. 
 I presume I slept ; yes, slept in peace, like an infant (as 
 I believed), on that adored bosom. I was very languid, 
 and had been so soothed by the gentle caresses which 
 succeeded to the first raptures, that I felt no desire ever to 
 be aroused from the delicious repose. The carriage still 
 drove on with great velocity : and I still dreamed on in 
 blissful ignorance. 
 
 Presently the spell was broken by the vibration of a 
 strange voice. I started up in amazement, and cried out 
 wildly, " What ! How is this? You here? I thought, 
 Oh ! I thought it was — I thought it was ! Oh, I am dis- 
 tracted ! " 
 
 I attempted to open the door ; failing in this, I screamed 
 to the driver. He drove on just as before. I then 
 attempted to make my escape through the window of 
 the flying vehicle. 
 
 All this time the gentleman sat quite still, perfectly so; 
 all to the twitching of that wonderful upper lip. Now 
 he lays his hand on my arm, and, looking curiously into 
 my face, says, " Marianna, I agree with you ; I do believe 
 that you are distracted, or soon will be. Throwing your- 
 self from that window will not be so pleasant ; but it will 
 be instant death, if you desire that. What is the matter? 
 Why do you act thus ? " 
 
 " Oh ! tell me, then, why you are here ? Where are you 
 
398 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 taking me? For what purpose are you hurrying me off 
 thus?" 
 
 " I am not hurrying you off, child. It is your father's 
 carriage-driver who is driving us both off; but with no 
 evil intent, I think. I am here only to render you 
 assistance, and to comfort you if possible." 
 
 "Where are we going, then?" said I, weeping. 
 
 "Do you not know, my cousin ? Did your father not 
 tell you?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! I do not know^, unless it be to some dreadful 
 dungeon." 
 
 "Strange! most strange! There is something wrong 
 beneath all this mystery ! He surely did tell you why 
 you w r ere leaving home ?" 
 
 " I have told you, cousin John, that he did not." 
 
 " Well, you are on your way to the celebrated boarding- 
 school at , about two hundred miles distant. When 
 
 I saw you look so ill as I bade you adieu, and seemed so 
 heart-broken, and found my cold, inflexible uncle was 
 about to send his only child away under the protection 
 of a servant only, my nature revolted at such inhuman 
 treatment. So without a moment's reflection, I jumped 
 into the carriage, and received your fainting form into 
 my arms. For some time I thought you w T ere dead; but 
 that little black imp, who sits there grinning at us, gave 
 me the sal volatile which revived you. Yet you did not 
 open your eyes, or seem disposed to rise from your 
 recumbent attitude. And I'm sure I would be the last 
 man in the world to remind you to do so." 
 
 My cousin John had never yet spoken one word of his 
 passion to me. It was implied only by his looks of 
 admiration, and his glowing commendations of all I did 
 and said. Neither had he obtruded himself much of late. 
 Still, I could not choose but feel a secret recoil, wmenever 
 he came near me. But I was also one of the most grateful 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 399 
 
 of all God's creatures. Any kindness — the least drop 
 of sympathy — called forth grateful tears. And now, I 
 sat there weeping, with very softened feelings toward Mr. 
 Glencoe. 
 
 " God knows, cousin John, I am very much obliged to 
 you; but are you right sure that this was your only 
 motive? " said I, trembling from head to foot, as I beheld 
 his excited and inflamed countenance. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear little coz." 
 
 " Then why did you hold me in such an energetic 
 embrace? " 
 
 " Now, as if any man could help it, much less one who 
 loves you as I do. It must be a being endowed with 
 superhuman strength, to resist such charms; else apa- 
 thetic." 
 
 I moved off to the corner of the carriage. The little 
 maid on the front seat, giggled merrily. 
 
 " What are you laughing at, Tempy ? " said he. " I 
 tell you it is no laughing matter to be scorned in this 
 way, when I only meant to take care of, and console my 
 sweet little cousin." 
 
 " Seeing him look as I thought, mortified, and as he 
 did not approach, my conscience smote me, and I said, 
 with feeling, " Dear cousin John, forgive me. I am 
 more than half crazy with trouble, and quite a fool." I 
 offered my hand, which he took, and drawing off the 
 glove, kissed it ; then pressing it tenderly to his bosom, 
 said, " Fear not, little one ! I would watch over, and 
 guard the honor of this hand with my life ; an you 
 would let me." 
 
 Nothing more of consequence occurred on the way. 
 The name of my lover was not mentioned between us. I 
 think, perhaps, he had never heard of my attachment to 
 my cousin. I presume the devisers of that cruel plot had 
 studiously kept it a secret from him. After remaining a 
 day at the school, and during that time saying everything 
 
400 
 
 T H E NIG H T W ATCH. 
 
 to comfort and cheer me, which oftentimes produced just 
 the opposite effect, he took an affectionate leave. 
 
 I then entered on the duties of the scholastic course, 
 with a leaden heart. Yet I did imbibe instruction, though 
 pretty much as a sponge. I was never behind my classes, 
 oftentimes foremost. I received many letters from home. 
 My cousin Amanda wrote for the whole family. She 
 gave me the news of the domestic, as well as the social 
 circle. 
 
 Once when she had gotten through the household 
 details, after telling me that on this occasion she was my 
 mother's deputy in writing, and that she was better, but 
 still feeble, and all that: she went on to say, 'Mrs. Mur- 
 ray sends her love to you. Your cousin Conrad also sends 
 his respects. Soon after you left, he was seized with the 
 most unaccountable love of books: he lived in the library, 
 and only saw his mother and his preceptor. But you know, 
 dear child, that such moods do not last long in youth. 
 He is now quite gay; comes over every evening to hear 
 me sing some of your favorite songs, which do not make 
 him so sad as one would think. He oftentimes thinks of 
 your great simplicity, and almost infantile playfulness of 
 disposition. In short, dear little Coz, he seems to feel 
 quite an interest and an affection for you, even as an elder 
 brother or a father. It is really amusing to hear him 
 speak of his early associations with the little Marianna ; 
 one would think it had been twenty years ago. My 
 brother chides him sometimes, for still seeming to view 
 you as a child, when he thinks you a most desirable and 
 charming young woman. God bless you. 
 
 Amanda G . 
 
 u Merciful God," exclaimed Murray, taking Minny's 
 hand. " O my dear little woman ! where can I expect 
 to find truth and honesty after this ? I took that woman 
 to be the incarnation of both. I almost fear to proceed," 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 401 
 
 " Gae on, gae on, and let us get to the eend o't," said 
 Minny. 
 
 The manuscript proceeds : " Six months passed, and still 
 she wrote in the same strain. Then Cousin John wrote; 
 but his was a manly, affectionate effusion. He spoke of 
 my cousin Conrad in terms of cordial praise ; regretted 
 to tell me, that he thought him delicate. In fact, that 
 both he and his mother w T ere in poor health, and that Dr. 
 Glencoe had ordered a sea-voyage. He began now to 
 declare his feelings, but with great delicacy. 
 
 I had never received a word from under the hand of 
 my cousin Conrad. Sometimes a message through Miss 
 Glencoe, w T hich I always felt to be an insult. In truth, 
 every word I had heard was calculated to wound me. 
 
 "Mrs. Brown," said Murray, "I wrote every week, but 
 never received but one reply ; which w r as brief and cut- 
 ting. It ran thus : 
 
 Dear Cousin — Your letters, truly, are very fine ; but I 
 have no time, therefore no relish, for such things. 
 
 Yours, respectfully, Anna Glencoe. 
 
 Ah ! no one can comprehend my sufferings ! " 
 
 " Eead on," said Minny, "else the grey dawn will find 
 us here." He obeys. 
 
 A year had passed away, and the vacation occurring, I 
 was permitted to return home. Cousin John came for 
 me. Nothing of consequence transpired by the way. We 
 traveled by railroad and steamboat — therefore were soon 
 at home. Once more I was folded in the arms of my dear 
 mother. We were never left one moment alone. I was*; 
 not permitted to speak a word to my nurse. No one ever 
 mentioned Conrad's name. I waited two whole days for 
 some one to speak of him. I hoped that I might per- 
 chance meet him. 
 34 
 
402 
 
 T H E N 1 (i H T W A T C II 
 
 On the third day, I felt I could endure it no longer, 
 and creeping up softly to my mother, I leaned down and 
 whispered to her, " Mamma, why does not my cousin 
 Conrad come to see me?" 
 
 Oh, what a wild, frightened look she cast round the 
 room. u Hush ! Hush, child ! They will tear you from 
 me, again. Do not, if you love your mother and pity her 
 condition, pronounce that name in this house ever, any 
 more. O God ! They have made it one of terror to me." 
 
 "When did you see him?" said I. 
 
 " Oh ! hush ! never, never, since you left. He does not 
 care for us now." 
 
 My father frowned, and said angrily, " Marianna, did 
 you come home only to excite and distress your mother? 
 Are you not satisfied with your work of destruction 
 before you left? "We could scarcely keep life in her for 
 many weeks, and now you are trying to do your work 
 over again." I began to weep. My mother looked like a 
 timid, brow-beaten child, who was momentarily expecting 
 punishment. 
 
 Miss Glencoe took me by the hand, and leading me into 
 the parlor, bestowed many tender caresses on me, uttered 
 many protestations, and shed many tears ; then, in a low, 
 soft voice, said, " My dear, you must not pronounce Conrad 
 Murray's name in the presence of your father. His con- 
 duct has been most strange, and his motives past finding 
 out. He has not been to see your poor mother during 
 your whole absence. He and my uncle do not speak, and 
 rumor says he is addressing a very wealthy lady." 
 
 I do not know wherefore, but the impulse came on 
 me to look her keenly in the eyes. Well ! this smart 
 and brave lady, in all other things, quailed beneath my 
 earnest gaze. I turned away, and shook my head mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 She soon rallied and continued : " As soon as he learned 
 that you were expected home, he immediately left." 
 
T HE N I G H T W A TCH. 
 
 403 
 
 u And is he not here now ? " asked I. 
 
 " ISTo ; he went away the very day my brother started 
 for you. This is most unaccountable. I feel indignant 
 at him, and most sincerely compassionate you, and feel 
 vexed at the same time. O that I could infuse some of 
 the Glencoe pride'into you! Poor little lamb! as your 
 mother calls you, you inherit all her softness and beauty, 
 with her weakness. You must tear this idol from your 
 heart, my love. Drag it forth ; believe me, it is unworthy 
 of such a place. Such genuine, disinterested devotion, 
 is altogether misplaced. Just as well lavish it on the 
 dumb idols of the heathen, for all the return you w T ill 
 ever get." 
 
 " I do not think I can go on with these dreadful details. 
 This unsuspected revelation of perfidy makes me sick at 
 heart," said Murray. " I went to that boarding school 
 three times during that year, and each time I was turned 
 away as if by the express order of Marianna. 
 
 " The day she left with Mr. John Glencoe, I arrived, one 
 hour after they had departed, and was told by the super- 
 intendent, in fact, I saw the letter from her father, which 
 was : " Dear Sir, — I wish you to entrust my daughter to 
 the care of Mr. Glencoe. This, you will see, is no infrac- 
 tion of the rules of propriety, as she will be married to 
 that gentleman at the end of next year." I returned from 
 that place a changed man. All things require to be cared 
 for ; every living thing needs encouragement, and so does 
 the heart of man, let him be ever so self-sustaining. " 
 
 I was quite ready (continued the Journal), at the end 
 of the month, to return to my prison house. I felt I had 
 nothing more to do in the world. And if I could not die, 
 I wished to be buried alive. The school was a Eoman 
 Catholic institution. I wished now to become a nun, and 
 
404 THE NIGHT W A T H . 
 
 I should have taken the vows at once, but the superior 
 of the neighboring convent discouraged it. 
 
 After remaining a whole month without hearing from 
 home, I at last received a short letter from cousin 
 Amanda : 
 
 " Dear little coz — I have only time to say to you 
 that your mother is no worse. I may say, rather better. 
 Your father is also well. They send their regards to you. 
 You must excuse me now, I am called to the drawing- 
 room to see him 1 mean, a gentleman has called to 
 
 spend the evening with me. Well, your cousin Conrad 
 returned soon after you left us. He had passed the inter- 
 val in New Orleans, and came back with renovated health 
 and spirits. He said he ivould have returned sooner, but he 
 stopped by the way until you should have left. Not that he 
 dislikes you, my love, but he thinks, and very justly, too, 
 that it w T ould be embarrassing to both, especially to you. 
 Mrs. Murray is ill ; she has had an attack of paralysis, and 
 is so changed that you would not know her. They speak 
 of setting out soon on their tour. God bless you. 
 
 " Amanda." 
 
 Then she wrote again, and mentioned that my cousin's 
 health was feeble, and that he and his mother were pre- 
 paring to leave home for an indefinite time, perhaps for- 
 ever ; that they had sold out their possessions in the city 
 of , and that he would be married ere long, etc. 
 
 I determined to hazard one letter, let him think of it 
 as he pleased ; let him blame or even hate, so that he 
 did not despise me, I cared not. After many fruitless 
 attempts, much waste of paper and time, much sighing 
 and weeping, I succeeded at last in producing the follow- 
 ing incoherent lines : 
 
 " Dear Cousin — I care not now what you think, much 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 405 
 
 less do I value the opinion of the world. You may, if 
 you please, smile disdainfully at this unmaidenly conduct. 
 I know that society would frown on it, and I feel myself that 
 it is indelicate, after so many slights, and such total neg- 
 lect of me. The world may point scornfully at the woman 
 who would under any circumstances commence a corres- 
 pondence with an estranged lover. But what care I for 
 all this now ? I will tell you, while I have the power to 
 do so, ere I shall be driven to some act of desperation. 
 . . . . I love you still. Yes, even now, and with the 
 same ardor as when my mother gave me to you, and when 
 you swore so solemnly to love and cherish me to the end 
 of life. But you have changed. She tells me, my clever 
 cousin Amanda tells me that you are to be married soon. 
 . - . . . Well, you could not help it, I suppose. Some 
 persons are constitutionally fickle. I am not ; Oh no ! just 
 the reverse. Therefore, I am true to you, and shall 
 remain so through time, and maybe through eternity. 
 She says the lady is wealthy ; and I infer from what she 
 writes, that this is the allurement. Well, poor, dear 
 cousin ! I deplore the hard destiny which drives you to 
 the necessity of sacrificing your affections to your for- 
 tunes. You are not married yet, and I can bat love you 
 with that same wild, soul- absorbing enthusiasm. When 
 another has taken that place which should have been 
 mine, and it gets to be a sin, then I will not speak of it. 
 Still, I shall remain true to you. Your image is enshrined 
 forevermore in my heart. I do not blush to tell you 
 
 this. I am proud to avow the truth I will 
 
 not ask you to write ; I presume yon would not like to do 
 so, on ' my account more especially. 1 I thank you for your 
 considerate mindfulness of my feelings heretofore. O 
 God! how can I say farewell ? And now a long and final 
 adieu. Anna." 
 
 " Oh, had I but received this letter ! " said Murray, u my 
 
406 
 
 T H E N I G H T W ATC H 
 
 happiness had not been wrecked, as now. I wrote to that 
 dear child so often, and grieved over her apparent cold- 
 ness, so deeply lamented her estrangement! I only 
 received those two lines. But what next?" 
 
 I had not long to wait for a response to my letter. It 
 ran thus, and it was in his handwriting. My heart could 
 attest to it : 
 
 "Dear Mamanna : I am astonished and mortified. Why 
 do you act thus ? Why write thus ? Why indulge this 
 strain of pathos ? Surely, your own good sense ought to 
 teach you that such things between us now, are entirely 
 out of place and highly improper. Rumor says, that you 
 are to be married to your cousin John. I believe her 
 ladyship this time, though generally her thousand tongues 
 are busy in propagating falsehood. But this one time I 
 think she speaks truly. At least, I hope so ; else the close 
 intimacy, the affectionate caressing on the highway — in 
 carriages, with unlowered blinds — would be considered 
 rather an unseemly exhibition. 
 
 " I presume you have not forgotten the time when you 
 were so benevolent as to exalt me to the third heavens 
 over night, and the next day throw yourself into the arms 
 of another lover-cousin — wrapping his soul, no doubt, in 
 elysium. For you can do such things, little coz. Your 
 preternatural beauty, and that exquisitely betwitching 
 simplicity, that child-like sportiveness of manner, are 
 enough to turn a stronger head than mine — or his, I pre- 
 sume, when near you. When we are both married, and 
 well married, as rej^ort says we shall be ; we may then 
 meet and laugh over these details and dates in young 
 love's calendar. God bless you, cousin Anna. 
 
 « C. C. Murray. 
 
 " P. S. My mother's health is wretched. I leave in a 
 week for Europe." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 407 
 
 When I had finished reading this letter, a wild dizziness 
 seized upon me ; then a numbness, which ended in an 
 attack of catalepsy. I could neither speak, move, nor 
 understand. I could see and hear, but all feeling had 
 gone. Every mental faculty w r as suspended, and I sat 
 there holding the letter before my eyes. I had lost all 
 computation of time. 
 
 The next morning, when the maid came into the room, 
 •she found me sitting there, with my stony eyes fixed on 
 the paper as if still reading. I was very pale, and quite 
 cold; the girl thought I was dead; she shrieked out in 
 affright, which brought the physician, the superintendent, 
 and his wife to the room. Very prompt and efficient 
 means were used. I soon revived, and was restored in a 
 week to my wonted health. 
 
408 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE JOURNAL — A STUNNING ANNOUNCEMENT, 
 
 " Slowly folding, how she lingered, 
 O'er the words their hands had traced, 
 Though the plashing drops had fallen, 
 And the faint lines half effaced/' 
 
 Time wore on in the same tread -mill way as ever. I did 
 not hear from home for a long time. I had but one feel- 
 ing and one interest left; that was to know whether my 
 mother lived, and to see her once more, I went through 
 my tasks and duties mechanically. I never failed in a 
 lesson ; I never committed a fault worthy of reprehension, 
 and on the other hand, I never performed an act deserv- 
 ing commendation. It was thus I remained a sort of link 
 between animate and inanimate nature. I neither loved 
 nor hated, felt neither joy nor sorrow, pleasure nor pain. 
 I had no aspirations — no expectations, no hopes. 
 
 One day my maid brought me a number of letters. I 
 laid them listlessly down by my side. She handed me 
 one ; I opened it, looked at the date ; it was old ; the sig- 
 nature — John Glencoe: I laid it down. She gave me 
 another; it was also from Mr. Glencoe. 1 laid that down. 
 The next was in a neat, lady-like hand. I opened it ; the 
 signature was a strange one — Carolyn somebody — I did 
 not wait to see. It commenced in this way : 
 
 "Dear Young Lady: — I am sitting by your dear 
 mother's bedside, and writing as she dictates. She is 
 feeble, but better. ' Yes, darling child, I am, indeed, bet- 
 ter; have been gradually improving ever since Miss 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 409 
 
 Amanda Glencoe left. I can not tell why, but I feel a 
 great relief in that young lady's absence. Somehow her 
 presence hung like an incubus on me, and my spirit was 
 fettered. While she was here I seemed to lose my free 
 agency, and all volition. She controled me as if I had 
 been a little child, or an animal. Mrs. Murray and her 
 son were to take a sea voyage. Miss Glencoe did not 
 intimate a word of her intention to accompany them 
 abroad ; but on the morning of their departure, she came 
 into my room, attired for traveling. After shedding a 
 great many tears (which she could call up at any moment), 
 she kissed me, and with many regrets, informed me that 
 she would be absent for several years. She then tripped 
 from the room. Presently she returned, and begged me 
 to send her warmest regard to you, and to tell you that 
 your cousin Conrad would be married immediately after 
 his arrival at London. 
 
 " ' I trust, dear child, that you will forgive your poor, 
 deluded mother, for this grand mistake she made in try- 
 ing to shape your destiny. I am firmly convinced now 
 that it was all wrong. Better, far better, to take the 
 world as it comes ; making the best of it, endeavoring to 
 be prepared to meet whatever fate may develop itself. 
 There is a way to do this, child. The dear creature who 
 sits by me now, has told me of it. It is revealed in the 
 good book ; but, heretofore, with those great monstrous 
 scales on my eyes, I could not discern the truth. Your 
 grandmother Glencoe will be here next week. Carolyn 
 says, she is the " salt of the earth." I hope she may prove 
 so. Alas ! (God forgive me for saying it), I have never 
 seen a good Glencoe, save yourself ; unless your cousin 
 John is one. 
 
 " 'Write to me now, darling. I never received a letter, 
 note, or message from any one — not even yourself — 
 while Miss Glencoe was in the house. Did it never strike 
 35 
 
410 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 you, that she and Mrs. Murray were of the same calibre ? 
 God bless and save my child. 
 
 "'Myra Glencoe.' 
 
 " 'P. S. I trust I have not done Miss Glencoe injustice. 
 Were I examined in a court of justice, and her life and 
 my own at stake, I could not shape a reason into words, 
 why I do not love my "dear niece," as she calls herself. 
 I can not point out one single positive wrong she has 
 ever done my family. Yet I dread her, stand in aw^e of 
 her, and can not love her. 
 
 u 1 Your Mother.' " 
 
 The next is from cousin John, and of recent date. I 
 glanced over it. After chiding me for coldness, and 
 scolding me for not writing, and entreating me to do so, 
 and then reiterating his admiration, and unchanging 
 devotion, all interlarded with those sweet words, which 
 are so pretty, as w T ell as acceptable to ears attuned by the 
 Blind Boy to listen, he went on to state that he would 
 sail in half an hour for the port of London. The object 
 of this sudden visit to England, was to witness the nup- 
 tials of his sister. He further said, that immediately 
 after the marriage he would hasten back to claim his 
 reward — the just recompense of so much patient devo- 
 tion. 
 
 The next letter was from cousin Amanda. I knew the 
 handwriting, and laid it down (I felt a presentiment of 
 sorrow), and opened the last one. This was also from 
 cousin John. He had, it seems, been driven by contrary 
 winds, half over the Atlantic ; had been shipwrecked and 
 saved by a small cruiser, which was again stranded on the 
 American coast; consequently the object of his voyage 
 no longer existed. His sister's marriage, of course, would 
 not be delayed because he was. He now expected to 
 return home, where he hoped to meet me, if not on his 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 411 
 
 arrival, very soon after. I took up cousin Amanda's let- 
 ter, and with a sort of icy sickness at the heart, prepared 
 to read it. 
 
 " My dear little Cousin — Would that I had time to 
 tell you of the many wonderful things I have seen since 
 I left home. We have been here in the metropolis of the 
 world, the emporium of every thing, the terminus of all 
 things, two weeks. At first, I felt like an atom, so small, 
 so insignificant in this great thoroughfare, that I began 
 to fear God would forget to take cognizance of me. This 
 wore off, and as our little party drew closer together in 
 our own sitting-room of this immense hotel (which num- 
 bers more inhabitants than many of our incorporated 
 towns in America), I got to think the greater the city, 
 and larger the hotel, the more our privacy, security, and 
 freedom. 
 
 " I am very much engaged, occupied, and absorbed ; as 
 you will of course understand, when I tell you I was mar- 
 ried the day before yesterday, and should have set out on 
 our tour of Europe, to-day, but have been detained by the 
 illness of Mrs. Murray. My sweet little cousin, I wish 
 you could see my glorious husband, now, as I behold him. 
 Tall and straight as a North American Indian ; dark and 
 composed as a Spanish hidalgo ; learned and wise as an 
 Athenian ; firm, decisive, and steadfast as a Scot ; polite 
 and affable as a Frenchman ; aristocratic as an English- 
 man ; and good, and noble, and just, and handsome as an 
 American. And think of it, you little witch, this mir- 
 acle of perfection is the husband of your cousin 
 Amanda. 
 
 " Did you ever know any one have such a run of good 
 fortune? Was ever woman so blest? Mine is a match 
 of intense affection. I loved my husband from the first 
 moment I laid my eyes on him, and I resolved then to 
 
412 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 capture that prize, cost me what it might. I have suc- 
 ceeded. I rarely fail. 
 
 " I hope that you and my brother are as well suited to 
 each other, and just as happy as we are. This will suf- 
 fice for mere mortals. But the sons of the house of Grlen- 
 coe are not distinguished among men as good husbands. 
 The daughters make the fondest wives in the world, if 
 they are not crossed. 
 
 " My husband would send his love to Mrs. John Glen- 
 coe, if he knew I was writing. We both believe that my 
 brother waived the honor he promised us, in favor of 
 greater felicity at home. Now, my dear, let me whisper 
 a few little words very softly in your ear. "We Glencoes 
 are a jealous people, and exacting. Beware of giving even 
 slight cause. Eemember that c trifles light as air,' etc. 
 Eemember Desdemona ! Beware of the familiar friend 
 of old ; the affectionate cousin, etc. Mind how you rouse 
 the sleeping demon in that little man's breast, by look or 
 word, written or spoken. For your life's peace, for your 
 soul's salvation, I warn you. 
 
 " We are corning home ; then I suppose we shall con- 
 trast husbands. Ah ! as much as I love yours, I fear he 
 will suffer by comparison. I can love your husband, but 
 I w T arn you not to love mine. Present my love to my 
 uncle and aunt, and believe me as ever, yours, 
 
 Amanda MUKEAY." 
 
 u Amanda Murray !" shrieked I, so loudly and fiercely 
 that the girls in the next room came running in to see 
 what w-as the matter. It had passed off. I made some 
 slight excuse, which was received. I was mistaken ; I 
 had thought I could not feel. Yes, I was mistaken. I 
 knew, now, that I had but one course to pursue, to yield 
 myself to my fate. 
 
 Another half year rolled by, and then I was called 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 413 
 
 home. I found my mother resigned to all things, even 
 unto death. My grandmother was with her, who was 
 full of love, and sympathy, and Christian piety. My 
 mother's condition was much ameliorated. My father 
 seemed greatly improved in temper. My nurse was now 
 suffered to be with me, which was a great solace. There 
 was a student of my father's living in the house, Walter 
 Jocelyn, a very agreeable, handsome youth. Yes, things 
 had greatly improved since I was last at home. 
 
 When I retired the first night, I said to Aunt Molly, 
 " Well, dear, good nurse, I am so glad to have you here. 
 I think there is quite an improvement in the domestic 
 regime. I am let alone, now, which is a great comfort, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes, bless God ! that's a good thing, ef it'll only hold 
 out." 
 
 " Why, my father seems scarcely to know that I am in 
 the house. I do not think be has spoken a word to me," 
 said I. 
 
 " Yes, I know, honey ; but just wait till that little black- 
 whiskered man comes back. He with the quiverin' upper 
 lip." 
 
 "Where is my cousin John," said I. "When will he 
 be here, nurse ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he'll be here soon enough; I'll warrant he'll 
 come, now that Miss Pet's got back. Well, honey, there's 
 worse men than Mas'r John Glencoe," said she, settling 
 herself for a nap. 
 
 " But, Aunt Molly, what has produced this change about 
 the house?" 
 
 " Good Marsters ! Miss Pet, has you had so much trou- 
 ble, that you has lost all your smartness a'most ? Why 
 can't you see? Bless God! Child, can't you see? Aint 
 they done carry their pints ? Aint that woman done got 
 her son married to the rich gal, and aint they got the for- 
 tunes to splurge on ? Then aint they gwine to marry you 
 
414 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 to the rich man, and then marster will have part o' his'n, 
 to prop up the falling house of the fortunes of Glencoe." 
 
 " Nurse, do you think it was Cousin John who lay in 
 ambush to play the spy, and inform on us, when we were 
 in the conservatory, and then had me sent from home ? " 
 
 " Whew ! Wh-e-w ! " and she spun out the word into a 
 long, shrill whistle. " No, i-n-d-e-e-d ; Mas'r John was 
 not in that hush what you speaks of. No, child, they 
 never told him a word of it. They too smart for that. 
 They keep them things a perfound secret. I tell you 
 agin, Miss Pet, thar's worse folks than Mas'r John. But 
 he perfect tiger when he's raised. Oh, that little man's 
 the devil when his blood's up." 
 
 " Well, who was the spy, Aunt Molly? " 
 
 " Oh, child ! I so sorry; you aint a bit cute now. Who 
 you reckon would do sich thing, but that same one what 
 substract the letter from your writing scrutore, and don't 
 you know who that was? I found it all out on her; 
 and I was great mind to tell Mas'r Conrad, but I was 'fraid 
 old Mas'r John would kill me." 
 
 The next morning, at breakfast, my father told me 
 (speaking very mildly), that he wished to have an hour's 
 conversation with me. I assented. " Marianna, if you 
 prefer it, I will order the barouche, or carriage, or the 
 horses, and we will ride," said he. 
 
 " Thank you, sir, it is unnecessary; I can hear you here, 
 or in the parlor." So he led the way thither. When we 
 were seated, he plunged right into the subject, as if afraid 
 to trust himself with any circumlocution ? " You know, 
 my daughter (he had never called me his daughter before 
 in his life, and this first word of endearment moved me to 
 tears to begin with), that your Cousin John Glencoe is 
 very sincerely and deeply attached to you. Do you not 
 know this?" said he, smoothing my hair down, and 
 toying with my curls. 
 
 " He has often told me so, sir." 
 
T H E N I G H T W A T C H . 
 
 415 
 
 " You believe him, I hope, Marianna ? Do you not ? " 
 t£ Yes, sir. I have had ample proofs of it. I do not 
 
 doubt" 
 
 " Then you return it, of course, my child? " 
 u No, sir," said I, looking him full in the face. 
 " Why not?" rejoined he. 
 " Because I can not, sir." 
 
 " Why so ? Why can not you give your little, foolish, 
 silly heart in return for his capacious, generous, manly 
 one ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, sir, for the reason, that it is what you call it, 
 a weak, silly one. But, father, I have no heart to give. 
 If you command it, I will give my hand to my cousin. 
 But that will be all, and in honesty I must tell him so." 
 
 " Girl, on your life do not breathe a word of the sort. 
 You know not the man. Were you a thousand times 
 fairer and more beautiful than you are, and his wife, he 
 would strangle you, or cut your throat in a phrenzy of 
 love or jealous rage" 
 
 " Or," said I, very calmly, "when his passion had 
 cooled, incarcerate me in a dungeon, or immure me in a 
 madhouse." 
 
 My father shuddered visibly; but I sat unmoved. 
 
 "Why talk thus, Marianna? Who has charge of that 
 rare, precious little thing, your heart?" said he, trying 
 to smile playfully. u Tell me, child, for whom are you 
 keeping it ? " 
 
 " Papa, this is mockery ! worse than mockery, cruelty, 
 the refinement of cruelty. You know that I have loved 
 my cousin Conrad all the days of my life. You know, 
 that this affection, I will not call it a passion, commenced 
 in childhood, nay from my very cradle, and grew with 
 my growth, and strengthened with my strength. You 
 know, that I would have sacrificed friends, relations, 
 position, place, name, and fame, for him. You also know, 
 sir, that with a ruthless hand you tore me away from 
 
416 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 him, that you prevented our meetings ever afterward, 
 intercepted all letters and messages ; then formed a com- 
 bination with his mother and your niece, and blended 
 a few facts, innocent in themselves, with such a tangled 
 web of falsehood, that neither he, nor I, could unravel it. 
 We are separated. We may never meet, yet there are 
 some natures which do not change." 
 
 " Cease ! cease your upbraidings ! What will it avail 
 you now to think of him ? He has deserted you, proved 
 recreant to his faith, and yet would you cling to him? " 
 
 " Does the vine leave the ruined shrine because it has 
 been desecrated? Does it not rather entwine its tendrils 
 lovingly about it, not being able to restore, then to con- 
 ceal its decay ? " 
 
 " He has preferred another to you ; he is a changed 
 man, and heartless. He is not worthy of such disinter- 
 ested attachment." 
 
 " Grant you ; but does the ivy fall away from the oak, 
 because it has been riven and blasted by the thunder 
 bolt ? Saw you ever that, my father ? " 
 
 " This is all needless and unavailing. Why pursue such 
 a strain. I am mortified and pained to see so little spirit 
 in one of my name. Such cases have never occurred 
 among the Glencoes," said he, bitterly. 
 
 " Spirit ! did you say spirit, sir ? Well, I have none ; 
 you say truly. It has been crushed out, after being 
 broken ! You had no hand in this, papa, had you ? Now, 
 sir, inform me, if you please, as to the object of this con- 
 versation ? To what do you desire it should lead ? I 
 am ready to obey your commands." 
 
 " I have received a letter from Mr. John Glencoe. He 
 writes that he will not present himself here again, save 
 as your accepted lover. That he has no desire to perse- 
 cute you with his addresses ; and if you do positively 
 and unequivocally reject him, that he will at once go 
 abroad, and never see you, or cross your path again." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 417 
 
 "This is certainly very noble and generous of my 
 cousin John," said I, and I could not refrain from weep- 
 ing. 
 
 " Well, daughter, what shall I write? " 
 
 " I will talk to my mother, sir, and give you my answer 
 afterward. But have the kindness to tell me candidly, 
 why you are so anxious for this union ? You know I am 
 very young. I do not wish to be married, still I am ready 
 to obey your commands ; but I should like to hear your 
 reasons." 
 
 M I can not tell you. Why, what reason do you sup- 
 pose I can have, other than your own welfare and 
 happiness ? " 
 
 u Ah ! you have never consulted my happiness ; say not 
 that. Whatever your motives may be, I am ready to 
 obey you ; but do not say that again, papa ; I will not 
 hear it." 
 
 " Well! no matter, go now and talk to your mother and 
 grandmother ; then come back quickly, and tell me what 
 to w r rite." And, for the first time in his life, he kissed me. 
 I really do believe, that the hope of gaining my father's 
 forgiveness, for that first sin («. e., that I was not born a 
 boy), and that he would be reconciled to my poor mother, 
 and, after a while, would get to love us both, had more to 
 do with gaining my consent than aught else. When I 
 had told them of the nature of this long colloquy in the 
 parlor, and that I had come to ask their advice, my 
 poor mother wept, and my grandmother rocked herself 
 violently. At last she said, ' Well, Myra, don't kill your- 
 self crying at the outset. If you are opposed to it, tell 
 the child so, and let her go back to her father. 
 
 " O Clod ! have pity on me, and direct me in this try- 
 ing emergency," cried my mother. 
 
 " That is always a good prayer. But you must decide 
 quickly. I don't want John Grlencoe to come storming up 
 
418 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 here like a hurricane as he is, when he's angry," said my 
 grandmother. 
 
 " What do you advise, grandma? I was sent equally to 
 you." 
 
 " Now, child, my opinion is that your heart should be 
 your only counselor. When a girl is so undecided as to 
 require advice, you may be sure there is something wrong. 
 My belief is, that you had better let John Glencoe pass. 
 There are more men and women than you two ; besides, 
 you are such a baby, you are not lit to take the head of 
 a family." 
 
 " O mother ! you are ruining everything. You will 
 get us all into trouble. Her father will be furious. I 
 can't explain, but there is a tie, a link of interest between 
 them; some business matter, which makes it indispensably 
 necessary to fasten John Glencoe to his uncle with grap- 
 pling irons, as it were." 
 
 " And this poor child is to be made the grappling iron, 
 is she ? It is all wrong. I will never give my voice to 
 such a bargain." Just then, my father came in, and she 
 continued, " So, my son, you are about to sell your child 
 to that hot-headed John Glencoe, for value received. Aye ! 
 is it so ? " 
 
 My father turned livid with rage. She went on, " I am 
 opposed to this sale." 
 
 " But why, madam?" said he, biting his lip to keep 
 dow^n his fury. "I do not think you understand the 
 matter." 
 
 u Yes, I understand enough to know that she don't love 
 him ; and love is the only real safeguard to the virtue of 
 such a child-wife as she will be." 
 
 " Oh ! for the love of heaven," said my mother, " say 
 no more. You will raise a fiend here, presently, that all 
 your philosophy, reason, and religion will be incommen- 
 surate to put down." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 419 
 
 My grandmother walked close up to my father, and 
 looking him full in the face, said, " My son, I have one 
 thing more to state, and then I'm done ; but I'll stick to 
 it, and you must abide by it. When that poor thing 
 becomes the wife of that jealous, fierce savage, and he 
 begins to exact and extort, ending with violence, like all 
 of you, that child will hate and then despise him. She 
 will be goaded on by his treatment and her own wretch- 
 edness, to commit some desperate act. Then you, at the 
 head of the pack, will raise the hue and cry, and like a 
 parcel of blood-hounds, you'll hunt her to death. Let 
 the sin then rest where it is due, on your own shoulders ; 
 and retribution will fall where it is just, upon your own 
 head. As for myself, I will stand by that child, right or 
 wrong." And the dear, good, upright old lady hobbled 
 out of the room. 
 
 My father looked as ferocious as a tiger after her; then 
 turning to me, said, u Marianna, what shall I write to 
 your cousin ? " 
 
 "Word the message as you choose, sir/' said I. "I 
 have already told you that I would obey your mandate. 
 Why should I care?" He frowned darkly, and left the 
 room. 
 
 I never knew what he wrote ; but three days from that 
 time, Mr. Glencoe arrived. I met him without any emo- 
 tion. On his part, he was so delighted to see me that he 
 overlooked my apathy. He sat by me the whole day, and 
 if I broke away and ran to my room, he very soon crea,- . 
 ted some excuse to call me down — a book to look oyer 
 with him, a print to examine, a walk or ride, or perhaps 
 he wished to practice with me some duet for the flute and 
 guitar. He performed beautifully on several instruments. 
 
 On the third day, the dreaded subject was broached, and 
 he asked me to name a day. I said, with an involuntary 
 shudder, that all days were alike to me now, and then 
 most inopportunely burst into tears. He was holding my 
 
420 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 hand at the time he commenced speaking ; but at this 
 juncture he coldly laid it on my lap, drew himself up, and 
 leaning back in his chair, remained silent. I felt that his 
 eyes were fixed on me, which only tended to increase my 
 distress. 
 
 At last I became calm. I raised my eyes imploringly 
 to his face, but in an instant closed them. Would to God 
 they had closed forever ! I never saw so terrific a coun- 
 tenance. He was as pale as death ; that spasmodic twitch- 
 ing of the upper lip was so intense as to disclose the teeth, 
 which, like his sister's, were very fine, remarkably sharp, 
 and exceedingly white. "When those teeth w T ere visible, 
 the mouth gave forth a decided snarl. His eyes w T ere 
 bloodshot. 
 
 I spread my hands out, holding the palms toward him, 
 as if to drive him from me, and involuntarily exclaimed, 
 "O God! help me. What is the matter with you, sir? 
 Cousin John, why do you look so ? " 
 
 He arose and walked the floor, with his thumbs stuck 
 in the arm-holes of his vest. I w r atched him for some time, 
 unnoticed. Then I went to him, and laying my hand on 
 his arm, as I looked up at him, said, " Sir, I give you 
 until to-morrow morning to think of this. I have no 
 apology to make ; I will give no explanation. If, at the 
 end of that time, when you have pondered on it, and 
 brooded over it, you still desire this marriage, I will con- 
 sent in two days, after, to fulfill my father's engagement 
 with you." 
 
 He seemed surprised, I thought; but beneath that, I 
 could see great satisfaction. He caught my hand, carried 
 it to his lips, and would for the first time have embraced 
 me. I drew back. 
 
 " Not so, my cousin. Wait until you have reflected, 
 and made your decision." 
 
 " I have made it even now. I will take you, with that 
 veil of mystery hanging over your conduct. Hoping that 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 421 
 
 you will yourself raise it, and that you will then reward 
 my devotion by loving me. Promise me this, dear 
 girl " 
 
 " I can promise you nothing, sir. I say now, and I will 
 vow no more at the altar. I will do my best to please 
 you. When you have considered on it, and after we have 
 been to church, and done that which I hope we will both 
 try to do, however imperfectly, then meet me here. Good 
 evening, sir." 
 
 I did not come to the tea table. I took my breakfast in 
 my room. I saw no one but my nurse, who ministered to 
 my few requirements. I felt that I did not wish to look on 
 the face of a human being save my mother and this good 
 creature. To my father's frequent requests, and then his 
 commands to come to the parlor, I only replied, "I am 
 indisposed." 
 
 At eleven o'clock, I descended to the drawing-room, 
 attired for church. My cousin came up, offered his arm, 
 and thus we proceeded. We took our seats in my father's 
 pew, side by side. When the service was over, we 
 returned home without saying a word. 
 
 At dinner we all appeared as usual. The young man 
 to whom I have before alluded, Walter Jocelyn, was there. 
 Being very estimable himself, and my father as hos- 
 pitable, this youth was invited to become a guest in his 
 house. During the whole of that morning, he watched 
 us closely. I would never look up but his eyes were fixed 
 upon me. This was embarrassing and a little curious, I 
 thought, seeing that we were strangers. After dinner I 
 took my seat in the drawing-room, to await the gentle- 
 men who lingered over their wine. Walter came first. 
 
 "Miss Glencoe," said he, "my acquaintance with you 
 is short, but not so brief but that I have divined your 
 secret ; have also seen disclosed the rock on which your 
 domestic peace is to be wrecked." 
 
422 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 " Oh my friend," said I (for I felt a premonition that 
 he was, and ever would be my friend), then you know 
 that my heart is not in this marriage? " 
 
 " Yes: and that you are most wretched. I foresee, that 
 few or none of your friends will have access to you after 
 your marriage. You will be guarded with the lynx-eye 
 of suspicion. Now let me tell you; I am ready at any 
 moment, in any way (no matter whether right or wrong), 
 to serve you. My person, my purse, my influence, my 
 mind, my soul are subject to your slightest command. Soon 
 it will be a crime to tell you this. Then sink it deep into 
 the cells of your memory, to be called up in time of need. 
 Feel no dread or distrust; remember, that the eye of love 
 is as far-seeing and as vigilant as that of jealousy. Grant 
 me one favor?" I bowed assent. "Surfer me to kiss 
 your hand, in token of the good faith between us, and 
 that I am understood" 
 
 He said this last word with peculiar emphasis. I held 
 out my hand. He imprinted a fervent kiss on it, and 
 bowing, left. 
 
 In a few moments my cousin John entered the room, 
 hurriedly ; looked curiously about, from righ t to left. 
 " I thought Mr. Jocelyn was here? " 
 u He has just left, sir," said I, coldly. 
 " Of whom was he in pursuit?" 
 
 " He did not say, sir ; but I supposed he had called in 
 to converse with me. He did not speak of any one 
 else." 
 
 " Did he so ? Then why did he leave so soon ? " 
 
 " I can not tell ; I did not invite him to remain, and I 
 rather think he knew, or suspected our appointment." 
 
 I felt my blood boil in my veins, but I was determined 
 to avoid all scenes. This appeared to be satisfactory. 
 When he found I did not evidence either anxiety, curios- 
 ity, or trepidation at this first demonstration of the ruling 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 423 
 
 passion, he came and threw himself down on the sofa 
 by me, and taking my hand, looked earnestly into my 
 face as he said : 
 
 " My love, did you ever know, or can you conceive of 
 such affection as this ? Listen : I once knew a man who 
 loved a woman so fiercely, that he got to hate every other 
 man who looked at her, and in time, grew T jealous of her 
 own father." 
 
 I smiled faintly, and added : " Well, did such love make 
 them happy ? " 
 
 " Him it made happy beyond the power of description." 
 
 " But the lady, how it was with her ? " 
 
 " Why, as far as the chronicles tell, she was happy, too. 
 How could it be otherwise ? She was very beautiful, and 
 exceedingly gentle, and angelic in all things." With this 
 he caught me in his arms, and strained me to his breast 
 with such violence, that to this day, I am in doubt 
 whether he did not intend to crush me to death. Be this 
 as it may, I screamed out, and my father came running 
 into the room from the parlor. 
 
 " In the name of all the saints! what is the matter?" 
 
 " Nothing, papa," said I, laughing and crying at the 
 same time, " only cousin John is trying to kill me 
 already." 
 
 "Fie! fie!" said he, angrily. " John, I wonder how 
 you can wish to be bothered with such a little fool." 
 
 When we were again alone, I said, "Sir, I came here to 
 talk seriously ; but I must say, you are very light and 
 frivolous this Sabbath afternoon." 
 
 II Our Sunday ends with High Mass until Vespers, you 
 know." 
 
 " Yes," said I. " So tell me to what decision you have 
 come?" 
 
 u Now, is not that too much ? How can you ask such 
 a question ? Have you not been answered ? I can not 
 live without you, Marianna. I must possess you either 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 with, or without love. But woe to the man who steps 
 between us ! Aye ! let him try it." He had risen from 
 his seat, and stood before me — his hand on the gold- 
 hilted dagger which he constantly wore on his bosom. 
 That upper lip, and those dark, grey eyes, performed 
 their functions as faithfully as ever ; and the white teeth 
 gleamed from under the dark moustache. I never saw 
 that expression on his face, but my mind reverted to the 
 hapless Desdemona, and my cousin's warning letters. 
 
 On the following Tuesday, as I had promised, we were 
 married. My mother's ill health, furnished the excuse 
 for a private wedding. 
 
THE N I G H T W A T C 11 . 
 
 425 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE JOURNAL THE RETURN. 
 
 " Better confide and be deceived, 
 
 A thousand times, by treacherous foes, 
 Than once accuse the innocent, 
 Or let suspicion mar repose/' 
 
 " In the human breast two master-passions can not co-exist." 
 
 A year has elapsed — time flying, sometimes, so swiftly 
 that I did not even hear the rustle of his wings. Then 
 they were clogged, and heavy, and I felt them trail on the 
 ground; taking up trifles — insignificant things — which 
 made life wearisome. We have just returned from a 
 northern tour, and are now again at the old homestead. 
 My mother's health has not improved ; and my grand- 
 mother has taken up her abode in the house. 
 
 My parents made it a sine qua non with my husband, 
 that we should reside with them; everything goes on 
 swimmingly. My father seems to be no longer annoyed 
 by duns, or pinched by necessity. His purse is like the 
 " widow's cruise," — bottomless. Mr. Glencoe, no longer 
 cousin John, is the presiding, controling, and supplying 
 divinity of the place. My father loves him; my mother 
 looks up to him ; everybody respects him ; my grand- 
 mother endures him because he is my husband ; and I, 
 who should have all those feelings blent into one, only 
 fear him ! 
 
 Ho seems to love me as fiercely as ever, and nothing 
 has yet occurred to mar our tranquility. I said we had 
 36 
 
426 
 
 T H E N I G H T W A T C H 
 
 just returned home. Preparations are making to cele- 
 brate this event with great magnificence. It has been a 
 jubilee in the house since the first night after our arrival. 
 Friends and acquaintances come flocking in. Congratu- 
 latory and adulatory speeches are the most current coin 
 in use. My gentlemen friends say, " She is greatly im- 
 proved." My lady favorites exclaim, " Lord ! how Mrs. 
 Glencoe has grown." My mother seems full of gratitude 
 that I am not heart-broken and martyr-like. My father 
 addresses me as " My daughter, Mrs. John Glencoe," and 
 at last seems proud of me. My grandmother rocks herself, 
 shakes her head, but says nothing. Nurse says, " Bless 
 God ! all's well what turns out well. I hope he'll hold 
 out," 
 
 The invitations are sent for three hundred persons, and 
 the third day after this, this great fete is to come off. I 
 have had a splendid dress ordered from JN r ew York, five 
 hundred dollars will not cover the cost of it, to say noth- 
 ing of the jewels. My husband has already expended a 
 small fortune on me ; I ought to love him, children are 
 generally won by gauds and gewgaws. Would to God I 
 could become attached to him. Every new manifestation 
 of his regard makes my heart sick. I wish sometimes 
 that he were cross, so that I might in some way appease 
 ray self-accusing. 
 
 We are sitting in the drawing-room, the dress has 
 arrived. It is superb ; I am charmed with it, or rather I 
 would be, if I cared for anything. By some strange train 
 of ideas, without any association, my mind is far away. 
 I am thinking how much joy, and gladness, and delight, 
 would be gushing forth from my loving heart, if he were 
 sitting tii ere instead of Mm. Then the still small voice 
 whispers, ,k Bethink thyself, Marianna. Thou art a wedded 
 wife !" And I droop my head and weep. On being asked 
 wherefor (for my attentive husband never fails to inquire). 
 
t ii i<: n i Q n 'j' w a t c H . 427 
 
 I reply, "Because, sir, you are so kind and generous." He 
 looks me keenly in the face ; but I have been obliged 
 to resort to subterfuges, too often, to be embarrassed by a 
 look. 
 
 While we sat there, the servant comes in with the 
 letters. There are several for Dr. Glencoe, and two or 
 three for John Glencoe, junr. One has a black seal. He 
 lays that aside, and when he has read the others, opens 
 it. He becomes deadly pale, but is silent; then he 
 rubs his hand over his face, as if his thoughts strayed, 
 or he felt his mind growing obtuse. 
 
 After awhile he handed me the letter, and went away. 
 I was glad he did so — had he witnessed that fierce pa- 
 roxysm, that breaking up of the ice, that bursting forth 
 of suppressed feeling, and long pent-up emotions, I know 
 not what would have been the result. I hastened to my 
 room, locked the door, and again read the letter. Mrs. 
 Murray, my cousin Amanda, is dead. She had died sud- 
 denly in giving birth to a little daughter ; and they are 
 now on their way home. Mrs. Murray, his mother, was 
 still in bad health; was much changed, and longed for 
 retirement, that she might devote herself to the little 
 Genevieve, the infant daughter of my cousin Amanda. 
 
 The letter was from Conrad. He desired his love to 
 his cousin Marianna. I sat for a long time musing over 
 its contents. I would not look into my heart. I would 
 not suffer myself to contemplate the present or the future. 
 I wished to act right, and I aimed to do so. My cousin 
 wrote in a manly, dignified tone. His letter was brief, 
 cold, and sorrowful. There was no assumption of intense, 
 overwhelming grief; no affectation of fine sentimentality. 
 He appeared as I had thought him — all truth and candor. 
 
 There came a low tap ; I got up, and found that I was 
 scarcely able to move. I reeled forward, and when I 
 opened the door, fell forward into the arms of ray hus- 
 
428 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 band ; I had fainted. When I recovered, I found him hang- 
 ing tenderly over me. 
 
 We were alone ; my husband kissed me, and said, look- 
 ing very sad, " Dear child of sensibility ! But we loved 
 her so much ! Poor dear lost sister! Thine was a bril- 
 liant but meteor-like career ! " 
 
 My father came in, and after making exactly the proper 
 number of inquiries, and offering precisely the suitable 
 amount of condolence, said, C I must send out your regrets, 
 and have this festival stayed, I presume, John? " 
 
 " If you please, uncle. " Then he walked across the 
 room, and stood for some time gazing moodily out of the 
 window. 
 
 A week more, and the travelers are at home. His apart- 
 ments are opposite to mine. I look over, and see him 
 passing to and fro in his room. Now he stands beside the 
 window, and /, like a guilty thing, conceal myself behind 
 the curtain and peep out covertly. It has been three 
 years since we met. He appears from this view to be 
 much taller and stouter ; wears heavy black whiskers, but 
 no moustache ; looks thoughtful and sad ; has his eyes fixed 
 steadfastly on our house, on my window. 
 
 It is the month of June : the windows are raised, and, 
 as they are large, I can see into his room. 
 
 Mr. Glencoe crosses the street, and rings the bell. I trem- 
 ble with excitement at the thought of any one touching Ms 
 dear hand. O G-od ! forgive me ! I feel that I would be 
 willing to die, to be crushed to death, if I could once more 
 be clasped to his bosom ! My husband approaches him ; 
 they shake hands. Now, there seems to be an awkward 
 silence; after which they seat themselves near the win- 
 dow, and enter into conversation. I find my heart insti- 
 tuting a comparison between my cousin and my husband. 
 God help me ! I can no longer control my thoughts ! I 
 must tear myself away from the maddening scene. I 
 
THE NIGHT W A T II . 
 
 429 
 
 threw myself on the sofa ; then I went to the lounge ; 
 arose from that and dashed myself down on the floor ; 
 then got up and lay upon the bed, putting the pillow on 
 my face, and pressing it down furiously, as if to shut out 
 all remembrance. Alas ! Externals have nothing to do 
 with it. There is a long record of the past within, adorned 
 by his image. 
 
 I hear Mr. Glencoe talking below ; I know that he will 
 either send for me or come up. I bathe my face, arrange 
 my hair, make my toilet, and pass into my mother's room. 
 She and my grandmother are engaged in talking with 
 some lady neighbors ; so I manage to escape their notice. 
 Presently a servant comes. u Mr. Glencoe says, will you 
 do him the favor to come and sit w r ith him, madam? " 
 
 I go down immediately, and find him looking very 
 somber. After sitting together for some time, talking on 
 indifferent subjects, he says suddenly, looking me full in 
 the eyes, u My love, you do not inquire about your cousin 
 Conrad." In an instant I felt the blood rush to my face ; 
 I knew he marked this down. " Why have you not asked 
 about him?" 
 
 I stammered out, " I thought it would make you still 
 more sad, and forebore to speak until you chose to open 
 the subject." This did not do ; I saw he was not satisfied. 
 All that day and the next he was silent and moody. T 
 would look up, and find his eyes intently fixed on me, as 
 if he thought there was some secret which he expected 
 to surprise and read on my countenance. 
 
 Two days after that, we were sitting in the parlor, when 
 the street door bell rang, and I heard that voice wiiich 
 never failed to thrill my whole frame, ask, " Is my cousin 
 Marian na at home ? " 
 
 u Yes, sir; walk into the drawing-room," said the boy, 
 opening the door. 
 
 On first catching the sound of his voice, I had sprung 
 to my feet, and as he entered the door, with an irrepress- 
 
430 THE NIGH T W ATOH, 
 
 ible si out of gladness, I ruslied into his arms and hid my 
 head in his bosom. He strained me to his breast, kissed 
 me passionately on • the forehead, cheeks, lips, over and 
 over again ; then held me at arm's length, looking at me 
 so lovingly, so tenderly, that I was forced to close my 
 eyes or die of rapture. Then he would catch me up 
 again, and murmur, u My dear cousin ! My darling girl ! 
 My own one ! " Then holding me off, and looking at me, 
 would say, " Oh ! how beautiful ! How marvelously beau- 
 tiful ! How exquisitely lovely ! " 
 
 I presume all this passed in a much shorter time than 
 has taken to write it. We took no note of his night. 
 The world, with all its vexatious annoyances, had receded 
 from my thoughts. I was only conscious of a wild, deli- 
 rious joy. I was once more resting on that idolized 
 bosom. I felt his heart beat, I heard it ; and my own 
 throbbed responsively. But this state could not last. I 
 should have expired in ecstacy. Ah ! why do we, poor, 
 short-sighted mortals, evermore drain the cup to the 
 dregs, if it is not dashed from the lips? 
 
 We awoke, but it was too late. On turning to sit down, 
 we met my husband face to face. Conrad had not seen 
 him, and /had forgotten him. There he stood, with his 
 arms folded over his breast, his eyes bloodshot, his face 
 bloodless, and that upper lip quivering, and jerking, and 
 snarling, revealing those sharp, white, glistening teeth. I 
 fell on the sofa, and covered my eyes with my hands, to 
 shut out the appalling spectacle. 
 
 Conrad approached him, and said with stern calmness, 
 " Sir, I hold myself accountable to you for this scene. I 
 am at your service at any time." 
 
 A low, hissing laugh, with " I thank you, sir," escaped 
 my husband, and they left the room together. 
 
 I was alone. I felt bewildered, almost insane, for a few 
 moments, frantic. I would have rushed after them. I 
 wished to flee away, to hide from the face of every human 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 431 
 
 being, so that I might be alone with my thoughts. I 
 essayed to do so, but only had strength to totter across 
 the room, and fall again on a sofa. 9 Then, fortunately, 
 there was a suspension of my faculties ; I sank into a 
 state of inanity. A lethargic repose stole over me, and I 
 lay quite still. I neither saw nor heard anything. I felt 
 no anguish, knew no joy. Hope seemed to have taken 
 her everlasting night, and memory to have closed her 
 avenues. 
 
 The servant came in to light the gas, then supper was 
 announced. I got up mechanically, and passing into the 
 room, took my seat at the table. My grandmother pre- 
 sided at the head, the family surrounded the board. My 
 friend Walter sat opposite to me. Neither my father nor 
 my husband came in. The meal passed on* in silence. I 
 saw that young Walter's eyes were fixed on me ; I did not 
 care. He addressed some common-place questions ; I did 
 not answer, for I could not comprehend his words. I 
 gulped down my tea, then rose from the table and left the 
 room as mechanically as I had entered it. I had gone 
 and taken my seat in the parlor. 
 
 Walter followed me thither, sat down by me, looking 
 mournfully into my face. " Ah ! I knew it ; my own 
 heart foreboded this. I would have warned you, but I 
 had no opportunity. Ah ! how quickly the poison cor- 
 rodes!" I said not a word, but sat quite still, with my 
 eyes closed, and my arms hanging languidly down, 
 scarcely breathing. 
 
 Presently he took my hand. I sprang to my feet. 
 " Oh ! for the love of Christ ! do not touch me ! I am 
 mad ! Oh ! I'm mad ! " and I rushed to my room, threw 
 myself on the floor, w T here I remained throughout the 
 whole night, without undressing. I heard the clock strike 
 every hour until day. Oh ! that long, dreary, lonely 
 night ! 
 
432 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 He did not return. I could not tell whether I was 
 pleased or disturbed at it. I had ceased to reason, and 
 no longer tried to understand myself. Morning dawned, 
 and I had not slept. My maid came in and said my 
 mother was inquiring for me. My father had not returned, 
 and she felt alarmed. I suffered myself to he dressed, and 
 went to my mother. I found her much excited. Seeing 
 me so calm, she grew also tranquil. She said thai Con- 
 rad and John Glencoe had left the house together, the 
 latter being as pale as a corpse. Soon after, a messenger 
 came for my father ; since which time they had not been 
 heard of. She claimed of me to explain the mystery. I 
 could not ; I had no heart to speak. 
 
 Just then my grandmother came to the bedside. " Tut, 
 tut! what is this fuss about? Stop all your crying. 
 Come, hush it all up at once. There's nothing the mat- 
 ter. You know not these Glencoes yet ? By to-morrow, 
 all will come right. They are only at the club. They 
 find the faces of them things with red and black spots 
 more attractive than the countenances of their pretty 
 wives. That's all. It has always been the way with 
 them. Think no more of it." 
 
 But my mother could not be thus easily pacified. She 
 therefore sent Molly over to Mrs. Murray's to inquire 
 after the health of the invalid, with directions to recon- 
 noiter. 
 
 She soon came back and reported that she found the 
 lady sitting up, dressed in a splendid mourning robe de 
 ckambre ; but she was unable to walk from a recent 
 attack of neuralgia. After she left Mrs. Murray's room, 
 on her way through the hall, she heard her name called. 
 She turned quickly and saw my cousin come from his 
 room ; he gave her two notes, then went back and shut 
 the door. 
 
 " Oh, ho ! Beginning that game again, are you ? Well, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 433 
 
 I reckon the old one in there will soon break that up as 
 once before, when she comes to know it." Then she began 
 to sing a line from ' Love's Young Dream,'— 
 
 V * Oh ! that hallowed form is ne'er forgot, 
 Which first love traced/ " 
 
 And Tivvy ran off, laughing and singing. 
 
 One note was to my mother, expressing his regret on 
 hearing of her increased indisposition, and begging her 
 to name an hour to receive him. The other was to me. 
 
 " At Home, 10 o'clock. 
 u My life, my soul, my Marianna ! I care not if you are 
 his wife ! You are still my only sunbeam! The only ray 
 to light and warm my cold and gloomy path through 
 this cheerless vale. I believe we have been deceived — 
 defrauded. I think now, since I have met you, and felt 
 the throbs of that loving heart, as it panted on my 
 bosom, that it was all a work of treachery — a tissue of 
 falsehoods — a device of evil ones to tear us asunder. 
 And now I love you ten thousand times more than ever. 
 Can you conceive of such a thing, dear girl ? I was led 
 to believe that you were estranged — that you preferred 
 him, the stranger cousin, to me, who helped your mother 
 to rear you, and who had, from that hour of innocent joys 
 and infantile delights, loved you on with an untiring 
 devotion, until I breathed the passionate adoration of 
 manhood into your pure ears. I am now, Anna, con- 
 vinced that all was false seeming, and that those letters 
 were forgeries. But who was the perpetrator? you will 
 ask me. Aye ! let us not seek to know. It is too late to 
 remedy the evil ; but I shall not struggle against the 
 promptings of my soul, which tell me that there is no 
 purer or holier shrine on the face of the earth ; and it is 
 there I shall, from henceforth, offer up my homage, my 
 untiring adoration, Do not be alarmed at what tran- 
 37 
 
434 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 spired in the parlor. Your that is, Mr. Glencoe — is a 
 
 perfect tiger in fierceness ; a lion in courage. But do you 
 not know, my love, that these wild beasts are in subjec- 
 tion to their keepers ? Your poor cousin Conrad has had 
 an opportunity of studying the peculiar traits of mind 
 and temper of the Grlencoes. 
 
 " Behave with calm dignity ; make no concessions ; no 
 apology for what has passed, or for what may occur. You 
 have done no wrong; you meant none. Nature — sup- 
 pressed nature, burst forth then. The human heart is 
 said to be deceitful above all things ; but truth sometimes 
 forced to conceal itself at the bottom, will at last, cry out 
 for freedom, and assert its supremacy. Such love as ours 
 is from heaven, heavenly. It is an emanation from Him, 
 who is the source of all love. We have been cheated of 
 ours, and the wronged and wrung soul demands retri- 
 bution. 
 
 " Trust to me, my sweet girl. I will never compromise 
 or involve you in trouble. I shall continue to visit you 
 and your mother as usual ; that is, if you will permit me. 
 Express but one word of disapprobation to this proposal ; 
 show but the slightest symptom of satiety, and I will 
 withdraw. Say that your happiness is increased by this, 
 and I will stand aloof and watch over you from a dis- 
 tance. Till then, my life, my love, my soul, I am your 
 true friend. I shall call on your mother in the course of 
 the day. Shall I also, see my little cousin Anna ? 
 
 "C, C. Murray." 
 
 I locked myself up within my chamber. I pondered 
 over this letter. I did not subscribe to it with my under- 
 standing; my sense of honor forbade it. The still small 
 voice condemned it. But the heart is sometimes a special 
 pleader. Yet I could not forget that I w^as a wife, an 
 immaculate one. I thought it cruel in my cousin to tempt 
 me thus ; and I uttered one of those bitter walls. " O 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 435 
 
 God ! teach me the way, and deliver me from tempta- 
 tion ! " I again read the letter; reason lent me her ray, 
 while in the gloomy solitude of my room, to view his 
 concU^ and scan his motives. The verdict of my better 
 judgment, and that of religion, as far as I knew, was 
 against him ; but this heart, this poor, weak, sinful heart 
 arrayed itself in panoply of steel to do battle in his 
 cause. But I had prayed to God to deliver me from this 
 strait, and my grandmother had told me to do so at all 
 times in faith. So I firmly believed that my impulses, 
 thenceforth, would be directed and incited by Him. 
 Eeader, can you doubt the issue ? 
 
 I did not go down to tea. The next day came, without 
 bringing home either my father or husband. In the after- 
 noon, my mother's maid came in, and said Mr. Murray 
 was with her mistress, and desired to see me. I begged 
 to be excused, pleading a violent headache, which was 
 true. I heard no more from him. 
 
 A few hours after, when I had fallen into a light sleep, 
 there was a gentle tap at the door. My husband entered 
 and came right up to me. I rose to meet him, expecting 
 rebukes and abuse. He kissed me, and his lips were hot; 
 there was also a smell of wine on his breath. He seemed 
 nervous and excited ; laughed a good deal, but this, too, 
 partook of the hollowness and coarseness of the satur- 
 nalia. There were many subtleties used to throw me off 
 my guard, and to lead me, as he thought ingeniously, to 
 speak of my cousin, by alluding to his mother several 
 times. 
 
 I asked him, at last, if he had yet called ? 
 
 « Why no, little wife, I have waited for you to show me 
 the way, well knowing that it would be such a treat to 
 you to do so." 
 
 Then he looked so keenly into my eyes, that I must 
 have quailed, had there been life enough left in me to 
 
436 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 furnish one single emotion. I calmly remarked, " I am at 
 your service, sir, at any time." 
 
 He laughed loudly again, and said, "My uncle John 
 would have dragged me in there last night, and thjg|ight 
 before ; but I would not go. By the by, Anna, yourrather 
 is in love with that piece of frame-work." 
 
 " Why do you speak so slightingly of Mrs. Murray, sir ? " 
 
 " Why do you take it up so? Do you love her too? " 
 Then he snarled. 
 
 " I cultivate a feeling of complacency for her." 
 
 " Yes, I know, and for the son too ; " and he grew pale. 
 
 "No, sir, that is natural." 
 
 He jumped up, and looked fiercely at me, but seeing me 
 quite unmoved, sat down again. Presently he arose, 
 walked toward the door — then wheeling suddenly, as if 
 struck by some new thought, said, " Anna, my love, we 
 are to have company to tea. I wish you to be bright." I 
 bowed assent. 
 
 I slept for an hour, then submitted to a very elaborate 
 toilet. I do not know why I did this ; I did not analyze 
 the feeling which induced it; but I rather rejoiced at my 
 appearance when I viewed myself in the large mirror. I 
 was summoned to the drawing-room. It occurred to me, 
 that I would wait and see whether my husband would 
 come for me as usual. I remained some time ; and when 
 he did not come, I felt hurt. What a strange compound 
 we are ! What a bundle of contrarieties ! Yesterday, my 
 greatest desire was to keep him at a distance. To-day, I am 
 wounded because he fails in a trifling point of etiquette. 
 
 I went to see my mother. When I asked her of my 
 father, she burst into tears. At this moment the door 
 opened, and my husband entered, looking still very much 
 flushed. He comes up to the bedside, and greets my 
 mother, inquiring kindly about her health ; then asked 
 for my father? Ere he could be answered, the latter 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 437 
 
 comes in ; and walking up to me said, " Marianna, you 
 are inquired for in the parlor until I am tired of it. What 
 do you here so long? Go down, John." 
 
 " Yes. Come, my love ; I am here on purpose to lead 
 you to our friends." 
 
 As we passed from the room, I heard my grandmother 
 say, " Merciful God ! They are both drunk." 
 
 On going into the parlor, my husband seemed to make 
 a point of leading me up to my cousin. He arose without 
 embarrassment, shook hands with me, and seated himself 
 by my side. I glanced around the room. There were 
 several other gentlemen present. All that evening, Mr. 
 Glencoe seemed to feel a savage joy in witnessing the 
 attentions of Conrad ; and tried in every way consistent 
 with politeness, to throw us together. When supper was 
 announced, he was left to go with me, and to take the 
 vacant seat by my side. When I was invited to play, 
 after tea, my cousin handed me to the instrument, turned 
 the music, and asked for the songs. All the other guests 
 were withdrawn to take refreshments — sometimes indi- 
 vidually, and once or twice en masse. He was never 
 invited. 
 
 From that evening I date the commencement of a long 
 series of sorrows and petty persecutions. Everything 
 seemed to excite his suspicions. Then he would break 
 out into bitter reproaches, open invectives, and coarse 
 accusations. Sometimes he would throw out innuendoes, 
 and taunt me, saying, with a hideous smile, that " I had 
 been forsaken, and cast off for another." Again, for a 
 whole week, I was not allowed to see my cousin. Was 
 compelled to keep my room, and feign sickness as an 
 excuse, when he and others called. Then I would be 
 paraded out, and left alone with him ; and tempted and 
 lured on to do and say things heedlessly, which might 
 have been wrong under some circumstances and with less 
 provocation. 
 
438 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 I was almost deranged. I scarce knew right from 
 wrong ; and if I erred in speech or act, it was from igno- 
 rance. But I felt myself growing reckless. I began to 
 feel that I did not feel. I no longer tried to please my 
 husband or my father. They had crushed this desire, 
 with all spirit, out of me. I had become a mere automa- 
 ton in the hands of any who might take the trouble to 
 direct me. I implicitly obeyed my husband and father : 
 I went and came as they directed. I met my cousin or 
 did not, just as they chose to suggest. I failed in nothing; 
 yet I made no effort to succeed, because I cared not. 1 
 was at that time, as ever, a chaste, obedient and respectful 
 wife. I did all that God suffered me to do. I did not 
 love him. I could not. I had not the power to do so. 
 These continual droppings of small things — this fretting 
 away of the foundation, was effecting a fearful change in 
 feeling and principle. I was so wretched that I did not see 
 how my condition could be made better or worse. True, 
 he had never yet laid violent hands on me ; but he had 
 applied the epithet which Othello puts upon Desdemona, 
 more times than the Moor ever did, and with just as much 
 propriety, as far as I can see; perhaps with less just 
 cause. 
 
 Alas ! all things work against me. I was not now 
 encouraged by the presence of my grandmother, who was 
 a restraint on him as well. She was confined to her bed 
 with rheumatism. The only solace I had, was to creep to 
 her bedside and pour out my lamentations. All my grief, 
 with every other vexatious care, was kept away from my 
 poor invalid mother. About this time, my husband 
 became furiously jealous of the young Walter. I had 
 been forbidden to speak or to reply to him, which I 
 obeyed to the letter. Then I was charged with keeping 
 up a telegraphic intercourse with our eyes ; and thus my 
 difficulties increased. I was not permitted to converse 
 with either of these gentlemen, notwithstanding I was 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 439 
 
 forced to appear in the parlor every evening, where 1 met 
 them and other company. 
 
 I was compelled to pass whole hours at the harp or 
 piano ; required to sing merry songs, to talk blithely 
 (which, by-the-by, I never succeeded in doing), while 
 those bloodshot eyes were fixed upon me like the most 
 dreadful nightmare. God help me ! I know not half my 
 time what I am doing. I scarce comprehend what is said 
 to me. A sense of utter wretchedness is the only abiding 
 feeling. 
 
440 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 w 
 
 CHAPTEE XL. 
 
 THE JOURNAL , PARADISE AND PURGATORY. 
 
 " Jealousy, that cloats but dooms, and murders, yet adores," 
 
 " I will be master of what is my own ; 
 She is my goods, my chattels, my household stuff." 
 
 I had passed such an evening as is described in the last 
 chapter, when, toward the close, Mr. Glencoe took his 
 seat on the sofa by my cousin, who had been sitting 
 silent, either absorbed in listening or thinking. " Mur- 
 ray, did you ever hear your cousin sing that last new 
 song? 7 ' calling it by name. 
 
 " I have not. I was not aware that she had learned it." 
 
 " Why, the little fairy ! she did not learn it, but played 
 it off as soon as I placed it before her. She does some 
 things intuitively. Anna, will you favor us with it, my 
 love?" 
 
 I walked to the piano, not suffering either Conrad or 
 Walter to lead me, lest they might perchance touch my 
 hand, and thereby give offense. They took their station 
 on either side of me, and before I had finished the second 
 verse, my husband left the room. I saw him go out, and 
 I felt an inexpressible relief in his absence, for I had got 
 to loathe him. 
 
 A reaction immediately took place. My spirits, which 
 had been spell-bound for such a length of time, now burst 
 forth, and my genial nature reveled in gladness. The in- 
 cubus was shaken off. Neither the dreaded father, nor the 
 jealous, despised husband were present. I was like a child 
 just let loose from school, in its gambols, or a bird from 
 
THE NIGHT WAT C II 
 
 441 
 
 its cage. I talked, and laughed, and sung, and played. My 
 voice once more became full and gushing, rich and melodi- 
 ous. I was urged to sing song after song. Walter and my 
 cousin Conrad stood by me, and seemed to enjoy my 
 recovered mirthfulness. They gaze at me fondly, with 
 that tender, protecting look which belongs to a mother 
 for an unfortunate child. O Grod ! it is well that there 
 is but one such season of bliss in a lifetime. Eut one ! 
 Were it not so, we should have no aspirations for heaven. 
 
 This delicious evening drew to a close. They are gone. 
 I am sitting alone on the same seat at the piano, enjoying 
 it all over in review. 
 
 u Come, go to your room, Miss Pet," said a kind bat 
 alarmed voice. I jumped up, threw my arms around the 
 neck of my nurse, and wept for happiness and gladness. 
 She led me away . 
 
 " Now, don't ondress yet. Have it all over with your 
 clothes on," said she. 
 
 " What, good nurse ? What do you mean ? Have what 
 over ? " 
 
 " Ah ! poor lamb ! You will know too soon, I fear ; " 
 and instead of removing my dress, she made me put on a 
 silk sack. I had worn an evening dress, and my arms 
 and neck were bare. 
 
 Some one is at the door, and the good creature slipped 
 from the room. My husband enters. He stands before 
 me with those bloodshot eyes, that ghastly face, and that 
 quivering upper lip. I meet him face to face, unblench- 
 ingly. I have done no wrong, I have injured no one ; 
 then why should I quail under any human eye ? He 
 approaches quite near, looks tauntingly at me, runs his 
 face into mine. I do not move, but look at him calmly. 
 
 " Out, wanton ! Base, lewd, unblushing ! Take 
 
 that — and that," giving me a furious slap on the face, 
 which sent me reeling to the opposite side of the room. 
 Ere I had recovered from my amazement, he had jerked 
 
442 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 me forth again, and blow after blow descended quickly 
 on my face, head, and chest. I was quite unable to shriek 
 out. He had stopped for the want of breath. 
 
 Just as his arm was raised to inflict another blow, a 
 powerful hand was laid on his shoulder. 
 
 " Stop, sir ; on your life don't strike ! What ! would 
 you strike your wife? your own flesh and bone? Ha! 
 blood ! what does this mean? Wretch ! coward ! rascal ! 
 what is the meaning of this ? " said Molly, who was, as I 
 have said, a powerful woman. She took him by the 
 shoulders and shook him fiercely; then, giving him a 
 violent push, he fell heavily with his head against the 
 fender. She stopped but an instant to look at him, 
 then exclaimed, in a sullen voice, " God forgive me ! I 
 didn't mean to kill him quite, but I have done it, anyhow, 
 and I can't help it." 
 
 She hurried me through the basement, again, into the 
 garden, thence to a grotto on the confines of the grounds, 
 and placing me in the arms of my cousin Conrad, pro- 
 ceeded to relate to him the preceding occurrences. 
 
 " Great God ! " cried he, " What a monster ! But, Molly, 
 you may have killed him." 
 
 " I 'spect I has, I'm 'fraid I has, but it can't be helped 
 now T ! " 
 
 " But you will be hanged ! good honest creature ! The 
 provocation and your motive will not shield you ; you 
 will be hanged." 
 
 " I knows that, as w r ell as you does, Mas'r Conrad. 
 You needn't keep telling me of it, 'thout you be trying 
 to git me use to it 'forehand. But thar's more sides 
 than one to every thing. How they gwine prove it on 
 me ? Tell me that clever over ? " 
 
 " If that man is dead, and we are found here, or it is 
 known that we have been here, every one of us will be 
 implicated in his murder." 
 
 " You better see to that child in your arms before she 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 443 
 
 bleeds to death. He cracked a blood vessel somewhere in 
 her face, and the blood spouted all over his haggard, 
 devilish-looking countenance. I wish you could ha' seen 
 him then." 
 
 " But, Molly, I fear, in your just indignation, you have 
 killed him." 
 
 " Don't care ! He would ha' killed that sweet flower," 
 said she. 
 
 u Oh ! nurse, I am sick, almost unto death ! Take me 
 hence, dear cousin ! I can never behold his face again ! I 
 will never enter that house any more ! I will die here, or 
 in the woods or floods." 
 
 " Then thar gwine to be two murders ! Don't say that, 
 darling Miss Pet; think of your poor, broken-hearted 
 mother ! " 
 
 " God bless my mother ! " cried I ; " I am ready to live 
 or die for her." 
 
 It was now decided that Molly should return to the 
 house and reconnoiter. We were alone. I was reclining 
 on that tender, manly breast ; I felt myself nestled like a 
 helpless child in that brave bosom. His lips were pressed 
 to mine. I drank in his warm, fragrant breath ; I forgot 
 my wrongs ; my wounds were no longer felt. I ceased 
 to hate the monster who was the instrument in procuring 
 me this moment of bliss. Molly was not long absent. 
 We were left alone but a short time in the grotto. But it 
 was surely a foretaste of the pure joys of the blessed. We 
 listened to the soothing ripple of the stream, as it so 
 peacefully glided by ; the sighing of the winds through 
 the tall trees ; the plaintive notes of the stock dove, 
 mourning perhaps some dead or faithless mate ; and we 
 drank in delicious draughts of odor, the pure breath of 
 flowers, wafted to us on the gentle, loving breeze. We 
 were soothed and refreshed, and tranquilized ; above all, 
 w T e were together. All else in this world was forgotten. 
 I felt that I would wish to exhale my soul out in love to 
 
444 THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 him, and gratitude to God. It was a holy hour, and my 
 feelings were holy. I was rapt away. 
 
 But alas ! all joy is fleeting ; I was dragged back to 
 this mundane sphere, by Molly exclaiming, "Bless God ! 
 I walk so fast, being something of a big nigger, that I'm 
 quite out of wind," and she threw herself down, and 
 panted, and puffed for some time, before we could get her 
 to speak. " No, bless God ! no such good luck ; he's live, 
 and live like to be ; I'm afraid. He got up his-self, and 
 washed his own face. I jest went boldly in, and when he 
 turned round and looked at me, I said, 'Now, aint you a 
 nice man for a husband? Shame! shame on you.' He 
 made up to me again. I drawed back, and made my fist 
 into a knot as hard as any iron, and said, ' John Glencoe, 
 I'm a nigger, and I reckon you can have me hung for salt 
 and battleing, but keep your hands offer me, else I'll 
 make sure work of it next time. You know I'm no 
 baby in strengt when I'm raised. You almost killed 
 your wife, and I tried to kill you for it.' 
 
 " He looked wildly at me, like he jist waked up, and said, 
 L Oh ! Molly, I'm very sorry ef I have done any one any 
 wrong. I did'nt know that I had hurt any body. I was 
 drunk ; have been for two days. I do love her so much, 
 and she will not love me ; all I can do, I can't get her 
 even to say she loves me ; no, not even to say it.' 
 
 " ' Because, that child bin taught to tell the truth only. 
 Do you 'spect to beat love into her with your fist ? Do 
 you? Tell me that?' 
 
 " 'Beat! What about beat? You dare not, you old devil, 
 insinuate that I ever struck my wife, that gentle, unof- 
 fending angel ! I surely have not been such a craven 
 dog as to strike a defenseless woman ? ' 
 
 " ' Come, that will do, sir. You can't come it over old 
 Molly Wise that away. You 'spose I didn't see you get up, 
 'cause my 1 little pet lamb ' went to sing a few love songs to 
 her cousin, and wring your teeth, and grit your hands, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 445 
 
 and turn chalky in the face, and come in the back parlor, 
 and set down thar, and watch 'em through the crack of 
 the folding doors ? You think I did'nt see you take that 
 riding whip, and place that sterletto in your bosom, or 
 whatever you call that dirk thar, jest because the poor 
 thing happened to sing a few love ' 
 
 " 'Yes, d her! she did sing and look love too. I'd 
 
 do it again ! I'd crush her to death, even while I am so 
 frantically in love with her. I believe I'll kill every one 
 of you ; ' and he seized me by the two arms and began to 
 shake me. But I shook him off, just like Saint Paul did 
 that venomous wild beast what come outen the fire that 
 time and fastened on his arm. 
 
 " Then laying hold of him, I holds him like as if he was 
 fastened up in a screw or a vice. I thought his upper lip 
 was gwine to jump off from the rest of his face ; while 
 
 his eyes blazed, and he say, ' You d d old devil you ! 
 
 Don't you know that I can have you put to death for this?' 
 
 " i Don't you know, you fierce little cock sparrow you ! that 
 I can fix you so, that thar will be nobody to tell the tale?' 
 
 " 'Come, Molly, unhand me. Where is your mistress?' 
 
 " 1 What you want to know that for ? You want to kill 
 her over agin ? ' 
 
 " 1 No ; I want to go down on my knees to her, and 'ask 
 her pardon.' 
 
 " i Yes ; and to-morrow night kill her over agin, if she 
 look at her cousin or Mas'r Walter. What you bring 'em 
 here for, if you that jealous-hearted, and can't help it? 
 I'll tell you now what you got to do. She is gwine to 
 sleep with her grandmother. So you jest go to bed and say 
 nothing about what's happened 'till I consult with Miss 
 Pet. If you don't, I'll go from one end o' this town to 
 tother, and 'spose you by breakfast to-morrow.' 
 
 "So I left him. I heard him say, as I came out, ' Oh ! 
 I was drunk. I wish I had died, before I acted the 
 fool so.' Then I heard him lock his door. And that's 
 
446 
 
 THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 all, and it's enough. So I left. And now, I think, it's 
 high time for that child to go home. Poor, beat, bruised 
 and battered up thing." 
 
 Another passionate embrace, and we separated. 
 
 My grandmother seemed very indignant, and wept; 
 while she bestowed execrations on all the Glencoes. She 
 also reiterated her determination to " stick by me," even 
 if the whole world deserted me. I fell asleep while she 
 was repeating those consoling assurances. I did not 
 leave my grandmother's room for a whole week. I 
 learned that my husband looked very grave, and kept 
 quite sober for the first few days ; then he fell into the 
 old way. He was now a confirmed inebriate. 
 
 Every day I received a note from my cousin. At first, 
 he wrote incoherently, and filled up the pages with mal- 
 edictions on my persecutors. Then he grew more rational, 
 and after two days commenced making proposals to me as 
 once before — said he would take me to England; but 
 always wound up by saying that my word was the law, 
 and should govern him in all things. 
 
 Then he proposed to me to elope with him; said our 
 happiness had been sacrificed to the selfish interest of 
 others, that they had used us for their own aggrandize- 
 ment ; thus blasting our young and beautiful lives. I still 
 declined. 
 
 Had I been left in quiet seclusion, with my grand- 
 mother, I should never have taken another step down- 
 ward. To-day, I am able to be up, and to dress myself. 
 A message from my father takes me to the parlor. He 
 demands to know why I have left my husband's room ? 
 Then he also applies opprobrious epithets to me ; accuses 
 me of cherishing a guilty passion for my cousin Conrad, 
 and ends by swearing that we should never meet again ; 
 avows his intention to send Molly away ; swears that I 
 should never see Conrad again, unless I would promise to 
 return to my husband, love him, and behave myself as a 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C II . 
 
 447 
 
 chaste, obedient wife should do. He opened the book, 
 and said, " See the sacred Word of God. Swear ! " I 
 turned my eyes mechanically to the page ; they fell on the 
 words, u Swear not at all." I pointed it out to my poor 
 violent, passionate father. An involuntary oath escaped 
 him. " Obstinate fool ! This is enough to break up our 
 compact. Weak, superstitious thing that you are about 
 that book ! " I rose to leave the room. u Sit down, 
 madam ; you leave me not until you have promised." 
 
 Nurse came to the door. " Miss Pet, your mother want 
 to see you one minit." 
 
 m will return, sir, anon," said I. 
 
 On our way, Molly said, " Now, honey, you jis go to 
 John Glencoe's room ; I reckon he won't 'noy you much 
 at first with his decait ; but go any how, and stay till tea 
 time, and do like you gwine make up with him ; then I'll 
 git you out the scrape to-night." 
 
 When I met my mother, she looked frightened out of 
 her wits. 
 
 " O child, for the love of heaven, go back to your 
 room ; I really believe they will murder us both." 
 
 " I am going, dear mamma. Do not let this distress 
 you." After talking a short time, I went back to my 
 father. 
 
 " I hope, madam, you are ready to return to the honest, 
 affectionate man who honors you with the title of wife." 
 " I am ready to obey you, sir." 
 
 " Then retire at once, and let me hear of no more 
 scenes." 
 
 I found Mr. Glencoe sitting there reading. He met me 
 at the door, took my hand, and did look very penitent, as 
 he said, u Anna, may I hope that I shall ever be forgiven ? 
 Can a lifetime of remorse purchase your pardon ? Will 
 such devotion, love, and service as were never dreamed 
 of by woman, or witnessed in man, at last win me a lit- 
 tle place in. your heart? " All this time we had stood, 
 
448 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 he still holding my hand. JSTow he attempted to draw me 
 to him. 
 
 I jerked away as if I had felt the sting of a viper. 
 " Sit there," said I, pointing to a chair at some distance 
 from me, and I seated myself opposite to him. 
 
 " Oh, I can't blame you. I have been worse than a 
 savage." 
 
 " Yes," said I, abstractedly, "yes, I know ; I can't get 
 over it all at once. My head is still very sore." 
 
 He threw himself down before me and clasped my 
 knees, caught my hands and kissed them like some half- 
 demented lover — implored me with frantic voice and man- 
 ner to receive him again into favor. 
 
 Oh, how I hated him ! Nay, despised him. My loath- 
 ing amounted to madness. I felt if I were compelled to 
 endure that man's embraces again, I should become a 
 maniac. Anything else ; the cloister, the grave, a strange 
 country, the north or south pole, anything but to be 
 pressed to the bosom of that petty tyrant, that puling 
 layer, that disgustingly uxorious husband, and jealous 
 monster. I said to him, "If you will give me time ; but 
 you must not force this thing upon me now. Time is 
 your best advocate in this miserable business." 
 
 A servant hands him a card. " My wife," said he, u a 
 few friends wish me to meet them at the club. Promise 
 me that I shall find you here when I return. Shall I, 
 dear wife ? " 
 
 " If you do not come too early. I am obliged to be 
 with my grandmother for several hours. At what time 
 will you be here ?" 
 
 " I fear not before one o'clock. Will that do?" 
 
 " Yes," said I, and he attempted to kiss my lips. Had 
 the rotary motion of the earth depended on it, had I 
 known that I should have been murdered on the spot, I 
 could not have prevented that shudder and recoil. 
 
 M Well," said he again, " I can not blame you." So he left. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 449 
 
 I met him again at tea, but he and my father both 
 seemed pre-occupied. Greatly to my relief, there was no 
 conversation. After supper, they rose to depart. My 
 husband came to me, and w T ith a sickening display of 
 fondness, kissed me on the forehead, and said, "I will be 
 the first to leave, my love." And they left together. 
 
 On going up stairs, I met Molly. She handed me a 
 note. 
 
 u Dear Marianna — Come to the grotto an hour from 
 this time. I shall be there. It is important to our mu- 
 tual safety that we meet without loss of time. The 
 evenings are cool, my love, therefore put on a thick dress, 
 lest you take cold. Molly will come with you. Fail not 
 to meet me. God bless you till then. C. C. M." 
 
 I passed into my mother's room. I felt a premonition 
 that I should embrace her to-night for the last time. I 
 kissed her over and over again ; I bathed her hands 
 with my tears ; I knelt by her bedside ; I invoked bless- 
 ings on her head. I was overwhelmed with grief. 
 
 " My poor, dear pet lamb, why are you so distressed ? 
 Do you then dislike him so much ? " said she, not divin- 
 ing the true cause. 
 
 " Oh yes, mamma, he abuses me." 
 
 Some one touched my shoulder. 
 
 " How ? " said my mother. 
 
 Another pressure. I looked up ; it was my nurse. I 
 knew what it meant. I got up, embraced her tenderly 
 again and again, and left the room. I never saw her 
 afterward. When I entered my room, I found Molly 
 there. She said if I were going to see my cousin Con- 
 rad, I had better put on the dress which she held in her 
 hand. It was a traveling habit. I was very passive, 
 objected to nothing. She attired me as she chose; then 
 throwing a mantle around me, tied on my bonnet. I 
 38 
 
450 
 
 T H E N I GH T \V A TO I J . 
 
 scarcely noticed these preparations at the time. Then we 
 passed from the house, as before. 
 
 A rapid walk of a few moments brought us to the place 
 of rendezvous. My cousin was already there. His man- 
 ner was very serious, nay solemn ; there was no rapture, 
 no caress; but taking me by the hand, said in a voice 
 equally impressive, " My love, will you consent to place 
 yourself under my protection? Can you trust me? And 
 are you willing to submit to my guidance? " 
 
 " O my cousin, for life and death ! I can not return 
 to the arms of that monster and live. I have left my 
 home forever ! " 
 
 " Then we will lose no time. Molly, give the signal." 
 A low whistle brought a carriage to the place. I was 
 penetrated with a tenfold love and gratitude on finding 
 that my nurse was to accompany me. How considerate, 
 how delicate was this attention. I could only press his 
 hand, and weepingly tell him so. We sped on, on. Pres- 
 ently we stopped, but only for a moment, until fresh 
 horses were brought. Then onward again. 
 
 About midnight, we arrived at a depot, but learned that 
 the cars had been thrown from the track, and we could 
 not proceed for several hours. This was a serious annoy- 
 ance to my cousin, but there was no help. Therefore we 
 would rest during this interval in the little inn parlor. 
 
 It was a still, peaceful hour. The moon shone gently 
 into the room. The little piece of tallow candle allotted 
 to us by our penurious landlord had long since burned 
 out ; but that stream of calm, beautiful light from heaven, 
 that moonbeam, revealed every object distinctly to view. 
 I was sleeping, at least I was reposing, I know not 
 whether I was really wrapped in slumber, but I know 
 that I Avas oblivious of all care, anxiety, and fear. 
 
 Suddenly, there was a commotion in the house, a tramp- 
 ling of feet in the hall, and suppressed voices. The land- 
 lord, holding a candle, entered, followed by live or six 
 
T H E NIGH T W A TC U . 
 
 451 
 
 men. I looked up and saw my father and my husband. 
 The others were coarse, ruffianly-looking men, whom I 
 had never seen. 
 
 My cousin had sprung to his feet, on this unceremo- 
 nious intrusion on the privacy of travelers. In an instant 
 I saw him close with two men. A fierce struggle ensued. 
 My husband goes up, and aims a blow with his open 
 palm on his face, saying, ' ; Dastard ! Caitiff! Craven 
 churl ! " Conrad tore himself from the grasp of three 
 stout men, and felled my husband to the earth. In a 
 second, another ruffian had measured his length, then the 
 remaining three closed with him. In a short time I heard 
 the report of a pistol, and then I thought I saw my cou- 
 sin fall. I closed my eyes. 
 
 "Unmanly, cowardly varlets, unhand him!" cried a 
 Stentor-like voice. u How ! three men to hold and bind 
 one gentleman ? Unhand him, I say, or by the eternal 
 world ! your brains shall stain these boards. This revol- 
 ver carries six missives of death. Refuse to set him free, 
 and I will pull this trigger, and this, and this, which each 
 time will send to hell a poltroon, more low and base than 
 any there. Ha ! ropes ! Aye ! they were spun for you — 
 for such dogs as ye are, and not for him. Do you hear 
 me? cut these thongs." 
 
 He held the terrible instrument of death aloft, and is 
 aiming at the head of one of these wretched excuses for 
 men. He is in the act of firing, when Molly and the 
 carriage-driver rush into the room with sticks, tongs, 
 poker, etc. She called out, " Don't, dont shoot ! Mas'r 
 Walter Jocelyn, don't shoot ! Bless God ! there is 
 trouble enough in the world a'ready, 'thout killing 'em 
 quite ! " 
 
 By this time they had released Conrad. My father has 
 hold of me. I open my eyes — God help me! My hus- 
 band has gotten up. Another pistol is fired. I hear a 
 suppressed groan. I hear, see, feel, no more 
 
452 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 When I recovered from my swoon, I found myself lying 
 on a little lounge, in a low, gloomy room. I am quite 
 alone. There is not one familiar object on which my 
 eye falls. The impulse is to shriek out for help, for I 
 am almost dying of thirst. 
 
 Presently my father enters with refreshments, water, 
 ice-lemonade, etc. After I have drunk, he sits down by 
 me, and takes my hand. " Marianna, wretched, wretched 
 child ! with all your soul-destroying sins, I am sorry for 
 you ! But you have entailed disgrace on yourself and 
 family forever. You have sinned, I fear, beyond redemp- 
 tion ! Ton need never pray more ! I will send father 
 Anselmo to you. Then unburden your crime-stained 
 conscience to him, and ask his intercession with the 
 mother of Christ, for the remission of your sins." 
 
 " Hold ! sir. You do surely rave. You know not 
 what you say. It was not thus the immaculate Jesus 
 talked to sinners. He did not employ such language 
 even to the woman who was brought to him in the 
 Temple." 
 
 " Hardened wanton ! There is nothing on record in 
 that Xew Testament, of any such crime as yours. Poor 
 wretch ! " 
 
 " Then, what is it, sir? With what do you charge me 
 that you do not yourself do almost daily?" 
 
 "Miserable creature! Then are you so steeped in sin? 
 From your cradle, your propensities have run in that 
 same channel. I have warned you — I have separated 
 you — I have watched you night and day — done all that 
 a mortal man could do to save you from this ghastly 
 crime." 
 
 " My father ! !STow I know that you are mad ! Think 
 of your own dalliance — your long-standing intrigue with 
 Mrs. Murray, to the total neglect of my weak, unoffend- 
 ing mother. You know I have committed no such 
 crime." 
 
THE NIGHT W ATC H . 
 
 453 
 
 " O God ! this is too dreadful ; I must not listen to 
 her," said he, covering his face with his hands, and seem- 
 ing to weep. 
 
 "What is it then, sir? what is it you think I have 
 done ? tell me at once, torture me no longer with sus- 
 pense." 
 
 " Know, then, wretched, lost girl, that you have the 
 crime of incest on your soul." 
 
 I sprang to my feet. " How? how is this?" shrieked 
 I ; " by heavens ! I will not hear my chaste and innocent 
 mother slandered. It is false ! false as hell ! where only 
 such a horrible idea could have originated. I am your 
 daughter, sir. Would to Clod! I were not." 
 
 " Yes, you are my daughter, Marianna Glencoe. You 
 are indeed my daughter, and I echo your own words- 
 would to God! you were not!" Then he passed his 
 hand over his face, and looking at me fixedly, with a 
 mournful, despairing look, said, "And HE is my SON f 
 Thus you have the dreadful sin of incest on your soul." 
 
 I fell with my face on the floor (which was of brick), 
 and the blood gushed from my nose and mouth. He 
 attempted to raise me. I shrieked out, and recoiled 
 from his touch. As often as he approached me, I uttered 
 piercing screams, and signed him away. I prayed now 
 for insanity. I implored God to send his thunderbolts 
 and destroy me ; and if not so, then to destroy my mem- 
 ory. I know not who comes or goes. I hear a sound as 
 of the opening and shutting of doors. I do not look uj). 
 I am on my knees, with my head bowed to the earth, my 
 forehead resting on the bare bricks. 
 
 Father Anselmo comes in. He speaks soothingly to 
 me. He does not chide or abuse. He bids me look up 
 and hope. I cry out, "I can not! I dare not! my father 
 says I have committed an unpardonable sin ! " 
 
 " 'Not so, my child ; you can repent. Confess, and then 
 repent." 
 
454 
 
 T H E N 1 ( I H T W A T C H 
 
 " Too late! too late! I am lost! lost! lost! 
 
 But, father, I was tempted beyond human strength, 
 unaided, to resist. I was goaded on by wrongs, railings, 
 false accusations, and at last, violence. I have received 
 many indignities, and even blows. I have been driven 
 from one step to another, from one fault to another, with- 
 out any solace ; and getting to loathe the author of these 
 troubles, I, at last, took refuge in that manly bosom. O 
 father, if you but knew him, as I do ! So noble, so exalted, 
 so handsome, and " 
 
 " Hush, daughter ! breathe not another word in that 
 strain. I came here to meet you at the confessional, and 
 to make what intercession I can with God ! through our 
 Mother and her blessed Son." 
 
 Then I knelt before that holy father, that man of God ; 
 I confessed my sins of omission, and commission ; I laid 
 bare my most secret thoughts to the scrutiny of his dis- 
 cerning mind. I threw open the portals of my heart. 
 He is made acquainted with every thought, desire, and 
 emotion which had actuated me throughout. 
 
 When I had finished, he shook his head, and I shrieked 
 out, rising from my knees, " Do you, too, say, knowing 
 all, that I'm lost ? " 
 
 " Far from it ! Poor dove ! the hawks have pursued 
 and driven thee into the only shelter open to thy weary 
 stricken wing. It was thy refuge ; God takes cognizance 
 of the necessities of his children." 
 
 I fell again on my knees, seized his hands, and repeated 
 with great enthusiasm, "And He will bless thee! thou 
 gentle vicegerent of the meek and lowly child Jesus." 
 
 We heard distinctly a low cough, and, in an instant, 
 Father Anselmo's manner changed. He did not look 
 alarmed, but disconcerted. 
 
 " Daughter, the blood of Christ cleanseth from every 
 sin. But you must do penance." 
 
 " Impose it. father ; I am ready for all things, even death." 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 455 
 
 " We do not arrogate to ourselves the right either to give 
 or take life. We impose a penance on the body to save 
 the soul, but we wish to preserve it alive." 
 
 " Go on, father," said I, still on my knees. " I am wait- 
 ing to hear my doom." 
 
 " Well, daughter, we wish you to go through the most 
 solemn adjuration (my father enters at this moment) that 
 you will never look upon, or permit him to look upon 
 your face ; that you will not speak to, write, or receive 
 letters from, or in any way hold intercourse and com- 
 munication with your BEOTHEE." 
 
 At that word, I uttered a piercing cry, and fell with 
 my face again on the bricks. After a while, he raised 
 my head very gently, and then went on : " You will return 
 to your husband. You will, hy every dutiful attention 
 and humble obedience, make atonement for this false step. 
 Will you swear to perform these duties, kissing the Holy 
 Bible?" 
 
 "No, no! a thousand times no !" said I, springing to 
 my feet. " I will never again live with John Glencoe as 
 his wife. I will not do such violence to all honesty and 
 truth. I will not again be tempted to desecrate sacred 
 things. I will not outrage my own nature so much. 
 Never can I be convinced that it is my duty to maintain 
 a relation with any man or woman, the existence of which 
 makes me a loathing to myself — so fills me with cold 
 despair, that I can not even pray to God — so takes away 
 all self-respect, that I am fain to cower in the presence 
 of my more fortunate sisters, as a thing defiled, and to 
 cry like the leper, 4 Unclean ! unclean V " He com- 
 menced a remonstrance. 
 
 " Stop ! " said I, " this is needless ; I can not be turned." 
 
 " She says truly," added my father. u That is impossi- 
 ble ; I know it to my sorrow. You may break her spirit, 
 but you can never bend her will. Administer the first 
 part of the adjuration." 
 
456 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 This was now done, with a great show of solemnity. I 
 was then made to kiss the sacred volume, and to put my 
 name to the instrument of writing. He (the priest) went 
 through a form of prayer, and I was left alone. I got up 
 from my knees, and commenced pacing round and round 
 the room. I caught myself saying, " Brother ! Dear 
 brother ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Come ! we '11 travel on. Aye ! 
 Yes, so merrily round and round." Then the feeling came 
 on me to flee away — I wanted space — I wanted air — I 
 wanted to shout ; and I did cry out, " Brother ! brother ! " 
 Then the room swam round and round. 
 
THE NIGH T WATCH. 
 
 457 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE JOURNAL — THE MANIAC MOTHER. 
 
 44 She looked on many a face with vacant eye, 
 On many a token without knowing why." 
 
 44 Then fresh tears stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew 
 Upon the gathered lily almost withered/ 7 
 
 "Nurse," said the doctor, "raise her head, and let us 
 pour down a little of this gruel. Poor thing! would that 
 I could relieve her. Would that one raj of reason would 
 beam from those gentle, plaintive, deep, dark-blue eyes. 
 I sometimes think she understands me." Then, agreeable 
 to the long-established custom of the place, I call in Dr. 
 Severe, and the poor creature hides her face and becomes 
 so terrified and shrieks out so fearfully, that I believe what 
 little dawming of light there might be, is scared away. 
 After that, she sinks into the same lethargic state." 
 
 " No wonder," says the woman. " Poor dove ! how can 
 she help it, when he is so cross? Then Dr. Stern and 
 old Mrs. Hardheart — the three are enough to squeeze or 
 scare the soul out of anybody's body, with their strait- 
 jacket and sour looks." 
 
 " Is the poor bird asleep now ? " said the humane doctor. 
 
 "Yes, I think so. Myra ! Myra ! " I would not open 
 my eyes, because I wanted to hear more. I had only 
 heard enough to mystify me. The woman continued : 
 
 " It is strange that we have never heard from the 
 old man since he brought her here. What a bad coun- 
 tenance he had ; that old Jew ! How he grinned and 
 smirked around the poor demented creature ! He looked 
 better sometimes ; and I thought a gleam of pity was 
 39 
 
458 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 about to break out on that old wrinkled-up, parchment 
 face ; then that hideous leer and libidinous grin would 
 supersede every other human expression." 
 
 " Strange that none ever came to inquire about her," 
 said the woman. 
 
 • " Martha, don't you think she is very beautiful ?" 
 
 " Yes, if she had any sense, and a little bit of light in 
 her eyes." 
 
 " I think, without doubt, she is the most beautiful 
 woman I ever beheld. Her features are faultless; but, 
 as you say, she lacks the soul peeping from the windows 
 of that perfect piece of workmanship," he rejoined. 
 
 " Do they still send the remittance, by which softening 
 influence the horrors of this purgatory are somewhat 
 mitigated?" 
 
 " Punctually, up to last quarter. They are in arrears 
 for that." 
 
 "Then God help the poor soul, say I. How long has 
 she been here ?" 
 
 " Two years and a half. Nay, more ; in three months 
 it will have been three years since she came. The child 
 will be" 
 
 I started up wildly, and so suddenly that they were 
 alarmed. u "What ! What do I hear? Then it was not all 
 a dream?" 
 
 I would have gone on to say much more, but the phy- 
 sician of whom they had spoken entered at that moment. 
 He came up to the bedside, and scowling on me from 
 under those dark, shaggy brows, said in a sort of growl, 
 "What's all this? What's this uproar about?" I gave 
 him one startled, timid look, and began to shriek at the 
 top of my voice. He grew angry. He was (as I after- 
 ward learned) morbidly sensitive about his personal 
 appearance. To me he was hideously ugly. In my poor 
 benighted mind I associated him with my own sorrows ; 
 and with crime, treachery, and despotism generally. The 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 459 
 
 mere sight of him, as the good Doctor Goodwin had said, 
 never failed to put out every glimmer of dawning light 
 in my mind. This time I retained some of my faculties, 
 and heard him say in the same low voice, between a hiss 
 and a growl, u I wish I w T ere rid of her. I'm heartily 
 tired of such scenes. I wonder why an all-wise Provi- 
 dence suffers such a poor, troublesome thing to live. John 
 you must exercise more rigor. I always notice, when you 
 and Martha have charge of this ward, that you spoil her 
 by indulgence. Then when I come in, and look at her 
 only, she yells out in that way — just like a trifling house- 
 dog, whose tail has been trodden on. To-morrow you 
 must exchange w^ith Doctor Stern, and old Mrs. Hard- 
 heart. They will bring her to her good behavior. In 
 the meantime put on the strait-jacket ; and let her regi- 
 men be a crust and a glass of water a day. I shall call at 
 eight o'clock to-night, to see that you have properly 
 obeyed my instructions." 
 
 " But, sir," said the young man, " if when you come she 
 meets that piercing glance with which you are enabled to 
 quell the maniacs, will you not then relax your treat- 
 ment?" 
 
 K Oh, of course. For forty years, I have ruled the 
 subjects of a lunatic asylum by a glance of my eye, and 
 in no instance did I ever fail to silence yelling save in 
 this one. Hers commences where theirs ends." He gave 
 some other directions to the subordinates, and then left. 
 
 I lay with my eyes shut, still and silent as if I were 
 dead ; this state always succeeded to the excited one. 
 The young man now sat down by me, felt my pulse, and 
 laid his hand on my heart. 
 
 " Martha, have you ever known this poor lady to 
 weep ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; never. I have sometimes thought she looked 
 pitiful-like when I would steal in here between times to 
 bathe her head and loosen that jacket, as if she wanted 
 
460 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 to cry, only her eyes were so dry they wouldn't furnish 
 tears. Oh ! I had forgotten ! That invention of the 
 fiends must be used. I dread to do it ; I would rather be 
 put into it myself than again to bind it on those slender, 
 polished limbs. But I must obey old Merciless, else 
 would he have us whisked out of our places in no time." 
 
 Then they crept quietly from the room. I was left 
 alone, and I could now think a little. I could recall some 
 events ; but I could yet understand nothing beyond that 
 I was in a madhouse. All else seemed dim and shadowy. 
 I remembered nothing clearly. I had a vivid impression 
 of an accumulation of horrors. My sore, tired limbs 
 could attest to cruelty of treatment. My bloodless, atten- 
 uated hands and arms revealed a tale of hard usage, 
 meager fare, and sickness. 
 
 I lay there and thought. I tried so hard to comprehend, 
 while I explored the darkened chambers of memory ; but 
 alas ! its stores were locked up. They spoke of a child ! 
 Wl'iat was it? I felt a thrill of strange and mingled emo- 
 tions, new to me. Ah ! yes, new, or if not new, then so 
 long ago felt, that I have forgotten what they are. Is it 
 delight I feel ? Is it gladness ? O my G-od ! what is it ? 
 My heart beats so quickly and loudly that I think one 
 without the door might hear it. Child ! did they say? I 
 remember something about a little, soft wail, a tiny voice. 
 O my Father in heaven! Now it is going; I feel my 
 mind receding ; I know it ! I know it ! I lay a long time 
 quite still, struggling with recollection. I felt weary and 
 sleepy, but I feared to close my eyes, lest oblivion should 
 come over me, and I should never be able again to call 
 up that tiny, shadowy face, and that low, breeze-like, 
 wailing voice. 
 
 The key grates harshly in the door ; I look up and see 
 the humane Doctor Goodwin, and meet the compassion- 
 ate eye of the good Martha. 
 
 I sat up in my bed and said, £C Come here, and tell me 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 461 
 
 all about it. Now don't cross me, or say a word that will 
 be hard to understand." I saw them exchange pleased 
 looks of surprise. " In the first place, can you keep that 
 dreadful old man away? If he comes back, it will all be 
 put out again, like a candle blown upon by the breath. 
 Then I know not that your gentle voice and kind hand 
 can relume the spark." 
 
 "Dear lady," said he, "I am so delighted to hear you 
 talk thus, that I can scarce refrain from shouting for joy." 
 And the tender-hearted young man took out his hand- 
 kerchief and wiped his eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! " said I, " tears ! tears ! Would that I could weep 
 too. As dew is to the withered flower, so are tears to 
 the parched and dried heart. I used to weep a great 
 deal, shed many tears ; but they w 7 ere forced back to their 
 fountain, where they congealed, and now they are consol- 
 idated, and have formed a wall round about my heart, 
 which is stone. Yes indeed, my heart, this heart which 
 was so tender and loving, and so easily moved, is now all 
 marble." 
 
 "Can you not tell us of the things which used to make 
 you weep ? " 
 
 " Ah no ! there is no feeling or memory left. All has 
 been crushed out; that horrible engine of torture which 
 you hold in your hand (and a sharp shudder passed 
 through my frame), has left nothing." 
 
 " We will never use this again," said he, throwing it 
 across the room. " Come, tell us of your joys and sor- 
 rows, before you came here." 
 
 "Before I came here? Have I not been here always? 
 Is not my being here coeval with time? " 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, sorrowfully, u she wanders again. I 
 am so disappointed." 
 
 I lay for some time quite still. Then I passed my 
 hands over my face. " I am not so wrong here as you 
 
462 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 think," said I, touching my forehead. " But my memory 
 is so bad. That's all." 
 
 "Well, Martha, I believe there is a great deal of truth 
 
 in that." 
 
 He then proceeded to ask me several numbers in the 
 multiplication table. He propounded some other simple 
 questions in mental arithmetic. Finally, he gave me a 
 book, which I read without effort. He then asked me 
 the subject of what I had read. I did not know. He 
 looked distressed. Seeing this, I told him I had not been 
 thinking of it, else I would have known. But when he 
 would have proposed another page, I pushed the volume 
 away, saying, " You want me to do too much at first. 
 You see I am now like a little child." And I closed my 
 eyes. 
 
 They seemed to think I slept, for they commenced talk- 
 ing without reserve. " I thought, Martha," said the doc- 
 tor, " that we w r ere about to be rewarded for our long and 
 weary vigils ; but now I fear there is no hope of a perma- 
 nent restoration. Her intellect became clouded again. s I 
 saw it while she spoke." 
 
 " I think you are mistaken," said Martha. " I think she 
 wearied, and her memory refused to aid her, and this 
 caused perplexity. If we could only get her to weep, 
 then all would come right." 
 
 I opened my eyes, and in an instant he darted a keen 
 and searching glance into them. I smiled, and asked, 
 " Can you read it? Can you read the one idea which per- 
 vades my poor benighted mind? " 
 
 " No ; what is it ? I see there is something new, because 
 you smile. I have never seen such a soft, bland, genial 
 smile in this house before." 
 
 I raised myself, and placing my head on my hand, said, 
 " You wish me to w 7 eep. I heard you say so. Well, I 
 could have wept an hour ago : I could weep now, would 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 463 
 
 you but tell me " and I caught his hand and pressed 
 
 it with energy. 
 
 " Be composed j just quiet yourself, dear lady, and I 
 will tell you everything on God's earth you may choose 
 to ask me." Martha now gave me something mixed in a 
 glass, which helped to quiet me, and I proceeded. 
 
 " I heard you speak of a little child, a babe, and I have 
 some vague idea of the presence of one at some time or 
 other. Tell me about it. Do not fear that it will excite 
 me. It is the struggle to recollect, and the hard, unyield- 
 ing memory which distracts me. If you can save me 
 this conflict, I shall soon recover health, both of body and 
 mind." 
 
 ki Well, lie down quietly, and we will answer your ques- 
 tions. ISTow commence." 
 
 " Of what child did you speak? Tell me this, first of 
 all." 
 
 "Now, you are springing up again," said the doctor. 
 
 " It is your child," rejoined Martha, no longer able to 
 keep silence, while the doctor held me down with a gentle 
 force. k£ It is your own dear little boy, and the beauti- 
 fulest little cretur that ever your eyes ever rested upon, 
 I know." 
 
 "Mine? My child? Oh yes! I remember. Go on," 
 cried I. 
 
 " He is over two years old now, and " 
 
 " Where is he? Oh ! I thought so. This pining — this 
 
 inappeasable yearning of my soul — I thought there was 
 
 a cause for it. Shall I ever see him? Why is he not left 
 
 with his mother? " 
 
 H Oh you were sick, and we thought it better to put 
 
 him out to nurse. We were afraid you would kill him." 
 
 I saw Dr. Goodwin look quickly up at her. " We were 
 
 afraid you would love him to death, and kill him with 
 
 kindness." 
 
464 
 
 T HE NIGH T W A T C H . 
 
 u But I will not be so bad, now. Just let me see him, 
 dear good friends ! " said I. 
 
 " Yes, if, when Dr. Severe comes you w^ill not hide your 
 face, and shriek out as if you saw old Sooty, and beheld 
 his cloven foot. You excite his ire by doing this." 
 
 " When will he come again ? 
 
 " Immediately ; I think as soon as T inform him of 
 your improved condition, he will come in to see if I have 
 reported truly." 
 
 They then went out, and I closed my eyes, that I could 
 the better enjoy the beautiful day dream of a bright little 
 boy, two years old, or more. I did not observe that they 
 had returned to the cell, until that coarse, growling voice 
 sounded ; then I started ivp, opened my eyes, and a sharp 
 shudder passed through my frame, but I did not scream 
 out. I subdued this impulse, and now I could look at 
 him, and reply to his questions, without evidencing hor- 
 ror. He called me by a strange name. 
 
 " Mrs. Wise, how do you feel, now ? " and he also darted 
 his keen glances into my eyes. 
 
 I did not quail this time, but met the look calmly. 
 Then taking his hand, I said : " I fear, doctor, I am, and 
 have been, for a long time, very troublesome. I hope 
 you will forgive me. I am grateful for whatever kind- 
 ness you have shown me." 
 
 " Oh, don't mention it, madam ; " and he fidgeted about 
 in his chair. He then, again, peered keenly into my 
 eyes, as he continued to speak. " Now, would you like 
 to have something good and nice to eat? " 
 
 I was about to decline, but receiving the sign from 
 Dr. Goodwin, I said, " Yes." 
 
 The old doctor gave a low, chuckling sort of laugh, as 
 he added, 
 
 " Well ! this is the only sensible word I have ever heard 
 her utter. In three whole years she has never spoken to 
 
T U E N J Q H T W A T C H 
 
 465 
 
 the point before. John order whatever she fancies, and put 
 away that thing there," pointing to the strait-jacket. u We 
 will have no further use for it in this cell," and he left. 
 
 " You have played your part admirably," said the 
 humane doctor. u As soon as you have eaten, I will 
 bring the little Clarence." 
 
 In a short time, a nice broiled bird, a biscuit, and a 
 glass of wine were placed before me ; then they went to 
 bring my child. I thought of getting up and making an 
 elaborate toilet to receive the little stranger; but on look- 
 ing round, I saw nothing but the blank walls, the cot I lay 
 on, and a shower-bath — not so much as a piece of looking- 
 glass as big as my hand. I had no wardrobe. I wore a 
 coarse calico blouse. When I put my hand to my head, I 
 learned, for the first time, that my fine suit of hair had 
 been shorn off. I had no idea of my present appearance ; 
 no recollection of my former ; had not seen my face for 
 years. 
 
 I hear footsteps in the corridor, and a sweet bird- 
 like voice. I hear it caroling so sweetly. The door opens, 
 I spring to meet my child with a glad shout. I seize him, 
 but O God! he turns away from his mother, and hides 
 his darling little face on Martha's shoulder. I cry out, 
 in anguish, " My Father in heaven ! this is more than 
 I can bear ! He turns away loathingly from me, his 
 own mother ! " 
 
 " My good woman, you have frightened him, that's all," 
 said Martha. u He'll look up directly, and come to you." 
 
 I drop down on my bed. The Doctor takes the child 
 and walks across the room several times, talking sooth- 
 ingly to him ; then sits down by me, and says, " ISTow, 
 Clarence, go to mamma." 
 
 The bright, glorious creature, looks up. I hold out my 
 hands timidly ; he meets them with his own tiny fingers; 
 then bounds into my arms. I fold him to my breast, I 
 cover his face with kisses; he places his little hands on 
 
466 THE NIGHT WATCH . 
 
 my cheeks, and looks, baby as he is, inquiringly into my 
 eyes, and then puts his head down lovingly on my neck ; 
 I feel as if my pent-up feelings, my full soul, would kill 
 me, that I should die of excessive happiness. But with 
 this feeling, I experienced the intensest pain. So great 
 was the tension, that one more strain, and the chord of 
 life had snapped. 
 
 But God put one word into the mouth of that child — 
 the first one his sweet lips had ever lisped — and it saved 
 me. " Mamma," said the cherub, laying his little cheek 
 to mine. 
 
 Then I burst into tears. Oh ! how refreshing, how 
 revivifying, were those drops ! delicious tears ! exquisite 
 emotions ! I wept long. I pressed the child to my 
 withered heart, and I could feel verdure spring up under 
 it. Those tears — the renovation of hope — with that life- 
 giving little form, had wrought a miracle. With that 
 moment my present existence commenced, my mind 
 began to expand and receive impressions, to conceive and 
 mature ideas. Memory a little more obdurate ; was now, 
 too, unfolding her portals. My nerves were newly strung. 
 In fact, my whole system, mental and corporeal, was 
 undergoing, and subject to, a marvelous sanatory influ- 
 ence. 
 
 Then I had the child with me all the time, only when 
 the kind-hearted Martha would take him out for exer- 
 cise : still my condition — now that I had the power to see 
 the naked realities — was most dismal. I occupied the 
 same cell, without furniture or clothes, save the coarse 
 change allotted to the indigent inmates. But finding me 
 so much improved, the superintendent is soon induced to 
 listen to the suggestions of my friend, Doctor Goodwin, 
 and my condition is ameliorated ; I have better clothes, a 
 few articles of furniture, and some conveniences. I am 
 allowed to exchange the maniac's cell for a room larger, 
 and better ventilated ; I am also permitted to accompany 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 467 
 
 Martha and the child in their walks. My health is 
 restored. God, doubtless, for his own wise purposes, and 
 I hope, for his own glory, has given me back my faculties. 
 My memory has at last been aroused from its long sleep. 
 I am capable of reasoning, comparing, and recalling. 
 I remember events of childhood, girlhood, womanhood. 
 Have a vivid remembrance of joys and griefs. But I can 
 call up nothing from the chaotic, vasty deep of memory, 
 since the fearful scene in that low, gloomy room, with my 
 father and the priest, father Anselmo. 
 
 One day, when I was wandering through the grove 
 with the little Clarence (he had been named by Doctor 
 Goodwin after himself ; and from regard to him, and in 
 honor to his virtues, I let the name remain ; I wished to 
 have called him Conrad, but I forbore to speak), we were 
 joined by this gentleman. After the usual salutations 
 were over, I asked him if he had the privilege of answer- 
 ing me a few questions, on one or two subjects which 
 were consuming me. He assented. I then inquired if 
 they had not been informed of my real name and family 
 by the person w T ho brought me there. He said not; and 
 went on to state, that I came in a close, private car- 
 riage, with a mean, cringing-looking old man, and a little 
 negro girl, with very straight hair (remarkable circum- 
 stance for an African) ; that I was at the time of my 
 arrival, quite deranged — a raving maniac. There had 
 been a sum of money placed in the hands of the keeper, 
 which had long since been expended ; but from time to 
 time, there were other remittances from unknown sources; 
 
 Then I told him my history, from my cradle up, only 
 suppressing some of the most painful facts. When I had 
 finished, he seemed again to doubt my sanity — deeming 
 the fearful story to be more like the distempered ebulli- 
 tions of the lunatic than aught else. However, he was 
 too good-hearted to report me on the sick-list again. 
 
 Time drags on slowly in this emporium of misery. My 
 
468 
 
 THE NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 child is now four years old. Since my recovery I have 
 written a great many letters to my mother, father, young 
 Walter, my grandmother, and even to my nurse (negro 
 as she is). I received no replies. I never did write to 
 my husband; I never thought of doing so. I felt, to be 
 one moment in his presence would drive me mad again. 
 I would have preferred any fate — a pauper's, an exile's, to 
 be sold into slavery even, anything — to being claimed as 
 his wife. I would have fled and perished in the woods, 
 rather than have looked on his face fifteen minutes, much 
 less endure for years that daily death. 
 
 At last Doctor Goodwin received a letter, enclosing a 
 large sum of money for my use. The author begs to be 
 informed of the exact condition of my health. Her sig- 
 nature is simply Leah. She wished to be addressed by 
 that name only, and the letter directed to the care of one 
 Murdoch. 
 
 When he handed me this document he gave me the 
 money also. "You can take charge of your own funds, 
 Mrs. Wise. I pronounce you to be, in all things, capable 
 of thinking and acting for yourself. I would advise you, 
 though, to take rooms in the 1 Boarding-House 1 apper- 
 taining to the Asylum, and draw around you such com- 
 forts as money can always procure. I do not think, that 
 I would let the child come into the Hospital. His mind 
 might become tinctured with the gloomy horrors which 
 pervade the place." 
 
 I took his advice. Selected two large rooms and fur- 
 nished them handsomely, nay, magnificently. Then 
 bought genteel mourning clothes for myself; and was 
 guilty of the vanity of dressing my child richly. I pro- 
 cured the finest and most costly material, and had it made 
 up in a tasteful, elegant style. Long before that sum of 
 money was exhausted, another supply came from the 
 same source. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 469 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE JOURNAL. OLD FRIENDS AND FOES. 
 
 " I had so fixed my heart upon her, 
 That wheresoe'er I framed a scheme of life 
 For time to come, she was my only joy." 
 
 Five years and more have now passed away. I say 
 five, because I date everything from the birth of my child. 
 He is exquisitely beautiful, and so much like him; but I 
 must not think of this. God pity me ! One day I sat 
 dreaming over a book, as I watched the mirthful gambols 
 of my boy. 
 
 The servant entered, and said there was an old lady 
 and a young gentleman below, wishing to see me. I rang 
 for my own servant, and giving the child into her charge, 
 with a heart palpitating with fear and curiosity, ran 
 down. Imagine my joy and astonishment to meet my 
 good Walter and my own dear old grandmother. 
 
 Let me not attempt a description of the scene which 
 ensued, or of my feelings. I took them up to my rooms, 
 and after we had gazed at each other in speechless rap- 
 ture, and had indulged ourselves in as many incoherent 
 exclamations of love, joy, surprise, and indignation as 
 was needful, my grandmother, who possessed great prac- 
 ticality, suggested the necessity of rest and refreshment ; 
 after which, I learned the following facts : I found that 
 they had never known of my whereabouts, in fact, of my 
 existence, until three days before. My father, my poor, 
 misguided father, was dead. On his deathbed he revealed 
 to Doctor Walter Jocelyn, then his partner, the secret of 
 my existence, and my cruel incarceration. He stated that 
 these facts were known only to himself and the old Jew 
 
470 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 who had carried me off. That everybody thought me dead. 
 
 When Walter expressed his amazement in such strong 
 terms as, "Why, sir, how can this be? We saw her bier 
 by the side of her mother's ; saw them lowered into the 
 same grave. Then their obituaries went forth to the 
 world together. The same proud monument consecrates 
 the memory of both mother and child; " then the dying 
 man wrung his hands and cried out : 
 
 " Oh yes ; O God ! But why dwell on it with such tor- 
 turing emphasis and minuteness? I would give my right 
 arm, my right eye, nay both, and go forth to the darkened 
 world maimed and hideous, with the prospect of being 
 then cursed with long life, if I had not connived at that 
 diabolical plot, that awful crime. I have been a dupe, 
 Walter. For years I have been a machine in the hands 
 of a woman, who is at the same time the very worst and 
 greatest, as well as the most seductive and wicked crea- 
 ture that ever came from the hands of a pure and holy 
 Creator. She is the subtlest schemer, the deepest plotter, 
 the most alluring and selfish of women. I have suffered 
 myself, dotard as I was, to be ruled like a child, or an imbe- 
 cile man. She drew me on sometimes by blandishments ; 
 at other times, goaded me to desperation by threats of ban- 
 ishment from her presence. My infatuation then was so 
 great that I could not exist long away from her. In this 
 way she impelled me on to the commission of those awful, 
 hell-deserving crimes toward my own child. It was to pur- 
 chase permission to see her whenever I pleased, that I 
 consented to my daughter's being buried alive in a mad 
 house. And afterward, that fraud was practiced upon the 
 public, that mock funeral. 
 
 u It occurred in this way, Jocelyn ; I wish you to mark 
 my words," said my father. 11 Mrs. Murray had employed 
 a miserable old Jew to poison this girl, so as to have her 
 forever out of the way of her son. Well, this old fiend 
 was ready for every crime for the sake of compensation, 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 471 
 
 except to take life. He was a coward by nature, and as 
 superstitious as he was craven. He would not murder, 
 because it was written in the decalogue, ' Thou shait not 
 kill,' and his timid nature feared as the acme of human 
 woe, a visitation from the phantom of the murdered body. 
 Therefore, I consented that he should carry her off in 
 that mysterious way." 
 
 My father made Walter promise that as soon as the 
 funeral was over, he would set out for this institution. 
 As there were none left, but my grandmother, of all our 
 kindred, she came with him. 
 
 He further stated, that my poor father had been insol- 
 vent for many years, and was for some time before his 
 death reduced to very necessitous circumstances. After 
 my supposed death, John (xlencoe had withdrawn en- 
 tirely from him. " This," said Walter, " seemed to be 
 an unceasing cause of heart-burning. He continued to 
 cry to the last, 1 Oh ! I did it for them ; I did all this 
 great amount of wickedness for them ; and nowthey have 
 both deserted me. That woman, for whom I made these 
 sacrifices, and forfeited everything, sits at home in regal 
 splendor, while I have not the means to secure to myself 
 a decent burial.' Then he would gnash his teeth and 
 heap imprecations on his own head and theirs. In this 
 frame of mind and temper he died." 
 
 " Poor father ! poor deluded man ! " cried I, and I paid 
 the tribute of genuine sorrow to his memory. I then 
 begged Walter to tell me what transpired at the inn on 
 the roadside. 
 
 It seems, after I had swooned in my father's arms, I 
 w r as carried by Molly and placed in the carriage. Previ- 
 ous to that, the reader will remember, there had been a 
 shot, which in my distraction I thought was fired by my 
 husband, and had taken effect on my cousin. I even 
 believed I heard his death groans. But not so ; it was an 
 accidental shot which was lodged in the shoulder of one 
 
472 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 of the ruffians. My husband was injured by a blow from 
 that Herculean hand. My cousin had also received a 
 wound in the breast, from some assassin's knife. They 
 were unable to proceed, so were carried to their rooms. 
 
 Three days after, Conrad received a challenge, and 
 the parties met the day following, with deadly intent ; 
 Walter being my cousin's second. He stated that when 
 Murray took his station on the ground, he would have 
 furnished the finest study for the artist, as the personifica- 
 tion of cool, calm valor. He was very pale, and there was 
 an undressed wound on his forehead, which was slightly 
 bleeding. His left arm w r as in a sling, and he held the 
 fatal instrument in the right. The ground was measured; 
 they were to walk ten paces, then turn and fire. ' Tis 
 done ! Conrad received the shot of Mr. G-lencoe in his 
 side, having discharged his own in the air. He falls — 
 his antagonist, with his friends, hurry off the ground. 
 
 Soon after, their vehicles were heard driving furiously 
 away. Conrad was taken back to the house. On the way 
 he fainted several times ; and during the operation of 
 extracting the ball, he was extremely ill. Six months he 
 was confined to his bed in that country inn. When he 
 arose from his sick couch, his first thought, his only 
 inquiry, was, for his cousin Marianna. When he had 
 learned her fate, he paid one visit to the pure white marble 
 slab on which her name and early passage to the world of 
 spirits were recorded. Seventeen ! Only ten and seven 
 brief years, and that bright vision has passed away ! He 
 turned off, a stricken man. A hasty and almost silent 
 adieu to his mother — a few hurried leave-takings — one 
 fervent embrace of his little daughter — and he is gone. 
 
 Walter ceased speaking, to gaze at me. My whole frame 
 was shaken by the wildest agitation. " (to on ! go on ! 
 dear friend," cried L 
 
 He resumed, but in an altered voice. " When we hear 
 of him again, he has joined the expedition to Mexico* 
 
THE N I Q H T WATCH. 
 
 473 
 
 Then we are informed of his unparalleled bravery, and 
 his promotion from grade to grade until he reached that 
 of colonel at the end of the campaign. He was as much 
 honored and beloved for his benevolence and great 
 humanity toward his own men and the soldiers gener- 
 ally, as for his personal prowess. He had the confidence 
 and respect of the officers, and was consulted and looked 
 up to in the camp and on the field. 
 
 " At the end of the war, he returned home. In the 
 mean time, his mother, with the little Genevieve, had 
 removed to a distant city. Prompted perhaps by caprice, 
 or may be by the goadings of conscience — or more likely 
 by some secret infernal interest — he joined her there. 
 Further than this, I know nothing," said Walter, gloomily. 
 
 I then inquired about my nurse. That good, upright 
 woman — the faithful, honest slave — the consistent, stead- 
 fast friend, Aunt Molly. Neither he nor my grandmother 
 knew ; but thought she had been sent to some one of John 
 Glencoe's plantations. She had never been seen since 
 those disastrous times. 
 
 Glencoe himself went abroad ; but they had recently 
 seen his name on the list of arrivals in the port of New 
 York. 
 
 Several days passed away quickly and cheerfully. We 
 are devising ways and means to live. Walter proposes 
 that we shall go to some new place, and all live together. 
 He thinks his practice can be made commensurate to our 
 wants. 
 
 I accede to this, but my dear, shrewd, far-seeing grand- 
 mother says nothing, but rocks herself with great energy. 
 We are again alone. 
 
 " Marianna," says my grandmother, " what are you 
 thinking about, thus so heedlessly to consent to that 
 young man's proposals ? Do you want to be principal 
 actor in another tragedy? " 
 
 " Why, dear mother, you speak in enigmas. I thought 
 40 
 
474 
 
 T H E N I G H T VV A T C H 
 
 Walter Jocelyn one of the best and most honorable of 
 men." 
 
 " He may be so. I presume he is so, my child ; but 
 don't you see that he is madly in love with you? " 
 
 " O grandma, this is silly in you. I am sorry to 
 hear you, who never talk nonsense, say so. Think you 
 anybody could love me after witnessing the past? No, 
 no ! dear mother, you do but flatter your child, and 
 wrong him." 
 
 " Well, we will see ere long. I know more than you 
 are aware of." 
 
 When he came the next morning, instead of coming to 
 my sitting-room, he sent his name up, saying he was 
 obliged to see me a moment alone on business. When I 
 reached the parlor, I found him sunk in r every. I 
 touched his arm. He rose in embarrassment, blushed 
 like any school -girl, and sitting down by my side, took 
 my hand. 
 
 " Marianna, you agreed to my proposal, did you not? " 
 I answered in the affirmative, but told him that my 
 grandmother opposed it. 
 
 " She thinks that I can not support you, I suppose? " 
 
 " No, that is not it. She thinks it will be tempting the 
 foul tongue of calumny, and wantonly inviting gossip 
 and scandal. She says that we are so young and foolish 
 that it would not " 
 
 u Oh, I can remedy all that," said he, brightening up, 
 while his cheeks are again suffused with a modest blush. 
 " Dear Marianna, I have loved you from the first hour 
 we ever met ; and I have, for many years, sought you 
 everywhere, that I might tell you so. I now offer you 
 my young, fresh, loving heart, just to do with as you 
 please. Will you, my dear girl, link your fate with mine? 
 Shall we not then go forth, leaving all troubles, sorrows, 
 and painful memories behind, carve out a new life, and 
 lay the foundation on which your boy shall rear a bril- 
 
T H E N I G H T W A T C H 
 
 475 
 
 liant superstructure? Come, dear one, give yourself to 
 me, that I may nurture and cherish you as a mother 
 would her infant." 
 
 " Great God ! " cried I, u what do I hear? " I drew my 
 hand from him (which he had seized in his enthusiasm), 
 and exclaimed, 
 
 " O Walter ! why did you tell me this ? Why did you not 
 let me trust and confide in your friendship ? I have faith 
 in that. But love! love! Oh, dear friend! I shudder as I 
 pronounce the word ! It has brought me all the griefs I 
 have ever known. No, Walter ! no, my friend ! talk not 
 to me of love! I adore you as the most perfect of friends. 
 But do not talk to me of love, else I shall lose my senses 
 again." 
 
 He rose from his seat, and rushed frantically across the 
 room, then dropped into a chair, and covered his face 
 with his hands. After a while he came and sat down by 
 me, looking very pale and melancholy ; he gazed at me 
 fixedly as he said : 
 
 "Marianna, you will never see Mm, perhaps, again in 
 this life ; or if you should chance to meet him, he will be 
 changed. I am told he is addressing a very beautiful 
 heiress, and I think likely you will never see him but to 
 wound you." 
 
 " I do not expect it. I pray God I may never see him. 
 I should deem it the greatest misfortune that could befall 
 me. Were he in this room now, I would not look upon 
 his face. I could not do so without sin." 
 
 " Then fly with me ; let us leave this country, which 
 has proven to be only a vale of tears to us both. We will 
 seek some more consonant sphere of action; when I will 
 make you forget all your griefs, so tenderly will I watch 
 over you." 
 
 " Say not another word ; never mention the subject 
 again, lest you drive me from my stronghold, my last 
 hope and trust in the friendship of man. Love is selfish ! 
 
476 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 tell me not of it. I now need the noble disinterestedness 
 of friendship ; not love." 
 
 He sat down opposite to me — looked very mournfully 
 and strangely into my face for several minutes, without 
 speaking. I inquired the meaning of this look. He 
 replied : 
 
 " May God ! help you, then, Marianna ! you will not 
 let me, and I know not to whom else you can turn in this 
 awful exigency." 
 
 I became alarmed and greatly agitated, and at last 
 cried out, " In the name of heaven ! what is it? " 
 
 " Your husband is at the hotel, in hot pursuit of you. 
 Last night, I was called from my room to visit a sick 
 traveler. He was in an advanced stage of inebriation, 
 and I was not recognized. In his maudlin garrulousness, 
 I learned that by some unlucky chance he had heard of 
 you, and is here now to claim you." 
 
 I w r as seized with a panic, which almost deprived me of 
 life. Walter walked to and fro in the room, as if regard- 
 less of me. Presently I recovered, in some degree, and 
 seizing his hand, I groaned out, " O Walter! my last, 
 my only friend ! what shall I do ? for the love of Christ, 
 advise me!" 
 
 He answered doggedly — still continuing his walk, "I 
 have already given it, and you reject it. I can offer no 
 other, because that is the only way of escape I see open 
 to you." 
 
 " O God ! Can you think of nothing beyond your own 
 selfish gratifications ? your own private feelings and in- 
 terests ? " 
 
 "I have offered you the best advice that I am capable 
 of giving. I have told you of the only plan which sug- 
 gests itself to me." 
 
 " Well ! you can at least tell me all he said, I suppose," 
 added I, bitterly. 
 
 "It seems, immediately after his arrival at the old 
 
THE NIG H T W ATCH 
 
 477 
 
 place, he had been informed, through some mysterious 
 agency, that during his absence you had been an inmate 
 of this establishment, but that you were now entirely 
 restored, and ten times more beautiful than ever. So he 
 has come with carriage and horses, and a friend, to 
 prove your identity, and will claim and take you home 
 with him. This friend is ready to swear to the fact (if 
 you resist), that you were lawfully married, and never 
 divorced. There will be no resisting his claims.' 5 
 
 " When will he be here? " 
 
 " Just as soon as he gets out of bed." 
 
 "Dear Walter ! keep him there to-morrow, just to-mor- 
 row, and give me a little time to reflect on what you 
 have said." 
 
 " Will that benefit me ? " 
 
 "Ah ! self, self again." 
 
 " Marianna, I am so disappointed ! God knows I desire 
 to do all things right, and would serve you with my life ! 
 but I am so cut down, that I will not longer trust myself 
 to talk. Good-by. I will do as you request, and will be 
 here early to-morrow morning." He took my hand, and 
 his was as cold and clammy as a dead man's. I looked up 
 at him with astonishment. He carried it to his fore- 
 head, which was also covered with a cold dew. 
 
 I told it all to my grandmother ; and now her good 
 common sense, decision of judgment, and promptitude of 
 action, are invaluable. She looked compassionately at 
 me, and said, "Well, Marianna, the way is very plain to 
 me; we must fly — fly as much from that hot-headed fool, 
 Walter, as from G-lencoe. I saw the moment he laid his 
 eyes on you, how it would be. But there is no time to 
 talk, we must act. Did you tell me Doctor Goodwin was 
 your friend ? " I nodded assent. 
 
 " Then send for him at once." 
 
 When he came, we told him our distressed situation. 
 He replied, " I was on my way to you, when I got your 
 
478 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 message. I have this moment returned from the hotel. 
 Mr. Glencoe has seen old Doctor Severe, who is entirely 
 bought over to his interest. I am ordered to make the 
 necessary arrangements ; the forms are all settled, and 
 to-morrow morning you are to be yielded up to a besot- 
 ted, almost idiotic, husband. I am shocked, and deeply 
 pained, by this outrage." 
 
 u Then you will help us ?" cried I. "We must leave 
 here to-night. Can you lend us your aid ? " 
 
 " God knows, madam, I would do anything in the world. 
 I would most willingly conduct you to any place of safety 
 that you might suggest; but were I to leave here, it would 
 doubtless lead to your discovery. I should be hunted, the 
 hue and cry would go out ; and my presence, however 
 pure my motives, would retard your progress. But there 
 will be no difficulty in leaving the place." 
 
 So that night, under cover of a darkened sky, we 
 departed. My property of furniture, books, etc., was left 
 behind. I thought of nothing but the importance of 
 escape. We traveled in the night train : the next night 
 saw us many miles away. The day after, we continued 
 our flight. 
 
 At last we became exhausted. My grandmother and 
 the child grew sick ; but the hope of being removed 
 beyond Ms reach, sustained me. So we stopped at the 
 Eailroad House, in this city. We had no means to pur- 
 sue our journey further; and our first troubles was a dun 
 from the landlord. Finding our purses incommensurate 
 to the exorbitant demand, he one day informed me that 
 " he wanted his room." 
 
 My grandmother was always a great reader of the 
 News. In one of the daily papers, she saw those cheap 
 places advertised. She immediately went out and engaged 
 the hovel. 
 
 And now, clear Minny, I have given you a faithful 
 sketch of my past life. I have told you the truth ; nothing 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 479 
 
 extenuating for myself, or aught set down in malice 
 against others. If — now that you have heard the secret 
 cause of this grief, this corroding sorrow — you can still 
 call me friend, and can look upon me as a lady worthy of 
 respect, confidence, and esteem ; then intimate it, and I 
 will joyfully continue to love you. But if, on the other 
 hand, I am at all fallen in your estimation, then draw off 
 from me, and I shall understand it. I do not feel hum- 
 bled or degraded toward my fellow worms. God permit- 
 ted me to be tempted beyond my strength. He suffered 
 this in his wisdom; and sooner or later it will redound to 
 his glory and my good. I feel that he has forgiven me. 
 The upbraidings of conscience, and that stupefying sense 
 of horror which kept me bowed to the earth, have ceased. 
 I have done all I could. I have repented and prayed, and 
 trusted God ; and you, dear friend, first taught me to love 
 the Saviour — to seek the Kingdom. I have found it, 
 Minny, and now rest peacefully on the bosom of Christ. 
 I dread no longer. I find, as you told me, that " perfect 
 love casteth out all fear." 
 
480 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIII. 
 
 CONSCIENCE, THE ORACLE OP GOD. 
 
 " Though thy slumber may be deep, 
 
 Yet thy spirit may not sleep ; 
 
 There are shades which will not vanish, 
 
 There are thoughts thou canst not banish." 
 
 Minny had been obliged to retire, on account of the 
 little Myra, but most reluctantly, for she would willingly 
 have set up all night to watch, with the jealous eyes of 
 true friendship, the effect produced on Murray by Myra's 
 journal. When breakfast was announced, Dr. Brown 
 went in the room ; and when he spoke, Murray looked up 
 at him, seeming not to comprehend one word. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know," said he, u but send Mrs. Brown 
 here ; I must see her." The Doctor w T ent back to the 
 breakfast-room, with a very dissatisfied look. 
 
 " Wife, I believe Murray is either going to lose his life 
 or his senses over those papers. To all I say, he answers, 
 " Send Minny here ; I must speak with Mrs. Brown," etc. 
 
 The good little creature put the child into her grand- 
 mother's arms, and ran up to him. " Good heavens, sir, 
 w r hat is the matter ? Ye look the picture o' hopeless mis- 
 ery. I dinna ken what mak's you tak on sae." 
 
 He pointed to the adjuration, and to the passage where 
 poor Marianna is accused of that frightful crime ; then 
 closes his eyes, and lets the paper fall from his hands. 
 
 " Now listen to me. If ye will get up, and tak' the 
 tepid bath which is made ready for you in the next room, 
 and will then come down to breakfast, wi' a better looking 
 face, I will gie ye a paper that will set a' that to rights. 
 
T HE NIGH T WATCH. 
 
 481 
 
 Your poor mither writ a letter, or rather I writ it while 
 she dictated it. All that trouble will have passed aw^ay, 
 when ye ha' read that document. Eut I will na gie it to 
 ye unless ye do as I have said." 
 
 She left him, and when the servant came in to assist 
 him, he allowed himself to be undressed and submerged 
 like one in a trance. After which he descended to the 
 breakfast-room. He sipped a few drops of colfee mechan- 
 ically. Minny saw this abstraction, and calling him into 
 the parlor, put into his hand the letter of his dying 
 mother. He begged permission to withdraw to his room. 
 When there, he locks the door, sits down, and as he opens 
 the letter, a cold shudder passes over him. He tries to read. 
 M O G-od ! what new horror awaits me here ? I dread to 
 look into this paper. Almost my entire faith in the human 
 family is destroyed." 
 
 To Charles Conrad Murray: 
 
 H My Dear Son : I am called ; I have received that sum- 
 mons which none, how r ever imperious and self-sustaining, 
 can slight. I hear it, and feel it, and know it. It is pro- 
 claimed to me in the roaring of my ears. I feel it in my 
 failing sight. It is blended with my heavy and difficult 
 breathing; in this shuddering sense of dread ; this fearful 
 looking forward to, and waiting for, I do not know what. 
 
 " I hear a hollow, tomb-like voice, which says continu- 
 ally, ' Woman, thy soul is required of thee ! ' Oh, how it 
 sounds ! How dolefully it rings ! Will you forgive your 
 mother, Conrad? Can you pardon her now, as she stands 
 shivering and shrinking on the confines of two worlds — 
 neither wishing to go nor stay, not being fit for either ; or 
 will your curse, when you have heard all, descend with her 
 to the grave, and herald her soul to the abodes of dark- 
 ness. Alas ! I know this would be but justice. Yet 
 before I die, I wish if time serves to do an act, one soli- 
 tary act in a whole life-time, which was not prompted 
 41 
 
482 
 
 T H E N I G H T WATC H . 
 
 by self : self-love, self-interest, self-aggrandizement, and 
 worse than all, revenge. 
 
 " My son, she whom you have loved so fondly, so unsel- 
 fishly, and with a constancy which has defied absence, 
 mystery, calumny, and time, which is the best crucible to 
 test the worth of every passion, still lives, and is worthy 
 of such devotion, and may yet be your wife, without sin 
 or shame to either of you. Poor girl! she has suffered 
 equally with yourself. Each throb of anguish which her 
 seeming rejection has caused you ; each pang of disap- 
 pointment and mortification, has been more than respon- 
 ded to by her heart, which has known no change. 
 
 u That soul-harrowing tale of your close consanguinity, 
 which was breathed into the ear of the poor girl the day 
 after she was torn from your arms by her hard-hearted 
 father, was a fiendish invention of Doctor G-lencoe and 
 your wretched mother to separate you — so often had we 
 been foiled in our attempts to do this, and so well were 
 we convinced that prison walls, nor dungeons, nor chains, 
 would keep you asunder, if she were willing. So that 
 embodiment of deceit pretended, with many protestations 
 of sorrow, a great showing of shame, and almost mad- 
 dening compunctions, to reveal to his child the secret 
 cause of his opposition. Many were the crocodile tears 
 shed over that poor thing, while we were fabricating 
 that intricate chain of events which was forever to fetter 
 her conscience. 
 
 " Conrad, that girl's mother was pure, and chaste, and 
 honest, and upright ; and as such she reared her daugh- 
 ter. She was my successful rival, and for that I hated 
 her. Yes, from the hour I felt her superiority, I hated 
 her. Even now, when time has receded to a mere point, 
 and eternity is opening before me with its overwhelming ; 
 vastness, I am still conscious of the existence of this pass- 
 ion. I also feel that it will constitute my greatest pun- 
 ishment down in that place to which I am hastening. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 483 
 
 " But my mind wanders. Suffice it to say, that John 
 Glencoe, whom I loved, even with that sort of passion 
 which has descended to my son ; devastating, and strew- 
 ing my pathway, even as his, with the ruins of all cher- 
 ished and beloved objects ; gave the preference to the soft, 
 gentle Myra. He gave her his hand and his name. Aye ! 
 his name; but I guided, ruled, and possessed the man, 
 while the innocent and child-like Myra embraced and 
 loved the soulless husband. Thus matters had progressed. 
 But let me retr overt for a moment. 
 
 " I waited but one week after the alliance of my lover 
 with my hated rival, and I too married. In a fit of unpre- 
 cedented recklessness, I married your father, w T ho was, 
 as you know, first cousin to Marianna's mother. Conrad, 
 on your father's part, I presume this was a match of affec- 
 tion, but I never reciprocated it. I honored his talents 
 and force of character; I admired him as the finest spe- 
 cimen of manly beauty. O my son ! he was your proto- 
 type. My judgment and my secret soul acknowledged 
 his vast superiority over my former lover ; but what mat- 
 ters? When was human love the growth of human 
 will ? 
 
 " You were born under just such circumstances, and 
 you are like him. Oh ! so like him in all things. This 
 alone should contradict that evil story of ours. For seven 
 years, their home was unblessed by the well-spring of 
 gladness. JSTo little toddling feet ran to meet him when 
 he came. No soft, lisping voice hailed him by that sweet- 
 est of names, papa. He grew moody, morose, and his 
 home seemed distasteful to him. Then it was that he 
 threw himself in my way, importuned, entreated, vowed, 
 in the name of all good as well as all evil spirits, that he 
 had never loved Myra, but had continued to love me. I 
 do believe that opposition and resistance had brought him 
 nearer to the genuine feeling than any he had ever known 
 before. But 1 never yielded ; not so much, I fear, from 
 
484 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 the love of virtue, as a desire to punish him. Ye Gods ! 
 what a feast it was to me to witness his writhings ; after 
 having lured him on to hope, and tempted him beyond 
 the strength of any human being to resist, then would I 
 repulse him, and gloat over the sufferings of a man pros- 
 trated by his passions. 
 
 u Yet I repeat, I never sinned with that man, and I 
 loved him too. You were born, my son, after your 
 father's decease, but not as John Glencoe stated, a whole 
 year. 
 
 " On returning from the little inn where they overtook 
 you, he poisoned her pure ears with the recital of his own 
 depravity and my weakness. The turpitude would have 
 been greater on his part than on mine, as I was free then 
 from the fetters of wedlock. He stated to that poor girl that 
 you were both his children ; then frightened her into the 
 most solemn adjurations that can be uttered, as she knelt 
 there, the Bible clasped to her breast, the priest standing 
 before her with the crucifix held over her head, to absolve 
 or denounce, as the case might be. (Glencoe was a Papist.) 
 The oath w^as thus administered, the girl repeating it 
 after the priest. Oh ! I have not time now to recount 
 the horrors of that scene ; but they made the poor crea- 
 ture swear that she would suffer all the tortures of the 
 damned rather than meet you again ; or if she should see 
 you by chance, that she would hide away. I witnessed 
 all this from an aperture in a neighboring wall ; and if I 
 had had a human heart in my breast, I would have rushed 
 forward and given the lie to that foul wrong to her and 
 aspersion on myself. But I was riveted to the spot. Her 
 father had forced her to confess her sins to a priest, yet 
 she was a Protestant, like her mother. When she had 
 gotten through with this dreadful ordeal, he pronounced 
 the sentence, and said she had committed an unpardon- 
 able sin. Then the poor creature fell like one pierced to 
 the heart, a lifeless mass. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 485 
 
 u She never saw her husband after you were separated, 
 Conrad ; yet that little boy was born. 
 
 "And now, in conclusion, my poor son — my good, duti- 
 ful, affectionate boy, seeing no further barrier to your 
 union with your second cousin, Marianna Glencoe, let me 
 caution you against your children falling into that sin 
 which you did not commit. Your child, the little Gene- 
 vieve, and that beautiful boy are half-brother and sister. 
 O Conrad ! O my son ! I am done. There is much more 
 that I would say to you, if I had strength, but I have not. 
 Farewell ! may a God of pity prosper you and show 
 mercy to me. Amen." 
 
 About the time that Murray finished reading this letter, 
 he was summoned to the parlor to see a visitor, and there 
 he found the same mysterious figure as ever, closely 
 veiled. When she offered the salutations of the morning, 
 he started, for he had not forgotten, or recovered from 
 the influence of that soft, touching voice. 
 
 After he had led her to a seat — still retaining her hand 
 — she says : " Friend, I have come to thee, I fear, on a 
 thankless office. I have told the beautiful lady of thee ; 
 spoken to her of thy gallant conduct, thy noble disregard 
 of thy own life, to save hers. I told her of thy superhu- 
 man strength and courage, expended in her service. I 
 have plead for thee, explained to her eager ears how thou 
 dost love her. I have pledged my life, and the honor 
 of him who is dearer to me than that life, on the proof 
 of thy fidelity and honesty ; yet she shakes her head, and 
 says, " I dare not, I must not. I shall perjure myself. 
 Oh ! if you but knew ! " When I then plead for an inter- 
 view, even though that should lead to a final sepa- 
 ration, she weeps vehemently, and says, " I dare not even 
 look upon him one time. O that I could gaze on his 
 noble countenance one instant, and then close these eyes 
 in death ! " She also mourns for her child, grandmother, 
 and her friend Minny. 
 
486 
 
 T H E N 1 G H T W ATCH. 
 
 H I have come to arrange a meeting with some of you. 
 Though you, my dear friend," said she, turning to Con- 
 rad, and taking both of his hands, " she will not consent to 
 see ; she has not told me wherefore. I can not restore her 
 to thee here, just yet. It would be as much as my own 
 life, and that of another, is worth, to remove her until the 
 time arrives. That may come sooner than we know of ^ 
 at present. To my power of doing good, there is a limit, 
 and I am obliged to proceed with caution. She has 
 offered two or three times to make me acquainted with 
 the events and vicissitudes of her life, but I have always 
 declined it. I did not wish to see her excited, while so 
 feeble. Ah ! little does she suspect how much I have 
 been forced to know of her sad history. But this secret 
 which keeps you asunder, I do not know. Yet I hope, 
 sir, that it is not irremediable." 
 
 "No, dear lady," said Murray; "I have that here," 
 holding out his mother's letter, " which will restore the 
 right." 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it," said she, " for, with me, 
 1 right makes might.' My intention is to come in a car- 
 riage to-night, and conduct thee to her ; Murdoch will be 
 with me. But remember, sir, when I introduce thee 
 within the secret walls of my people — conduct thee into 
 their stronghold, that I place my own life, and the safety 
 of others, who are dear to me, at thy mercy, and maybe 
 jeopardize the interest of five hundred Jews. And my 
 father, thou would'st not wreak thy indignation and 
 wrath on that old man? Thou would'st not harm him? 
 Surely his daughter, who has ever stood between thee 
 and danger, and tried to protect those thou lovest, may 
 hope for clemency at thy hands, toward the feeble, white- 
 haired, old man. His power is gone ; he can work no 
 more mischief at Tier behest. His will and strength to 
 do so, seemed to depart with her life." 
 
 " Nay, lady, you surely do not distrust me? I would 
 
THE N I G H T W A T G 11 . 
 
 487 
 
 be drawn by wild horses, or hung up like a malefactor, 
 ere I would endanger aught that you love and value." 
 
 She passed into Minny's room, and held a long and 
 confidential conversation, with that good little creature. 
 Whether they had ever met before, or whether they had 
 been made acquainted only through the £ «Night Watch.' 
 i these chronicles do not state. But there seemed to be 
 a perfect harmony and concert in their movements. 
 She took the little Myra from Clarence, fondled her affec- 
 tionately for a short time ; then, placing her again in his 
 arms, stooped down and kissed the boy. 
 
 " Sweet cherub ! I will come to-night, and take thee to 
 thy mother. She is quite well, my love, and waiting for 
 thee ; but thou must be patient, like a darling little boy, 
 till I come." She then left. 
 
 " Aweel, aweel, I wonder what a' this means. See here, 
 Col. Murray, I dinna ken what has come o'er the world/ ' 
 And she carried the children to Murray. " See what the 
 fairy queen has left." 
 
 There was a necklace of diamonds of great value 
 around the little girl's neck, and on Clarence's finger a 
 costly gem, and in his bosom a diamond pin. Murray 
 had been so much engrossed with his reflections, and his 
 joy was so full to find the ban removed from them, that he 
 had not thought of the boy. In thinking so intensely of 
 the mother, he had forgotten the child. Kow the idea 
 comes rushing into his mind. He catches him up, clasps 
 him to his breast, and calls out in joyful recollections, 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Brown, did I read aright? Can the 
 instincts of the heart deceive me ? It is so ! Did I read 
 aright?" 
 
 " Yes ; but hist, hist ! Speak not o' that to him. Myra 
 wad na have him to speer into the past, I wot." 
 
 " You are right, my dear friend ; and you are always 
 wise, discreet, and considerate." 
 
 We must now take rather a retrograde stride. 
 
488 
 
 T HE N I G H T W A T C H . 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 RETRIBUTION: OR T II E MANIAC HUSBAND. 
 
 41 There is your husband — like a mildewed ear, 
 Blasting your wholesome presence/' 
 
 41 His wretched brain gave way, 
 And he became a wreck at random driven, 
 Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven." 
 
 When John Glencoe arrived at the boarding-house, on his 
 way to claim his wife and child, he found Walter walking 
 the hall in great agitation. He had preceded the besotted 
 and bestial husband, that he might lend assistance, if neces- 
 sary, to the unfortunate wife. When he heard from Doc- 
 tor Goodwin that they were not to be found, and that 
 Marianna had escaped in the night from the terrible fate 
 which awaited her on the morrow, he was more aston- 
 ished th an rejoiced. His first impulse was to pursue them ; 
 then he remembered that he had no right to do so, hav- 
 ing no claims on them. So he had to sit down and 
 " devour his heart " in secret, and endure as best he could 
 the pangs of unrequited love. 
 
 But who can describe, what pen or pencil can paint the 
 rage of the foiled husband ? He had been impelled by 
 the fiercest and worst passions incident to human nature, 
 to seek his poor wife. Eevenge and lust, these were the 
 only motives which induced his return from Europe, and 
 prompted that long and careful search, until lighting on 
 some trifling circumstances, he traced her thither. His 
 intention was to get possession of her person, and then 
 remove to some distant country, where he could, urmo- 
 
THE _N I <j H I V A I C H . 489 
 
 ticed and unmolested, indulge the evil promptings of his 
 now depraved heart. But God, who never slumbers or 
 sleeps, but continues to watch over the humble and desti- 
 tute, did not see fit to have that poor stray lamb of the 
 fold further outraged. 
 
 Poor Gleneoe was not radically bad. but he was impelled 
 on by noti ons of wrongs, and infuriated by maddening 
 drinks and evil associate!! to this cruel step. He had not 
 for one second thought of the possibility of his poor, 
 helpless, defenseless wife offering the least resistance to 
 his will ; much less, escaping from his power. There- 
 fore, when he was informed of this fact, he raved and 
 swore, gnashed his teeth, tore his hair, rushed from room 
 to room, threw down furniture, broke whatever he laid 
 his hands on. threw costly articles of ornament out of the 
 windows, crushing other things to atoms in his hands. 
 
 At last, he came to a large mirror, where he -aw his 
 ghastly and distorted features reflected. He sent forth a 
 hideous yell, and then burst into that most appalling of all 
 sounds, a loud. wild, maniac laugh. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! You are grinning and gibbering at me. 
 are vou ? You foul fiend ! vou Devil ! You shall not 
 rejoice at my discomfiture. You have come to claim me, 
 maybe. Well, we'll see : V and he rushed on the splendid 
 Yenitian plate, and in a short time had demolished its 
 polished face with his fist, aiming every blow at his own 
 image, taking it for a mocking demon. 
 
 He was secured and carried, exhausted and bleeding, to 
 the same cell which had for such a length of time impris- 
 oned his hapless wife. This was accidental. The same 
 strait-jacket that had been used to confine her tender 
 limbs, was used to secure his distorted and mangled ones. 
 
 When Doctor Severe came, he found him a wild maniac, 
 raging mad like a rabid dog. foaming at the mouth, and 
 snapping at everything which came in his way. All pos- 
 sible means was used to restore him : for his ample fortune 
 
490 
 
 T H E NIGHT WAT C H . 
 
 secured to him every attention. All skill was exhausted, 
 without producing any other change than a dogged 
 silence. A month passed in this way ; and they have 
 pronounced him a hopeless case of idiotic insanity. 
 
 Thus the interval had elapsed. Poor Marianna had 
 never been advised of the events above recorded ; or of 
 the present existing facts. 
 
 Minny has just reminded Col. Murray, that she feared 
 Myra would make this a barrier to their union, even after 
 she finds the first is removed. She proposes, therefore, 
 that he shall write at once to Dr. Goodwin, and ascertain 
 the present condition of the patient. 
 
 "Invaluable woman," exclaimed he, "you forget no- 
 thing. This is all-important. I will send a dispatch, 
 which will be answered ere we meet." He then sat down 
 to write. The door-bell rings ; and the servant shows 
 in Miss Emma Calderwood, and a gentleman. 
 
 The girl introduces Doctor Jocelyn ; and then catching 
 up the little Clarence, is so occupied with him that she 
 does not see the crimson flash on her lover's cheek. 
 
 Murray approached him, and taking his hand, said with 
 emotion, "I thank God that I am permitted this happi- 
 ness once more. My friend, I have sought you every- 
 where. I have written letter after letter, directing them 
 to every city and town in the United States, without 
 receiving a response." 
 
 "Why this is most strange! I have done the same, 
 only I was informed of your whereabouts ; and wrote 
 advisedly. This is the w 7 hole groundwork of my dis- 
 satisfaction tow 7 ard you, sir. I was, in truth, most deeply 
 wounded by your seeming slights ; and must needs feel 
 indignant at those contempts put upon me. But recently, 
 wnthin a day or two (said he, glancing at Emma), I have 
 cultivated better feelings." 
 
T II E NIG H T W A T C H . 
 
 491 
 
 "Explain, sir, if you please. I am most anxious to 
 have an eclaircissement at once, that I may free myself 
 from this blame. Proceed, my friend. I am impatient." 
 
 "A year or two ago, meeting with a disappointment 
 where all my hopes of happiness had been garnered up, 
 and by which they were wrecked, I became so despairingly 
 wretched, that I suffered my business to fall into frightful 
 disorder. You know, perhaps, that I am an orphan, poor, 
 and without patronage. After my only friend and bene- 
 factor died, I was dependent on the profession, which I 
 had acquired through his charity. Poor Doctor Glen- 
 coe : I have cause to speak kindl} 7 of him, at least. "Well : 
 I neglected this only means left me of independence, and 
 locked myself up in my chamber, holding no communica- 
 tion with any. I thus became involved ; indebted to the 
 landlord, without hope of finding the means to appease 
 his rapacity. I wrote to you, sir, begging the loan of a 
 small sum." 
 
 "For the love of God, say no more: or say at once 
 that you exonerate me from this meanness. Tell me that 
 you are convinced that I never received those letters. 
 My dear Walter, I would have given you my coat, and 
 gone without it myself. I am ready now, as before, to 
 divide the last dollar with you." 
 
 " I do believe you, sir ; and may He whom you invoke, 
 forgive me, as I trust you will, for suffering those doubts 
 to take hold of me at all." 
 
 " Go on," added Murray ; 11 1 see you have more to com- 
 municate." 
 
 "I was driven by my necessities to seek a subordinate 
 situation in a lunatic asylum, which place to one of my 
 temperament was maddening. My God ! the horrors that 
 I have been forced to witness in that pandemonium are 
 enough to drive the strongest into the place for life. But 
 let me hasten. It was my duty, by my particular request, 
 to wait professionally on poor Mr. Glencoe, that I might 
 
492 
 
 T HE N I G H T W A T C H 
 
 minister to his few wants ; which I did to the last, faith- 
 fully ameliorating his condition, and mitigating as much 
 as I dared the stern usages of the institution. He is dead ! 
 (It was by a mighty effort that Conrad suppressed an 
 exclamation. Eut he did suppress it, for he saw that he 
 was watched.) " Mr. Glencoe died about two weeks 
 since," continued Dr. Jocelyn. " Before his death, he had 
 his will drawn up and attested by the 1 Board of Physi- 
 cians,' who assert on oath that his last hours were sane. 
 His immense estate he bequeathed jointly to the little 
 Clarence and myself. I am here now, sir, to yield up my 
 portion to the rightful heirs — his wife and his great aunt, 
 Marianna's grandmother. " 
 
 " JSToble, generous young man ! How exalted is your 
 nature ! Suffer me to say , I admire and honor you above 
 measure. But I presume you have heard of the dreadful 
 circumstances which wrap the fate of the unfortunate 
 Marianna in mystery." 
 
 The young man turned away and walked to the win- 
 dow. After a while, he came up to Murray, and said, " Sir, 
 you used the word mystery ; is it not a certainty ? " 
 
 " No : we have strong hopes that she lives." 
 
 " Indeed! Then why stand ye here? How can you 
 for one moment thus fold your arms in peace ? Away at 
 once to the rescue, else I " 
 
 He was interrupted in these vehement ejaculations and 
 implied reproaches, by the entrance of old Mrs. Glencoe. 
 Walter approached her, and after the mournful greetings 
 were over, they withdrew to another room, where they 
 conversed for a long time. 
 
 In the interim, Murray had learned from Emma that 
 Walter was now her declared lover. 
 
 u And I hope accepted one? " rejoined Minny. 
 
 « Not quite," said the innocent girl, blushing. Walter 
 comes at the moment, and they depart. 
 
 "Now, my gude friend, ye canna longer doubt. Ye 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 493 
 
 must feel that the hand o' the Lord is in a' this ! Dinna 
 ye see how the way is being opened for ye ? Now, will 
 ye still distrust God?" 
 
 " I shall never forget to trace all good under Him to 
 you, our patron saint," said Murray, with emotion. 
 
 " Aweel now ! Dinna say sic thing as that. Not unto 
 puir me, but unto that veiled lady. Eender tribute only 
 where it is due. I canna claim ony thing for simply doing 
 my duty, when God mak's the way sae plain." 
 
 The hours roll on heavily. Suspense is at the front of 
 the car, and anxiety clogs its wheels. They are waiting 
 for the appearance of the veiled lady with feverish impa- 
 tience. 
 
 Eight o'clock: nine — ten, and she does not come. 
 They are almost in despair. At last a carriage-is driven 
 furiously up to the door. They have taken their seats in 
 it. A soft, sweet voice says : 
 
 " I hope thou wilt forgive me. We have been detained 
 by the sudden illness of my father." 
 
 " I trust he is better now?" said Murray. 
 
 " Yes, my friend, else I could not be here at this 
 moment." 
 
 They sped on. On, on roll those everlasting wheels. 
 " Will we never arrive? " thought Minny. 
 
 " Oh ! when shall I behold her ? " felt Murray. 
 
 After a while they stop. It is very dark. The young 
 girl takes Murray by the hand ; and Murdoch, with the 
 child in one arm, has Minny on the other. They plunge 
 into that dark alley, and now they ascend that intermin- 
 able stair-way. On reaching the last platform, they hear 
 the tinkling of the little bell. The girl listens for the 
 quavering voice. She steps back; the bell rings again. 
 She gives the rap, but there is no answering call. She 
 throws a frightened look into Murdoch's face, who opens 
 the door softly, and they enter the same miserable place 
 which has been described before — with this difference. 
 
494 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 there is a small cot or lounge in the center of the room, 
 which is in very marked contrast with all surrounding 
 objects. The bed and its furniture is of spotless white- 
 ness, and of very fine material. 
 
 The girl goes up to the couch, and folding down the 
 counterpane, finds it empty. She casts a bewildered look 
 around. Then fixing her eyes on Murdoch, with the 
 same alarmed look of inquiry, exclaims, " Father Abra- 
 ham ! what does this mean? Oh! my dear Murdoch, 
 where is he ? Who has stolen him from me ? " 
 
 The slightest smile passed over the handsome face of 
 the Night Watch, as he said, " Fear not, child. Who, 
 think ye, would wish to do that? " 
 
 There is a mean, poverty-stricken tallow candle stuck 
 in a hole in the top of the rickety table, which sends forth 
 from its long wick, a ghastly glare on all around. The 
 tallow has melted, and run down on the side, forming 
 itself into fantastic shapes, which the timid and supersti- 
 tious call a " winding sheet." Murdoch seems not to be 
 wholly free from this weakness ; for an ejaculation of 
 impatience escaped him, as he proceeded to remove it 
 ere Leah should notice. Having lighted another, he 
 goes to a corner near the fire-place, and holding the 
 light down, its rays fall on the body of the miser, stretched 
 across that old trunk ; his arms spread out protectingly 
 over it, and his cheek laid lovingly on the coarse, rough 
 hair. His attitude is that of one wishing to caress or 
 shield a beloved object. 
 
 The girl flies to him — having torn off her bonnet and 
 veil — and falling on her knees, commenced the most 
 plaintive lamentations. 
 
 Murdoch takes her up tenderly and says, " Leah, you 
 are mistaken, child. He is not dead but sleeps. Get 
 your elixir, while I remove him to the bed." 
 
 He found some difficulty in tearing him off; his fingers 
 had clenched the iron bands with such tenacity, and 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 495 
 
 retained their hold with such spasmodic force, that it 
 seemed as if the hands must needs be severed from the 
 arm. By Murray's assistance, he succeeded in dislodging 
 him ; and then he roused up and began to sigh and moan 
 most piteously. 
 
 "Oh! oh! They want my monish. They have come 
 to take my monish." Then he would weep with the 
 imbecility of childhood. 
 
 Leah brings him the draught. He clutches it and cries 
 out, " It is too much. Thou dost waste things, Leah. 
 Hagar would not treat her poor fadder so. Oh ! oh ! I 
 sail be ruin. I — I" 
 
 " Drink it, dear father, said the girl ; this must last you 
 all night." 
 
 "Den put out one of dem candle; I sail be ruin. O 
 shild ! I sail be ruin." And he falls asleep, still whim- 
 pering. 
 
 Leah rings a silver bell : a small woman, very richly 
 dressed, with keen, sinister-looking black eyes, and black 
 hair, cut short over her head, appears. Minny recog- 
 nizes those features. They belong to the little African 
 slave. But that pure white skin, and that perfectly devel- 
 oped bust, are those of a young lady of the Caucasian 
 race. 
 
 "Hagar," said Leah, " remain here ; on thy life, do not 
 leave him one moment. I shall return anon." 
 
 She then lead the way, first removing a parcel of old 
 clothes from the wall, which looked as if they had hung 
 there for a century ; then pressed on a board : a portion 
 of the wall, rather less than a common door recedes, and 
 they pass into a narrow passage or corridor. They tra- 
 verse this pass-way for some distance; then, after descend- 
 ing a few moments, they emerge into a spacious hall, 
 lighted by a handsome lamp from the ceiling. At the end 
 of this hall, which is marble, are folding doors beautifully 
 carved and polished. These doors open as if by magic, at 
 
496 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH 
 
 the approach of the mistress, and disclose a large sa- 
 loon resplendent with chandeliers, suspended from the 
 vaulted roof, whose innumerable lights are reflected on the 
 face of large mirrors reaching to the floor. On either 
 side of the room are arranged in charming negligence, 
 gorgeous sofas, ottomans, divans, rocking chairs, etc. The 
 carpet is so rich and soft, that their foot-fall seems to be 
 on down ; crimson satin, and the finest white muslin cur- 
 tains, hang from the lofty window-frames. These only 
 open into other spacious rooms ; there seems to be no 
 looking out on the external world. 
 
 At one end of this grand saloon, there is an aviary; 
 w r here the birds imprisoned feel not their fetters — all is 
 so beautiful and delicious there : they sing and chirp, and 
 hop from flower to flower ; and they know^ their mistress, 
 and sing more cheerily, and carol more blithely. When 
 she comes, they perch upon her hand, and peck the seeds 
 and crumbs from her fingers, as she feeds them. 
 
 At the other end is a conservatory, where every 
 native, and many exotics, are cultivated ; the sun being 
 admitted through a sky-light. There are also various 
 musical instruments lying about the room. Our friends, 
 notwithstanding their pre-occupation, are compelled to 
 note the appointments of this room so unique as well 
 as magnificent ; so beautiful and dazzling. 
 
 tC Now rest thee here, my friends, while I go in first," 
 said Leah. "Murdoch, remain thou with them." And 
 taking the child by the hand, she disappears. 
 
 In another instant, they hear a simultaneous cry of joy, 
 from mother and child. After a short time, Minny is 
 taken in. The good creature's voice is heard first as if 
 in explanation; then expostulation. Then she is inter- 
 rupted by sobs and ejaculations, from poor Myra. Now, 
 again, that honest, upright, and earnest voice, is heard in 
 deprecatory tones. Anon she chides. But when those 
 soft, sweet, plaintive tones are heard in entreaty : " For 
 
THE NIGHT \V A T H . 
 
 497 
 
 the love of heaven, cease to tempt me, Minny," Murray 
 can stand it no longer. He burst from the firm grasp 
 of Murdoch ; who had held him fast up to that moment, 
 lest he should spoil all, by precipitating himself into her 
 presence at the wrong time. He has cleared the distance 
 between them, and Marianna, is once more resting on 
 his bosom. All else is forgotten; many minutes of wild, 
 delirious joy, and ecstatic rapture, pass by before they 
 utter a word; then, when their imprisoned feelings are 
 freed, and their long pent-up natures are permitted to 
 meet and mingle ; when soul answers to soul from the 
 secret depth of their fond,* loving hearts, then they find 
 language to express it. 
 
 When Conrad had rushed into the room, and thrown 
 himself down by the side of Marianna, Leah slipped 
 away, and going back to Murdoch, sat down by him, and 
 leaning her head wearily on his shoulder, shed tears, gen- 
 tle tears, soft and refreshing as the evening dew. He 
 encircled her in his arms, and pressed her to his bosom 
 tenderly ; Oh how tenderly and delicately ! You could 
 scarcely have believed that this was the same Night 
 Watch. Yet it is even so. It is he, and the heart and the 
 head are the same ; the true and genuine nature is the 
 same; he has only cast off the rough coating, the coarse 
 rind. 
 
 " Dear one," said he, softly, in her ear, " the time has 
 almost come. Our task is well-nigh done, and we have 
 nearly reached the goal. Oh ! how I do love you for your 
 goodness." 
 
 " And I thee for thy greatness," sighed the girl. 
 
 They are now joined by Minny. She informs them 
 that there is but one draw-back to an entire reconciliation. 
 The letter — Conrad's letter; she can not be reconciled to 
 that. It was a forgery ; they believe this; still Mari- 
 anna is sad and tearful. 
 
 " If that is all," said Leah, " I can soon make the present 
 42 
 
498 
 
 T H E N I G M T W A T C B 
 
 bright again." She went to her room, and returned 
 with two papers, and tapping at their door, passed in. 
 She saw at a glance that there was a shadow on their 
 brows. u Come, this must not be, friends. Dispel that 
 cloud, and listen to me." 
 
 Then she recounts the ^vents which transpired at the 
 time of Miss Lindsay's visit to her father — hands the orig- 
 inal letter which she picked up from the floor after the 
 lady had left, saying very innocently, " I presume it 
 belongs to thee, lady ; " and turning to Conrad, says, 
 " There was no envelop, but the name within is thine." 
 
 They are again left alorffe, and now this last barrier is 
 removed. It is all explained, and they are more fully 
 convinced than ever, that they had narrowly escaped being 
 sacrificed to the diabolical plot meant to subserve the 
 interests of the baser actors in the foregoing drama. 
 
 Minny goes in to admonish them of the hour. She 
 must return to her family, and they are to accompany 
 her. By dint of much talking, she at length gets them 
 to understand that they are still inhabitants of this mun- 
 dane sphere, and that her duties call her to her own 
 peculiar little sphere. 
 
 They look round for their benefactress, that they may 
 pour out their souls in gratitude, but she is not there. 
 Murray takes up the child, twines his other arm about 
 the waist of Marianna, and they move on through the 
 same passages and hall. On arriving at the end of the 
 last corridor, Murdoch listens a moment; then pressing 
 his finger on the spring, the wall opens, and they pass 
 through. Leah is there on her knees, by the side of the 
 dying miser. They do not invade the privacy of her 
 sorrow, which is holy, and should not be intermeddled 
 with. 
 
 When Murdoch has seen them to the carriage, he returns 
 to Leah. He entreats her to retire and leave him to 
 watch. " Oh no, dear Murdoch, it is not long that any of 
 
THE N i G H T W A T C H 
 
 499 
 
 us will have to minister to him. Let me alone. 1 must 
 speak a great deal between this and day." 
 
 The patient opens his eyes, and seeing Murdoch, with 
 an impatient gesture waves him off. 
 
 " Go, dear Murdoch," said Leah, "he wishes to be left 
 alone with me, that is all. Do not think hardly of me, 
 my love, for sending you away." She rises from her 
 knees, and laying one little white hand round his neck, 
 with the other pushes back the raven locks from his lofty 
 brow, and imprints a holy kiss on his forehead ; then 
 returned and knelt again by the poor old man. He 
 rewards her with a look of unutterable love and confi- 
 dence. 
 
 The whole night, that dutiful daughter and noble- 
 minded woman is pleading for others. She entreats her 
 father to make restitution, ere it is too late, to all whom 
 his conscience accuses him of having wronged. She begs 
 him to leave her sister Hagar equal heiress with herself 
 in his will, which he is now most anxious to have drawn 
 up. But when she proposes sending for a notary, he 
 objects vehemently, saying that she only should write it. 
 To pacify him, she consents. Then there on her knees, 
 with streaming eyes, she implores him to consent to her 
 marriage with Murdoch. He shakes his head, and makes 
 an angry sign for silence. 
 
 " Ah ! poor father, I can not obey thee in this. I must 
 speak ere it "is too late." The Jew shakes his head again . 
 
 " My dear father, he is the best friend thou ever hadst. 
 It was only that he might in some sort watch over, warn, 
 and shield thy family and our people from wrong and 
 oppression, that he ever consented to become the Night 
 Watch. Otherwise he would not have descended to such 
 an office." 
 
 The old man seems to reflect; then shaking his head, 
 closes his eyes. Leah proposes to send for a Eabbi ; but 
 he objects to this also, and says, peevishly, " Shild, shild, I 
 
500 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 does not want any of dem ; dou is enough for me, and can 
 do all dat I wants done." 
 
 Day dawns, and finds that daughter still on her knees, 
 holding the hand of her death-stricken father. Pres- 
 ently she withdraws to prepare him some nutriment, but 
 he yells after her as if frightened by ten thousand furies. 
 Hagar, who has been all her life his tool and instrument 
 of mischief, who was always one after his own heart, is now 
 banished from his presence. He is apparently afraid of her. 
 
 Twelve o'clock ; and the patient is so much worse that 
 the girl sends for the Eabbi without his consent. When 
 he conies, he informs Leah that there is no time to lose ; 
 and w r hatever there is to do, must be done quickly. He 
 writes a few T words, and gives the note to Hagar. Then 
 that High Priest — that old Caiaphas — sits down by that 
 crime-stained man, whose soul is weighed down by sin, 
 and talks to him of his temporal affairs. Leah had left 
 the room for a moment, and on her return brings with her 
 this note to Murdoch : 
 
 " Dear Murdoch — Come quickly, and bring with thee 
 as witnesses, Col. Murray, Doctor Brown, and a notary. 
 Lose no time ; in a little while it will be too late. 
 
 Thine own LEAH.' , 
 
 She ran down to the store, and calling the shop-boy, gave 
 him the note and a piece of money, urging him to delay 
 not a second. Fortunately he found Murdoch on his way 
 there. He jumped into a hack, and drove to the different 
 points ; and having gathered up the persons named, in a 
 short time they are at the place. 
 
 Leah is still on her knees by the bedside. She raised 
 her head, and by signs intimated that they must keep out 
 of sight. They therefore ranged themselves at the back 
 of the patient. There are five or six strange-looking 
 swarthy Jew faces sitting opposite, all the while eyeing 
 them with looks of distrust and curiosity. 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 501 
 
 The Kabbi goes to him, and inquires if he wishes to 
 have his will executed. Then each one of the Jews pro- 
 poses, in turn, to perform this service. The miser refuses, 
 and points to Leah. 
 
 She gets up at once, and taking a Portfolio from the 
 shelf, says, "Dear father, thy child is ready to write." 
 The Jews draw closely around her, as if afraid of treach- 
 ery even at the hour of death. The old man, greatly to 
 the amazement of all, raises himself without assistance, 
 and sitting up in bed, with a strong and clear voice, 
 speaking slowly, and with great distinctness, begins ; 
 while Leah writes out his jargon in plain English. 
 
 " I, Levi Nathan, do will and bequeath to the people 
 living in this house, fifty thousand dollars, to be divided 
 among them. I leave to my daughter Hagar the sum of 
 fifty thousand dollars, and will her, with this money, to 
 my clerk, Moses Isaacs. If they do not marry, it is for- 
 feited, and reverts to my daughter Leah. I bequeath to 
 the man Murdoch my thanks for his services to my family. 
 I leave to Charles Conrad Murray, one hundred thousand 
 dollars, by way of restitution for injuries sustained by 
 him at my hands. I bequeath to my dear affectionate 
 daughter Leah, for her faithful care of me ; and because 
 now, as I am about to yield up the ghost, I feel that 
 every act and motive of her life has been just and upright ; 
 I bequeath to her two hundred thousand dollars, and my 
 consent for her to marry whomsoever she pleases I also 
 will to her this house, with all its stories and compart- 
 ments, including store rooms, offices, cells, prisons, etc. : 
 and lastly, all property that shall remain after the dis- 
 bursing of the aforementioned sums." 
 
 He reaches out, takes the paper and pen, and with a 
 steady hand affixes his signature. Then fell back on 
 his pillow, and closed his eyes. The will was attested. 
 
502 
 
 T IT E N IGHT W ATCH. 
 
 and sealed. Then the Jews drop off, looking sullen and 
 dissatisfied. 
 
 Poor old Mordecai Faggot never speaks but once again. 
 He raises his head, and peers curiously around the room; 
 then fixing his eyes on the two candles burning, cries out, 
 " Oh ! oh ! I sail be ruin ! I sail be ruin. Put out one 
 of dem candle. Oh ! oh ! T sail be ruin ; " and with this 
 effort of expiring nature, he breathed his last in the arms 
 of his daughter. Truly. " the ruling passion is strong in 
 death. 11 
 
 Murdoch knew too well the disposition of the miserable 
 horde hid about in the Jews' Quarter, to leave the place 
 unguarded. He sets a strong watch in that room, and 
 men were also stationed about the premises. The funeral 
 takes place in a large, gloomy old room, just below the 
 miser's den. This apartment had always been used as the 
 secret council chamber. 
 
 It is over; and the dutiful daughter has witnessed the 
 last rites, and paid the last tribute of respect to his 
 memory. 
 
 The question now arises, where is all this money to be 
 found? Mr. Nathan never made any deposits. He had 
 during the last year gathered in his funds with heavy 
 usury. Since which time, he had refused to give out any 
 more loans. No one has any knowledge of his business. 
 He never had a friend or confident. Then where is this 
 money? None can answer; at least no one does. Con- 
 jecture and speculation have both been exhausted. At 
 last it settles down into the conviction that the poor old 
 creature had carried out his mischievous and malicious 
 principles of fraud and treachery even in death — this 
 being his final and grand hoax. 
 
THE NIGHT W A T C H . 
 
 508 
 
 CHAPTEE XLV. 
 
 "THE HAPPY FAMILY." 
 
 'Hope with a goodly prospect feeds the eye, 
 Shows from a rising ground possession nigh/' 
 
 " What deemed they now of the future or the past ? 
 The present, like a tyrant, held them fast," 
 
 Four months have elapsed since the exciting events 
 recorded in the last chapter. We hear nothing more from 
 the Jews' Quarter. Dr. Walter Joeelyn and Emma have 
 called to see Marianna. It is well for the latter that she 
 is innocent and self-satisfied, as well as absorbed in her 
 own prospect of happiness. That crimson spot on the 
 young man's cheek; that agitated hand and tremulous 
 voice, reveal a tale of only smothered affection. 
 
 He again insists on waiving his claims as a legatee to the 
 estate of John Grlencoe. But Marianna as firmly declines, 
 when Minny and Dr. Brown expostulated with her on 
 this obduracy. Seeing that it is a source of grief to 
 Walter, she shakes her head and says: "I could not eat 
 the bread purchased with that man's money. ISTo ! rather 
 let me return to the hovel and be pinched, and almost 
 starved, as I was then, than forced to rear my child on 
 his means." 
 
 Dr. Brown has been persuaded to take possession of 
 Col. Murray's splendid mansion. So they all live there 
 together in perfect peace. They are spoken of by all who 
 visit them as the "happy family." It is generally believed 
 that Marianna has inherited an immense fortune. Her 
 bright, beautiful, and cheerful face bears them out in this 
 
504 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 conclusion. She dresses in tasteful, handsome style; 
 richly, but still with chaste simplicity. 
 
 The improved manner of living, and the general appear- 
 ance of the good little "Dr. Brown and family, induces the 
 verdict among the clever ones, that he also, by some for- 
 tuitous circumstance, has gotten possession of that oil 
 which makes the car of worldly popularity move on so 
 nicely. It is not true. The Doctor attends to his profes- 
 sional duties as unremittingly, and his collecting, as closely 
 as ever. Yet he is more charitable. He can now afford 
 this luxury of the heart. 
 
 Minny, in that great palace of a house, with all the 
 appointments and surroundings of Southern ease and 
 magnificence, is the same single-minded, honest-hearted, 
 cheerful-tempered little woman, that she was while wait- 
 ing on a customer behind the little counter of the little 
 toy-shop. She is truly the light, the life, and the joy of 
 all beholders. Now, Mrs. Calderwood and the other par- 
 asitical hangers-on, flock to see her. She receives them 
 with an easy graciousness which is marvelous. She is 
 not elated. She feels no pride or exultation about any 
 of those things which the world can give or take away. 
 Her peace is built on a firmer foundation — yea, fixed on 
 the " rock of ages." 
 
 Marianna would be the nucleus in the gay, fashionable 
 
 world in the capital of , did she consent to accept 
 
 the homage of these summer friends. She is exceedingly 
 beautiful, refined, elegant, and accomplished. But she 
 turns coldly from all. demonstrations of the kind to her 
 little home circle, and giving her hand to Murray, while 
 she encircles her child and grandmother in a tender 
 embrace, looks round on the " Happy Family," and 
 says : 
 
 " This is my world. Nay, I fear it is more; surely it is 
 heaven on earth ! God forgive me, if I sin in forgetting 
 that there has ever been sorrow and suffering among us ! 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 505 
 
 There is now but one draw-back. Happy are they who 
 have not many." 
 
 The little Clarence — gladly would his friends with- 
 draw him from the theater. But Mr. Gooch was the 
 "good Samaritan," in those fearful times ; and he has, by 
 his generous, gentlemanly conduct, taken such deep hold 
 on the hearts of the family, especially the child, that it 
 seems impossible to separate themselves from him. The 
 dear, grateful, affectionate boy, weeps and pines for the 
 presence of his friend. Seeing that he is truly enamored 
 of the profession, they are at length induced to give him 
 up to his benefactor. His friends are pained by this ; 
 yet they, like all others, must yield at last to the force of 
 circumstances. They console themselves by thinking 
 that it may be, after all, the boy's true vocation. 
 
 Marian na and Murray are both in deep mourning ; at 
 the end of this season, they are to be married. Then 
 they purpose — the "happy family" — to forma party 
 and make a visit to Minny's native city of Edinburg. 
 Walter and Emma, sweet Mary Green and her chosen 
 one, and a few other friends, will be of the number. At 
 the end of this mourning season, there will be a general 
 jubilee. It is also the time that Mr. Gooch, with some of 
 his cleverest members of the stage, have determined to 
 make the tour of Europe. Thus Marianna may not be 
 separated from her son. 
 
 Maj. Lindsay has not heard from his daughter since 
 she left the American shore, nor has he written. The 
 Governor and he are still as jolly boon-companions as 
 ever. The little great man, was married soon after the 
 elopement of his lady love — "the gorgeous Gertrude," as 
 he continues to call her. The reader has already seen 
 that the sudden disappearance of his favorite, made no 
 break in the routine of his pursuits of pleasure or busi- 
 ness. 
 
 To-day he and the major have called to pay their 
 '43 
 
50b T IT E N I OHT W A TCH , 
 
 respects to the ladies. To Minny's inquiring after his 
 daughter, he answers gruffly, " I know little or nothing 
 about them, madam — have not heard since they went 
 abroad. Yet I feel no anxiety, or at all events, no uneasi- 
 ness. She has fallen into good hands; and thank God! 
 I believe she has, at last, met with a master-spirit. She 
 was a perfect autocrat at home. I don't know how she 
 will stand the curb bit though;" and he looked down 
 thoughtfully while he added, almost sadly, " that Josiah 
 Gaines is the very Deil in obstinacy, when he sets his 
 head to it. Yet I should not mind that ; I suppose the 
 fellow always loved her, with all her faults ; and is hon- 
 orable withal. But, Governor," said he, trying to look 
 up cheerfully, " Josiah knows what he's about in the 
 counting-room (and he forced a little laugh), and me- 
 thinks he knows how to count for himself sometimes. 
 Eh? major." 
 
 Gertrude to Minny. 
 
 London, June 10th, 18 — 
 " My Dear Madam — May I take the liberty of addressing 
 a few lines to a stranger ? I am driven to it by my great 
 anxiety to hear from home. Not one line have I received 
 or one word heard, since the night I left. Mrs. Brown, I 
 am very unhappy; and from what I heard of you before 
 I left home, I know you possess a good heart and bound- 
 less sympathy for the wretched. Do not think this 
 miserable state of things arises from disagreements with 
 my husband. Not so, I assure you. I would not venture 
 on such an experiment. I would not even hazard the 
 expression of a difference of opinion on any subject of 
 importance. And if I did, it would not avail me any- 
 thing. He is so clever, so exceedingly clever and smart ! 
 Did you ever know my husband, madam? I do believe 
 he is the smartest and cleverest man in the world. 
 
 " I am wretched, because Mr. Gaines thinks proper to 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 507 
 
 lead such a quiet, retired life. It does not suit me. You 
 know I was so much sought at home, such a belle. I do 
 not say this boastingly, but rather with regret, since it is 
 now all forever broken up. Oh ! I did queen it over the 
 beaux so delightfully. I feel assured that you are almost 
 ready to weep over my troubles — you, who are so 
 sympathetic. Do you not think it dreadful, that I am 
 compelled to lead this humdrum life? 
 
 " Why, madam, would you believe it? I am here the 
 same ' Gorgeous Gertrude^ in the midst of gay, dashing gal- 
 lants — counts, viscounts, lords, and dukes — who all look 
 as if they admired me. In fact, their eyes declare it 
 every moment. Well, would you believe it? that Ae, my 
 husband — this clever one — has never left my side long 
 enough to give them an opportunity to ratify with their 
 tongues what their eyes so openly declare. Oh ! This is 
 torture ! and I sometimes think I shall get to hate Gaines, 
 if — if — I — I (it will out) was not afraid of him. ISTow, 
 I have admitted to you what I would not to anybody else 
 on the face of the earth. I would not have Josiah to 
 know it for a million of dollars. 
 
 " There is still another annoyance. I have a great many 
 calls from some of the first gentlemen in the world. But, 
 (could you believe that any man would be such a brute ?) 
 I have never been allowed to receive one of them, without 
 that everlasting fixture at my elbow. I am so outraged by 
 this system of espionage, that I hate him, and feel like I 
 could kill him and myself too. It would not have been thus, 
 had I married Col. Murray, instead of my father's clerk. 
 
 " But you would never think, that this calm, dignified, 
 self-possessed, self-sustained, and maybe sometimes a lit- 
 tle bit self-sufficient American gentleman, and Maj. Lind- 
 say's second clerk, Josiah Gaines, were one and the same. 
 You can not understand, I presume, how he could come 
 to London and glide into such a position so easily, fresh 
 from the counting house : where that everlasting appen- 
 
508 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 dage, the pen over the ear, was the only adornment of 
 the outside of that clever head — the only circumstance 
 to break the eternal monotony of those smooth, precise, 
 hateful, flaxen locks. Sometimes when those real noble- 
 men are showing such deference to the opinions of this 
 New World banker, I am almost tempted to tell them of 
 it. But then, Mrs. Brown, there must always have been 
 a great deal more in the inside of that head than any of 
 us ever suspected ; else he could not have thus taken his 
 place at once among the great folks. He seems really to 
 be as much at home here, and as much at his ease, as my 
 
 Lord W , who by the by, I must tell you about. 
 
 " I have known for some time, by the expression of his 
 fine black eyes (Oh, how I do admire black eyes and black 
 locks now), that in his secret soul he was languishing for 
 me ; but Josiah has never given him an opportunity to tell 
 me so. Well, Ann, my same maid, is with me still. She 
 is free, of course ; but no matter, Ann came into my room 
 this morning, when the hateful old Josiah was tossing up 
 the brat, the young Josiah. Did you know we had a 
 child? This was most unexpected, as well as unwelcome. 
 I never premeditated such an outrage on my fine form, I 
 assure you. And now, my dear Mrs. Brown, I can scarcely 
 breathe while I write. I feel so much shame, rage, and 
 mortification at the atrocity. Don't you think the wretch 
 makes me nurse my own child ? Yes, makes it suck me. 
 I believe that is what the plebeians call it. Then he will 
 sit by and watch the process, and gloat over it as the thing 
 draws draught after draught from my bosom ; which you 
 know, of course, must inevitably be spoiled (and this was 
 the joy and pride of my life). Ann says I am the subject 
 of ridicule with all the abigails, who say such a thing is 
 an unheard-of vulgarity in high life. He must know 
 that I hate him, as he sits by toying with the child ; ever 
 and anon placing its little old hand on my bare breast. 
 Then I can't refrain from a shudder, and Josiah shouts 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 509 
 
 out in a great laugh and repeats it. But I must stand it 
 all ; I can make nothing by talking. Oh ! if he would 
 only quarrel with me, it would help me some. But when- 
 ever I quarrel with him, he stands quite still, folds his 
 arms, and, when I have got through, smiles, that same 
 dry, quiet, provoking, American sort of smile (I don't 
 think they smile so in high life abroad), tips his hat to me 
 and leaves, locking the door after him. That day and the 
 the next, and for as many daj^s as I am wretched (he calls 
 it sullen), my meals are sent up to me. Then I am not 
 invited to attend the opera or any place of amusement, 
 until I am forced by sheer weariness to kiss him, and ask 
 his pardon. All this I must do voluntarily ; he would 
 not make the least advance toward a reconciliation to 
 save my life. Now, madam, what do you think I get in 
 return for this wondrous condescension? Nothing, but 
 one of those aforesaid smiles and a cool kiss on the fore- 
 head. Then our lives fall into the same course as before ; 
 which is so smooth and tame, because of its perpetual 
 smoothness. 
 
 " Saints and angels ! I had quite forgotten what I had 
 set out to say. Ann came into my dressing room as I 
 said. Josiah was there. I suppose he could read in her 
 face that she had some secret for me. (Oh ! it is a great 
 misfortune for a woman to have too clever a husband.) 
 
 " He walked right up to her and said, 'Ann, there is a 
 vessel to leave to-morrow for the port of New Orleans. 
 Do you wish to return to the United States? ' 
 
 " ' Lawsy me ! No, Mas'r Josiah ; I don't want to leave 
 Mis Gutty.' 
 
 £t ' Then give me that letter, and don't open your mouth, 
 or you go on board in ten minutes.' 
 
 "I believe she was about to obey my look and deny it, 
 but he fixed his eye on her, and she handed him a letter 
 without saying a word. It was a beautiful pink, embossed, 
 perfumed envelop. He read it all through, without the 
 
510 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 least emotion, then quietly lighted a taper, and held the 
 letter over it. But seeming suddenly to recollect himself, 
 he put it into his pocket. I could have seen him con- 
 sumed, and felt, myself, as if I should ignite. 
 
 "He looked at me, and smiled as placidly as ever; then 
 walking up to me, folded his arms, and said : 1 !N"ow, don't 
 get excited over it, Gertrude. I am convinced, from 
 under the man's own hand, that you have not invited this 
 insult by word or deed ; bat in future I shall require you 
 to guard your eyes.' 
 
 " He then turned to the nurse who held the child, took 
 the babe in his arms, embraced him very tenderly, touched 
 his hat to me, and left the room, calling Ann after him. 
 In fifteen minutes more she was on board of that vessel. 
 I never saw her again. A new maid was immediately 
 installed in her place. 
 
 " That afternoon, as I sat moodily alone, watching the 
 big drops as they pattered on the window, and mingling 
 my tears with the rain (in imagination), I heard a con- 
 fused noise of many voices and trampling of feet. Then 
 the door flew open, and my wounded husband was brought 
 in on a litter, in a fainting condition. He had challenged 
 
 Lord W , just for writing me a letter. I do not think 
 
 Col. Murray would have cared if I had gotten one every 
 day. After all, I believe it is the easiest and safest w^ay 
 to marry a man like him, who would not love his wife 
 enough to make him care what she said, or what she 
 might be tempted to do. 
 
 u The ball has been extracted, and I think he will get 
 well. I believe I hope he may. My dear Mrs. Brown, 
 strange as it may seem to you, although Josiah keeps me 
 so in a strait-jacket all the time, I can't help but respect 
 him greatly ; and sometimes I almost admire him. I 
 rather think I quite do, since he has been laying here so 
 patient and resigned under his sufferings. He has never 
 once upbraided me, or even by innuendo, alluded to the 
 
T II E NIG H T W A T C H 
 
 611 
 
 past. So sometimes, in spite of my resolves, I tind myself 
 liking him. I fear I shall be weak enough to love him 
 even, if he don't quit showing off such sublime traits of 
 character; in a small way, you know. I don't wish you 
 to think, Mrs. Brown, that he has become a hero to me, 
 because he maimed my noble lover for life, and got shot 
 himself. Many a coward has done as much. But the 
 marvel is, how can he lie here, day after day, without 
 repining — scarce so much as groaning — and never once 
 accusing, or quarreling with me. You must admit, 
 madam, that this is very touching. I could almost weep 
 when I look at him. 
 
 " Do write to me. I should very much like to be 
 
 informed of a few things. Poor Gov ! How did he 
 
 stand my treatment of him ? I felt more regret at deceiv- 
 ing him than aught else. My father ever loved his wine, 
 quite as well as he did his daughter. I knew this, and it 
 drove me to many a reckless act. His indifference, Mrs. 
 Murray's counsel, and my own vanity, made me what I 
 was and am. How long after that premeditated alarm of 
 fire, was it before my soi disant lover, Col. Charles Conrad 
 Murray, turned up again ? Apropos, what has become 
 of that pretty milliner, way down on Market street? The 
 brat, young Josiah, is squalling ; and the man, old Josiah, 
 is groaning ; so I must bid you adieu. Of course you will 
 not delay your response. 
 
 1 Gertrude Gaines." 
 
512 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE JEWESS. 
 
 " Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes. 
 Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies/' 
 
 " Her overpowering presence made you feel, 
 It would not be idolatry to kneel." 
 
 Twelve months more have glided by, nothing of con- 
 sequence occurring in the happy family to mar its har- 
 mony. The joint preparations for the marriage and 
 voyage, are progressing easily and smoothly. This per- 
 fect holiday of the feelings, has been enjoyed to its full 
 extent. Marianna is growing more and more beautiful 
 every day. Murray is almost sublime in his peculiar style 
 of fine looks. Minny, her dear Gabe, and the little Myra, 
 are happy; then, of course, pretty, in their several differ- 
 ent ways. They have planned that Lucy May and little 
 Jenny Brown shall give up the toy shop, and become 
 inmates of the mansion, in order to watch over and afford 
 companionship to the two old ladies. Old Mrs. Glencoe 
 is still hale, cheerful, and happy ; but the old grandam, 
 Mrs. Dun, is very fragile. 
 
 A few days preceding the wedding of our friends, the 
 following note is received : 
 
 " Col. Murray — Dear Sir : — I am ordered by one in 
 authority, to invite you and all your household, to an 
 entertainment at her residence to-morrow evening. But 
 first, there is business to transact. Come at eight o'clock 
 to the store of Nathan & Co., in the Jews' Quarter. I 
 will meet you there, and conduct you to the presence 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 513 
 
 of the hostess. Fail not to come. It is of vital impor- 
 tance to many. I am directed to say, that every member 
 of your domestic circle is invited. 
 
 Yours very respectfully, John Murdoch." 
 
 This note excited much interest, and not a little specu- 
 lation, with some commotion, in that quiet, peaceful, 
 household. 
 
 " Why, how is this, wife ? " says the little Doctor, 
 " Murdoch come to life again ? It is now a year since we 
 have seen or heard of him. During that long interval, 
 the rich, sonorous voice of the Night Watch, proclaim- 
 ing that great lie, * All's well,' has not been heard. Has 
 he, think you, been 4 Sunning his heart in beauty's eyes,' 
 after his cold sojourn in the shades of night?" 
 
 At the appointed time, they were en route to that same 
 old gloomy court. Murdoch was in waiting, and led them 
 not up that mysterious spiral stair-way, from the blind 
 alley, but a new, broad, modern stair-case, to that marble 
 paved hall ; thence to the magnificent saloon. They are 
 invited by him to sit, while he excuses himself, and leaves 
 the room. 
 
 In a few moments, Leah comes out, leaning on his arm, 
 dressed in deep mourning. She embraces Marianna and 
 Minny affectionately, shakes hands with the gentlemen 
 cordially ; nay, turns her cheek to Murray to kiss. Few 
 words are passed in idle conversation, and conventional 
 compliment. There is a deep shadow resting on the face 
 of the beautiful girl. 
 
 " My friends," said she, u you all knew my father, and he 
 was odious to you for many things ; but he was my parent, 
 and since the death of my mother, I have had the care of 
 him. Low and groveling as old Faggot, the Jew peddler 
 and miser, must have appeared to you ; yet in his better 
 existence, and under his true name, Levi Nathan, he was 
 sometimes susceptible of generous impulses, and did per- 
 
514 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 form good actions. But alas ! you see how it is, the crimes 
 and misdeeds of the miscreant Faggot are heralded 
 abroad, and registered in your hearts, while the bene- 
 factions of the clothing merchant, Levi Nathan, go unre- 
 corded. It is the way of the Christian world ; I do not 
 blame you." 
 
 There was an inexpressibly touching pathos in her 
 voice and manner, and a ravishing grandeur in her beauty, 
 while she discanted so feelingly on the characteristics of 
 her parent. She had ceased speaking, being overcome 
 by her emotions ; and now, as she resumed the subject, 
 she raised those large, lustrous eyes, and they are suffused 
 w^ith gentle tears. 
 
 " I have called you together this evening, my friends, 
 with a two-fold purpose-— to witness two rites," and she 
 blushed again. " First, by the aid of my early friend 
 here," laying her hand on Murdoch's arm, " I shall endea- 
 vor to carry out the wishes, and obey the last injunctions 
 of my poor father, as well as to comply with his written 
 will. It was his wish, his dying request, that one whole 
 year should elapse before there should be any steps taken 
 to bring to light the treasures so long and so wearily 
 hoarded together, and secreted somewhere, no one knew 
 how- or in what place. I alone was advised of the mys- 
 terious hiding-place." 
 
 She now led the way to the room so often described in 
 these papers, and taking from her bosom a silver whis- 
 tle, drew from it a shrill note, which was immediately 
 answered by the young Jew, Isaacs, and a rather pretty 
 girl, with remarkably smooth, fair skin, and short, black 
 hair. When she met the gaze of Marianna, she colored, 
 and the same sinister, vindictive expression gleamed 
 from her eyes and revealed the secret. 
 
 Marianna was so much surprised, that she was about to 
 utter an exclamation, when Leah glided by, and looking 
 significantly into her face, whispered, u Not a word, lady ; 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 515 
 
 on thy life, do not speak. Ignorance is worth more than 
 wisdom within these walls. Be warned." 
 
 Again she sounds the whistle, and four grave, genteel- 
 looking Jews enter. A large table is placed in the center 
 of the floor. They surround it. Leah talks to them for 
 a moment in their own tongue, and they take their seats 
 on opposite sides of the table, each being furnished with 
 a small blue glass bowl of w^ater. Then that large, old, 
 iron-bound trunk is dragged forth from beneath that heap 
 of rubbish, which looks as if it had been accumulating 
 from the first moment of time. 
 
 Leah again gives the sign, and those iron bands are 
 w T renched off by that Yulcan hand. The padlock is 
 removed at a blow. Aye! our friend, the Night Watch, 
 does not lack strength of hand or head when occasion 
 calls. All now is intense expectation and curiosity. Leah 
 kneels, the more for convenience. She essays to open the 
 trunk, but is overcome by her feelings, and is obliged to 
 turn away and once more pay the tribute of grief and 
 shame to the memory of the father and the miser. 
 
 The lid is raised ; but who can describe the blank dis- 
 appointment which ensues? There seems to be only a 
 few old clothes, pantaloons, vests, coats, etc., all very care- 
 fully folded. The girl takes them out, and lays them, 
 with a feeling of awe and reverence, on the floor. Now 
 there is nothing left but the empty tray. 
 
 She touches a secret spring, and one compartment flies 
 open. And then there is a simultaneous exclamation of 
 wonder. Piles of gold — pieces of every size, from the 
 one dollar to the fifty — meet their eyes. Murdoch and 
 the young Isaacs hand it to the men at the table, who on 
 their part fall to counting, without a word being spoken. 
 When the gold is all taken out, and its value duly estim- 
 ated and recorded, she touches another spring, and a sec- 
 ond partition opens, which is filled with bank notes and 
 title deeds. They go on with the same process ; the table 
 
516 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 is piled up. Again and again, hidden recesses are opened 
 by Leah, and their treasures dislodged. Then those old 
 clothes are made to yield up their secrets. Every pocket, 
 and facing, and hem is rife with the precious metal, or no 
 less precious paper. This was also handed over to the 
 men at the table. 
 
 Leah then goes to that mass of disgusting rubbish, and 
 points out another chest, which Murdoch drags to the 
 light ; and the same operation of counting and register- 
 ing is gone through with. There are also old vessels of 
 household use filled with small coin, the common currency 
 of the day. Yet this poor old wretch had denied him- 
 self a sufficient quantity of the proper sustenance of life. 
 Reader, you have seen him in his various characters. I 
 can not stop for commentaries ; though I know they should 
 be made, "to point a moral, as well as adorn a tale." But 
 all this has been done by higher and abler predecessors. 
 I therefore forbear to draw this draft on your patience, 
 but rather check on your imagination. 
 
 JSTow this immense estate is duly disposed of to the sev- 
 eral legatees. All arrangements, both for convenience 
 and security, had been made by the provident Leah and 
 the shrewd, practical Murdoch. 
 
 It is finished; the last will and testament of Faggot the 
 miser, and Nathan the Jew, has been executed. The 
 guests are invited back to the saloon, and while their feel- 
 ings seek repose after those exciting scenes, they recline 
 on luxurious sofas, lounges, etc. They are lulled by the 
 plaintive notes of the night bird, and soothed by the 
 refreshing murmur of falling waters from the alabaster 
 fountains. Ail within those orientally gorgeous rooms is 
 strange, wild, and beautiful. Sweet music floats on the 
 perfumed air, steals over the senses, tranquilizing and 
 entrancing. Now it is nearer, and losing its vagueness, 
 breathes a low and mournful strain. 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 517 
 
 " Oil ! that strain again ; it had a dying fall : 
 And came o'er my ear like the sweet south 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 Stealing and giving odor/' 
 
 It is a lament, a requiem. J^ow it swells louder and 
 louder, until it burst on the rapt ear in a full chord. Pre- 
 sently this breaks into a rich chorus of human voices. 
 One full, clear, but melodious voice leads ; while the con- 
 cert of singers bring in the refrain. The following simple 
 but touching lines are improvised by Leah : 
 
 "My task is o'er: Fve done my best 
 To carry out thy known behest : 
 The wish to make some small amend 
 For sorrows which thy acts did send. 
 
 Chorus : But lie in peace, and take thy rest, 
 
 Until thou wak'st on Abraham's breast. 
 
 " The world despised thee, my sire, 
 Would have thee cast into that fire — 
 Where wicked, bad, and ruthless men 
 Writhe, shriek, and curse ; but groan amen. 
 Chorus : But lie in peace, etc. 
 
 " But we thy children, know that thou 
 Wast not all bad ; and well we trow 
 Of many a deed in secret done, 
 Unseen by all but that great One. 
 Chorus : But lie in peace, etc. 
 
 »' Peace to thy shade, deluded one ; 
 And in that grave where thou art gone, 
 Mayst thou in quiet take thy rest, 
 Until thou wak'st on Abraham's breast. 
 Chorus : But lie in peace, etc." 
 
 When the music ceased, then succeeded an interval of 
 delicious repose. The senses are soothed, and the fancy 
 is reveling in Elysian groves. " Surely," exclaimed Mur- 
 ray, "this is Paradise, and the place we have left is 
 
518 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 Hades." They were aroused by the receding of the oppo- 
 site wall, displaying the banquet-room. I shall not ven- 
 ture on a description of this magnificent fete. 
 
 A party dressed in festive robes of pure white, advanced. 
 A lady, adorned simply in India muslin ; her long, black 
 hair hanging in graceful ringlets to her waist, adorned by 
 a wreath of natural orange blossoms. She wears no other 
 ornaments, no gems. She is leaning on the arm of a dark, 
 handsome, majestic, real " Cceur-de-Leon" looking man, 
 who is also dressed with great simplicity, though in the 
 finest black cloth. They advanced to the center of the 
 room, and take their station under the gorgeous chande- 
 lier, which sends out its rays from an hundred wax candles. 
 
 Another couple follow ; but they are in marked contrast 
 to the first. These seem to have aimed to rival the nobles 
 of the " Yale of Cashmere," in regal splendor of apparel. 
 The girl, who is rather small and slight, is dressed in a 
 robe of fine blond lace, wrought all over with silver and 
 pearls. On her head she wears a tiara of diamond, a 
 necklace to suit, pin, ear-rings, etc. Her fingers are 
 literally weighed down with jewels. The gentleman is 
 dressed in keeping. They come from another door, and 
 like the first couple, take their place in the center. 
 
 From another sliding panel the Eabbi in his robes 
 and high cap comes, followed by a large company of their 
 own people, maids matrons, young men and old, youths 
 and children, all having on the wedding garments. He 
 raises his hand aloft, and that large assembly kneel. A 
 prayer is pronounced, and as he opened the book, they 
 rise to their feet, all save the two couples, who remain 
 on their knees. The ceremony is performed according to 
 the Jewish rites. 
 
 It is over, and the high priest holds out his hand for 
 them to kiss. When the greetings are gotten through 
 with among themselves, Leah and Murdoch approach our 
 friends, who embrace her affectionately, and utter heart- 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 519 
 
 felt congratulations to both. The other pair keep aloof. 
 Leah, now Mrs. Murdoch, whispers a few words to Mur- 
 ray ; then he and his party advance, and are presented to 
 Mr. and Mrs. Isaacs. After which, they are invited into 
 the banquet. Then they adjourn to the saloon, and there 
 converse with Leah and Murdoch about many things, 
 embracing the present, past, and future. The other couple 
 come not near, but mingle with their own people, and 
 enjoy themselves in their own way, according to their 
 peculiar usages. 
 
 The friends take an affectionate leave of Leah and 
 Murdoch ; after pressing them to make a visit, Minny 
 and her dear Gabe, propose an early evening, or a day ; 
 but Murdoch refers them to his wife. 
 
 She shakes her head somewhat sadly. " Dear friend, 
 we have many duties yet to perform ; thou wilt excuse 
 us." To the entreaty of Marianna and Murray, she 
 replies, laying her soft little hand on his arm : " If the 
 time should ever come, when I can do thee a service, then 
 thou wilt not have to use persuasion, and shalt not find 
 me backward. Till then I pray thee hold us excused." 
 
 So they are forced to leave without a promise of further 
 communication. 
 
520 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION. 
 
 *' Oh ! married love ! each heart shall own, 
 
 When two congenial souls unite, 
 Thy golden chains inlaid with down, 
 
 Thy lamp with heaven's own splendor bright." 
 
 44 Then come the wild weather — come sleet or come snow, 
 We will stand by each other, however it blow ; 
 
 Oppression and sickness, and sorrow and pain, 
 Shall be to our true love as links to the chain." 
 
 A happy assemblage of ten or a dozen persons, are 
 grouped about the cabin of a noble vessel, destined, in a 
 short time, to plow the Atlantic ocean. The hour, toward 
 the decline of day, " When evening draws her crimson 
 curtains on." Ave Maria ! blessed be that hour. The 
 sun has lost his rage, and in his downward course, sends 
 only animating warmth, and vital luster. The sails are 
 napping lazily in this soft, seductive, vesper breeze ; all is 
 in a state of readiness, but they await the propitious 
 breath of heaven to waft them on their way. What a 
 delicious, enchanting hour it is without and within that 
 ship's cabin. Is it not blessed ? 
 
 At a table, in the center of a long narrow floor, are 
 seated four young persons, engaged in some innocent 
 game of chance ; they make the w^alls ring with their 
 hilarious mirth. Our special favorite and friend, Doctor 
 Walter Jocelyn, has for the nonce, exchanged his pretty 
 bride Emma, for the no less interesting one of Mr. Miles 
 (our own sweet Mary Green). They are partners at some 
 mimic game of checkered life. 
 
 i 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 521 
 
 At the far end of the room, another couple are stand- 
 ing apart, fondly watching two beautiful children, as they 
 ever and anon bound lightly into the lap of a fine-look- 
 ing, rather stout, middle aged negress. She puts an arm 
 around each, while they kiss her tawny cheeks and lips, 
 and pat her face and neck caressingly; then the children 
 kiss each other. 
 
 "O Aunt Molly!" said the little Clarence, "I am so 
 glad to see you, and I do love you so dearly. I have so 
 often heard poor mamma and grandma talk and weep over 
 the good and bad times they used to see together with 
 you. They thought I was asleep, but I noted it all down ; 
 because something whispered to me that I should live to 
 see the good creature myself, and so you see I have. 
 Mamma used to mourn and lament so, because she could 
 not have you to nurse me, too : and now think of it, the 
 good God has sent you back to us, and you have got to 
 raise me, when Mr. Gooch is not raising me, and my lit 
 tie cousin, or rather sister Genevieve. Yevy, you must 
 love Aunt Molly with all your might. It would be a 
 great stn, child, not to do so, and call her mammy, as I 
 shall. And you see, little one, I am older than you. 'ISTo, 
 I am not, but I ought to be, w^hich is the same thing ; 
 therefore you must mind all I say to you ; will you not, 
 dear little Yevy?" and he kissed her again. 
 
 u K~ow, mammy, you must tell us how you got aw r ay 
 from them overseers and all? Aunt Molly, they didn't 
 dare to use you ill, did they? " And the boy looks defi- 
 antly and menacingly into space, as he clenched his lit- 
 tle fist, 
 
 " Oh never mind all that, honey, what's done is done, 
 and thar's no undoing it. Bless God ! child, I run'd away. 
 I no sooner hear the news that Miss Pet w r as 'live, had 
 come up to life — for she was once dead and buried, that's 
 sartain as the sparks fly downward — I say, I no sooner 
 git this information than old Molly Wise sets her wits to 
 >. 44 
 
522 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 work to circumvention 'em. I didn't know I should find the 
 dear critter in such a good quarters. I did 'spect to find 
 her subluged in all sorts of sorrows, like as theretofore. 
 But, bless God ! my poor, dear, darling pet lamb done got 
 to the right fold, in the true and proper sheeps-cote at 
 last ; and now this old nigger is jes gwine to follow you 
 all to the end of the yarth. Yes indeed, life and death, 
 and principalities, and powers, is never gwine to separate 
 me from her agin." 
 
 Just then a beautiful, sandy-haired child pulled away 
 from* its pretty little dot of a mother, who was sitting 
 near, contemplating the merry trio, and toddling toward 
 the good old nurse, held out her little arms, imploring to * 
 be taken up. 
 
 As the affectionate creature stooped to raise her, she 
 says, u Bless God ! honey, who child this ? I jes b'lieve 
 this town is full of darlin' pretty children. Who is it, 
 honey Clarry ? " 
 
 Why, mammy, that is my little wife. In a few years 
 more, I am going to marry her ; and now I think of it, 
 you must raise her for me too, just like you did mamma. 
 I want you to make her as much like my own and her 
 own mother as ever you can." 
 
 Marianna is hanging on the arm of her husband. She 
 looks up in his face with a look of ineffable love, as she 
 murmurs, " Conrad ! my great, my good, my adored 
 husband! Can it last ?• Can such entire, such complete 
 happiness last ? I am alarmed at my fullness of joy. I 
 tremble, I almost fear to breathe, lest it shall be swept 
 away. Blame me not, dear friend, the past has, you 
 know, been so fearful." He drew her nearer to him, and 
 replied by repeating those felicitous lines : 
 
 " An hour like this is worth a thousand passed 
 In pomp or ease ; 'tis present to the last. 
 Years glide by untold — 'tis still the same, 
 As fresh, as fair as on the day it came." 
 
T H E NIGH T VV A TOH. 
 
 523 
 
 Minny and Doctor Brown now join our wedded lovers, 
 and seeing a drop force its way from under those beauti- 
 ful lids, she exclaims, in affected amazement, " Aweel, 
 aweel, Myra weeping ! I wad na hae thought it. See, 
 dear Gabe, the puir thing is so used to tears, that she 
 must e'en weep because there is nae mair cause for sor- 
 row ; greeting because she is happy. Aweel, aweel." 
 
 " Well," said Gabriel, laughing, " I had thought that 
 tall, grand, dark-looking youth there by her side would 
 wipe all tears from her eyes. How is it, sir ? Does your 
 love cool by possession so soon ? Come, come, a truce 
 with all glamouring." 
 
 " Ah ! niver fash, niver fash, as Mrs. Brown says; you 
 just look to your own eyes, friend Gabriel," said Murray. 
 "All's well here." 
 
 " Aweel, Mrs. Murray, I never did, as ye know, reply 
 to that letter I received from Mrs. Josiah Gaines, until 
 to-day. Here it is ; if ye or the colonel wad like to add 
 a word by way o' postcript, ye ken ye can do sae now." 
 She hands them the letter, which Marianna reads aloud. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Josiah Gaines — I trust ye will pardon 
 this seeming neglect. I hope ye can do sae freely, being 
 as ye are now at the head o' the family, and also a mither ; 
 which duties ye must ken are very engrossing. And now, 
 madam, before I ramble on from the point o' the subject, 
 and may thereby forget it, let me tell you that you hae my 
 cordial sympathy, as ye did claim in your letter, but not 
 in the way ye expect. I sympathize with ye because ye 
 are amang strangers ; but I pity ye, and blame ye baith, 
 at the same time, that ye should thus shut your een to 
 your am blessed good fortune. I tak' it, ye hae got just 
 the very husband which God intended for you. And I 
 can't help but think, that he is the very man to suit your 
 case. From what ye tell me, I think it likely, with time, 
 he will bring a' the little crooks and cranks in your 
 
524 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 temper out straight. And I must further remark, Mrs. 
 Gaines, that I am filled with admiration at his calm, dig- 
 nified demeanor, as ye describe it. 
 
 u I shall not presume to offer ye any advice, well know- 
 ing that ye wad na tak' it; but just let a very happy little 
 wife whisper something in yer lugs — If ye wad be happy 
 and respected, ye maun gie up all gallavanting and seek 
 yer comforts and enjoyments at hame, in the heart o' yer 
 ain gude man, and in the bosom o' yer ain family — gie 
 over all fooling and flirting. 
 
 " Ye ask to be informed of the goings on here since ye 
 left. I have na got time to enter into lang details. But 
 to begin at the beginning. Your father seems to enjoy his 
 ain good health and spirits. He lives at the same place 
 and in the same way ; has the Governor and a few friends 
 to eat his gude dinners, and drink his fine wines every 
 Sunday as usual. The little Governor was married soon 
 after you left. Na doubt he missed you, as ye say ye 
 regretted him ; but he did na go cast down about it ; but 
 like a wise man, cured the old luve wi' the new. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Calderwood appear to be somewhat under the ban 
 of that fickle goddess, Fortune, about this present writ- 
 ing. She is, and has been, for some time, ill wi' a bad 
 cough, caught in one o' her many tramps through the 
 town alang with Miss Nancy Jones, trying to hear all 
 that £ they do say' Jones is now a fixture in the house, as 
 nurse and companion, which wad be purgatory to me. 
 They are left pretty much alone to feed on that aliment, 
 gathered at such pains. Mr. Calderwood is confined to 
 his easy -chair, flannel gown, and slippers, wi' chronic 
 gout. This, I am told, sits most uneasily on the dash- 
 ing beau and polished roue\ Miss Emma and her friend, 
 Miss Mary Green, were both married yesterday. Col. 
 Murray, salamander-like, escaped and came to light as ye 
 did predict, in due time — about the hour that his mother 
 died. He was married also yesterday, wi' the rest o' 
 
THE NIGHT WATCH. 525 
 
 them; all in St. Paul's church, by the good Dr. Mercer, 
 and to the very lady ye did inquire about — the beauti- 
 ful milliner, away down on Market street. He has come 
 into possession of an immense fortune. Murdoch, that 
 dark and handsome Night Watch — that Black Knight — 
 is also married. 
 
 " I think there is nothing else that ye asked me about. 
 In half an hour we shall sail for my ain native city of 
 Edinburg. Canna' ye come there to see us? All the 
 new married folks are of the party, and na doubt every 
 one o' them, as well as my ain sel, wad be glad to meet 
 ye over seas. Do meet us in Scotland. Present my 
 regards to your gude man, Mr. Gaines. 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 "Minny Brown." 
 
 Mr. Gooch now coming into the cabin, joins them, and 
 while they stand there, in mute happiness and rapt 
 admiration of each other, and everything else in God's 
 beautiful world, hoping and looking forward to many 
 more days of felicity on this His footstool, and feeling 
 that faith in their hearts which reaches beyond the vale, 
 they resign themselves to His care and guidance, no 
 longer, for a moment, doubting Providence. 
 
 They are recalled from their soarings by the word of 
 command from aloft, spoken through the captain's trum- 
 pet to "weigh anchor," and in a short time after, the good 
 ship is scudding before the evening gale. 
 
 " Merrily, merrily goes the bark, 
 
 On a breeze from the northward free ; 
 So shoots through the morning sky the lark, 
 Or the swan the summer sea." 
 
 THE END. 
 
1 Dec. H