UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 - 
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 A TALE OF THE PRESENT TIMES. 
 
 You shall see anon ; 'tis a knavish piece of work." 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 
 NO. 82 C L IFF- STRE K T. 
 
 1835.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1835, 
 
 By HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New- York.
 
 PS 
 
 F3-*. 
 
 v./ 
 COLONEL HERMAN THORN. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 The warm hospitality and generous attention which,. 
 during my ramblings in Europe, in common with many 
 of my countrymen, I have received from you ; the nu- 
 merous instances which have come to my knowledge of 
 the benevolence and kindness of your heart ; your liberal 
 encouragement of the arts ; and the high estimation in 
 which you are held abroad, induce me to offer you this 
 simple tribute of regard and friendship. 
 
 Permit me, therefore, to dedicate to you the following 
 pages, with only a regret that they are not more worthy* 
 I am, my dear sir, 
 
 very sincerely and respectfully, 
 your obedient servant, 
 
 THE ADTHOR. 
 
 farts, March 26th, 1835. 
 
 - 
 
 465372 
 
 English Dept

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE most improbable features of the following 
 story, viz. the leading incident and the career of 
 Clairmont, are founded on fact. The author has 
 availed himself of the license allotted to writers of 
 fiction, and transformed character at pleasure, 
 particularly that of the young lady on whose most 
 mysterious fate the story is founded. Neither has 
 he bound himself to a delineation of society as it 
 existed at the period of the real occurrence, which 
 took place many years since in New-York ; yet 
 he does not profess to have grasped the more noble 
 materials which the higher circles of his country at 
 this moment offer to the novelist, but has rather 
 sketched, perhaps with a somewhat mischievous 
 hand, certain peculiarities adapted to his purpose. 
 He frankly bespeaks the indulgence of all the 
 sapient and solemn critics. 
 
 The art of novel- writing, however long associated 
 with heart-broken boarding-school girls, and sen- 
 timental chambermaids, is now as dignified as that 
 of Canova, Mozart, or Raphael. In learning to 
 arrange a succession of heavenly sounds, to imbody 
 sweet shapes in marble, to breathe fervid beauty 
 on the easel, how many an inspired genius has
 
 10 PREFACE. 
 
 devoted all his hours. Is it not as exalted a study 
 to copy from the great world those "infinite doings" 
 of the mind and heart which make up the material 
 of human existence? 
 
 That the writer has succeeded in accomplishing 
 this, he dares not hope. As an humble student, and 
 peradventure with a feeble hand, he has thrown 
 his groupings upon the canvass, and now, like the 
 boy-painter in the " Disowned," stands concealed 
 behind the curtain, to hear, perhaps, some erudite 
 Sir Joshua say " He had better burn it !" 
 
 Paris, March 26, 1835.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An American City New-York Winter Sleighing Certain 
 Characters whom the Reader will do well to remember An 
 Incident, which perhaps he will forget before the end of the 
 book. 
 
 " 'Twas in the flush of the summer's prime, 
 
 Two hundred years ago, 
 When a ship into an unknown bay 
 Came eliding soft and slow. 
 
 ******* 
 
 All was still, on river and hill, 
 
 At the dawn of that summer's day ; 
 
 There was not a sound, save the ripple around 
 The ship, as she cut her way. 
 
 Then the sails flapp'd hack, for the wind was slack, 
 
 And the vessel lay sleeping there ; 
 And even the Dutchmen exclaimed, ' Mein Got !' 
 
 As they gazed on a scene so fair." 
 
 A Vision of the Hudson : by William Cox. 
 
 A BRILLIANT January morning broke over the 
 beautiful city of New- York. Her two magnificent 
 rivers came sweeping and sparkling down into her 
 immense bay, which, bound in like a lake on every 
 side with circling shores, rolled and flashed in the 
 unclouded sunshine. The town itself rose directly
 
 12 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 from the bosom of the flood, presenting a scene of 
 singular splendour, which, when the western con- 
 tinent shall be better known to European tourists, 
 j will be acknowledged to lose nothing by comparison 
 / with the picturesque views of Florence or Naples. 
 / Her tapering spires, her domes, cupolas, and house- 
 | tops, her forest of crowded masts, lay bristling and 
 shining in the transparent atmosphere, and beneath 
 a heaven of deep and unstained blue. The lovely 
 waters which washed three sides of the city were 
 covered with ships of all forms, sizes, and nations; 
 delighting the eye with images of grace, animation, 
 and grandeur. Huge vessels of merchandise lay 
 at rest, in large numbers, all regularly swayed 
 round from their anchors into a uniform position 
 by the heavy tide setting from the rivers to the 
 sea. Others, leaning to the wind, their swollen 
 and snowy canvass broadly spread for their flight 
 over the vast ocean, bounded forward, like youth, 
 bright and confident against the future. Some, 
 entering sea-beaten and weary from remote parts 
 of the globe, might be likened, by the contemplative, 
 to age and wisdom, pitying their bold compeers 
 about to encounter the roar and storm from which 
 they themselves were so glad to escape : and yet, 
 to carry the simile further, even as the human mind, 
 which experience does not always enlighten or 
 adversity subdue, ready, after a brief interval of 
 idleness and repose, to forget the past, and refit 
 themselves for enterprise and danger. Hundreds, 
 whose less perilous duties lay within the gates of 
 the immense harbour, plied to and fro in every 
 direction, crossing and recrossing each other, and 
 enlivening with delightful animation the broad and 
 busy scene. Of these small craft, indeed, the 
 waves were for ever whitened with an incredible 
 number, in the midst of which thundered heavily 
 the splendid and enormous steamers, beautifully
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 13 
 
 formed to shoot through the flood with arrowy 
 swiftness, their clean bright colours shining in the 
 sun, bearing sometimes a thousand persons on 
 excursions of business and pleasure, spouting forth 
 fire and steam like monstrous dragons, and leaving 
 long tracks of smoke on the blue heaven. Among 
 other evidences of a great maritime power, reposed 
 several giant vessels of war, those stern, tremen- 
 dous messengers of the deep, wafting, on the wings 
 of heaven, the thunderbolt of death across the 
 solemn world of waters ; but now lying, like for- 
 tresses, motionless on the tide, and ready to bear 
 over the globe the friendly pledges or the grave 
 demands of a nation which, in the recollection of 
 some of its surviving citizens, was a submissive 
 colony, without power and without a name. You 
 might deem the magnificent city, that lay thus 
 extended upon the flood, Venice, when that won- 
 derful republic held the commerce of the world. 
 In a greater degree, indeed, than London, notwith- 
 standing the superior amount of shipping possessed 
 by the latter, New- York at first strikes the stranger 
 entering into its harbour with signs of commercial 
 prosperity and wealth. In the mighty British 
 metropolis, the vessels lie locked in dockyards, or 
 half-buried under fog and smoke. The narrow 
 Thames presents little more than that portion actu- 
 ally in motion ; and, in a sail from Margate to town, 
 the vast number are seen only in succession : but 
 here, the whole crowded, broad, and moving pano- 
 rama breaks at once upon the eye ; and through a 
 perfectly pure and bright atmosphere nothing can 
 be more striking and exquisite. 
 
 It was a frosty winter morning, and the general 
 splendour of the scene was heightened by the fact 
 that, for some days previous, a heavy fall of snow 
 had come down silently and thickly from heaven, 
 without wind and without rain. The whole pic- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 14 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 ture was now glittering with tracts of stainless 
 white. The roofs were hidden beneath fleecy 
 masses. The trees were cased with brilliant lustre, 
 and held out their naked branches sparkling in the 
 sun. The shores, sloping down to the water's edge, 
 leaned brightly to the beams of morning. Even 
 the waves themselves bore on their bosoms, urged 
 gently along, and dashed ever and anon against 
 each other, thick cakes of snow-covered ice, which 
 had drifted down from the rivers, but yet not in 
 sufficient quantities to interrupt the navigation. 
 The roar and thunder of the town could be heard 
 from the bay, as the hundreds of thousands of her 
 citizens awoke to their accustomed occupations. 
 The shouts of artisans and tradesman, the clink of 
 hammers from the thronged and busy wharves and 
 shipyards, the inspiring " heave-yoes" with which 
 the brawny tars cheered their labours amid the 
 mass of shipping (itself a city), the clanging of 
 hoofs, the shuffling of feet, the ringing of bells, the 
 clash of voices, and all the medley of sounds pecu- 
 liar to the newly awakened concourse of a vast and 
 growing population, rose cheerfully on the air. 
 Wherever the eye wandered, it met only scenes of 
 bustle, haste, gayety, and earnest occupation. 
 
 But if the exterior of the city presented so lively 
 a .picture, the interior was yet more inspiriting. 
 Broadway, the principal street, was now the centre 
 of one of those gay and giddy scenes known only 
 to the inhabitants of cold countries, and which to 
 many offer greater attractions than the odoriferous 
 vales and plains of Italy or Asia. True, those 
 romantic climes where the human race enjoy a 
 temperature so wild and pleasant as to permit of 
 their almost dwelling in the open air even in the 
 coldest season, have, in their softer charms, some- 
 thing unspeakably sweet and alluring. Those 
 luscious ever-green valleys, those luxuriant hills,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 15 
 
 those rich slopes, clothed with the most gorgeous 
 fruits and the tenderest and deepest verdure, and, 
 more than all, those gentle and transparent skies, 
 seem beneficently designed for man in his more 
 uncivilized state, or for the poor. It must be 
 delightful for the penniless, the aged, and the house- 
 less, unable to procure clothing or fuel, to find the 
 dawn ever diffusing a genial and balmy warmth 
 over nature. The tenant of the rude and scantily 
 furnished hut flings open his window and admits 
 the fragrant sweets. Mere day is to them a gift 
 and a blessing ; the sun is their cloak and their fire. 
 Those old Italian landscapes, with the warm yellow 
 light gleaming deliciously in through an open case- 
 ment, are finely characteristic. But are we not 
 apt to magnify the advantages of this universal 
 and perpetual blandness of heaven ? True, the half- 
 clad fisherman flings himself carelessly down, and 
 sleeps upon the beach ; the beggar lies stretched 
 against a sunny wall, drying the night-dews from 
 his tattered garments, and partaking in peace the 
 slumbers which he could not enjoy beneath the less 
 benignant influence of the stars ; the wrinkled and 
 time-stricken dames, " the spinsters and the knitters 
 in the sun," bring their work in front of their cot- 
 tages, and, to see them, the pilgrim from a northern 
 clime fancies them happy as the children of Eden. 
 But I doubt whether the vigorous and enlivening 
 joys of winter are not more conducive to health 
 and happiness. An Italian vale, breathing its 
 sweetest odours, and sparkling under its pleasantest 
 sunshine, is but a dull picture compared with 
 Broadway on the bright morning after a heavy 
 fall of snow. No scene can be more full of life 
 and action. Every thing appears in a whirl of 
 delight. A spirit of joy and impulse hangs in the 
 air, pervades all the city, and pours its fires through 
 the veins of every living creature. The exhilarating
 
 16 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 atmosphere braces the limbs, quickens the step, 
 flushes the cheek, fills the eye with lustre, puts aside 
 care, thought, and dulness, and produces a high 
 state of animal enjoyment. Those old snow-storms 
 have unfortunately of later years made their 
 merry visits less frequently. The fleecy world 
 now descends in smaller quantities, and disappears 
 in a shorter period. I can fancy the rising gene- 
 ration smiling when we, of the old school, lament 
 the forms and fashions of the last century. The 
 young rogues, peradventure, may be amused by 
 wondering what value we can attach to a powdered 
 queue or a platted wristband ; but, by this hand ! 
 when the elements themselves alter and remould 
 their usages when seasons roll in different shapes, 
 when honest old Winter, instead of striding forward, 
 as was his wont, wrapped in cloak and fur, his cheek 
 glowing with the cold, and the sparry icicle glitter- 
 ing around his cap and beard, steals forward with 
 only a fashionable mantle and an umbrella Heaven 
 save the mark ! we may well lament. I cannot 
 write calmly of those glorious old snow-storms. 
 
 One of them had now descended upon New- York, 
 and the inhabitants, as the day advanced, seemed 
 conscious of no other earthly object than the enjoy- 
 ment of sleighing. Countless throngs of the wealth- 
 iest and most fashionable were gathered into that 
 broad and beautiful street, which extends three or 
 four miles in. a line straight as an arrow, its long 
 vista of elegant houses remarkable for their uniform 
 aspect of affluence and comfort, and presenting, in 
 their extreme neatness, and, particularly in. the 
 beauty of their entrances, a striking contrast to the 
 street views of Paris, with only two exceptions, 
 and to those of other continental cities without 
 any. Its world of lovely women were abroad. 
 Such rosy cheeks, such melting eyes as passed up 
 and down, that dazzling day ! Hundreds of sleighs, 
 drawn sometimes by one horse and sometimes by
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 17 
 
 four, darted by each other with the swiftness of 
 a bird's sweep ; the princely horses, fired with the 
 air and the scene, neighing, tossing their heads, 
 champing their bits, and leaping on their way, mad 
 as Bucephalus, every mother's son of them the 
 bells around their necks ringing out a music asmerry 
 and soul-stirring as the blast of a trumpet. An 
 amusement so heartily entered into by the wealthy 
 classes soon assumes an artificial hue of taste. 
 The choice of horses became a matter of the 
 utmost ambition, and the sleighs were wrought into 
 every form devisable by an elegant or a fantastic 
 fancy. Now swept by a painted boat, and now a 
 classic chariot : here darted a pearly shell, fit to 
 bear Venus over the waves ; and there, an ocean 
 car, from which father Neptune might have appro- 
 priately guided the dolphins and winged horses of 
 the sea. Nowhere are there more lovely women 
 than in those American cities. They contribute 
 largely to the fascination of this exciting sport ; 
 and neither at the ball, nor the theatre, nor the 
 midnight revel do they appear more beautiful than 
 here. Their graceful and glowing faces float by 
 with a rapidity which prevents all criticism, if not 
 all comparison. The gaze is bewildered with an 
 endless succession of lovely lips and radiant smiles, 
 and eyes which the young and sensitive of the 
 other sex, with the fidelity characteristic of ardour 
 and youth, might remember forever, but that each 
 succeeding glance heals the wound received from 
 the last. In the midst of this gay and noisy scene, 
 the pedestrians along the spacious side-walks found 
 their interest so much excited by the vast number, 
 variety, and beauty of the equipages, and their 
 charming groups, that the pavements, in their long 
 extent, were lined with animated spectators some 
 lounging slowly onward, as if reluctantly with- 
 drawing from such a pleasing spectacle, while many 
 B 2
 
 18 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 remained stationary, watching each bright car as it 
 went ringing and flashing by, and commenting 
 upon each passing company. 
 
 " See, Leslie look yonder !" cried a fashionably 
 dressed young man to his companion, whose finely 
 proportioned figure and extremely handsome face 
 had attracted more than one pair of those mis- 
 chievous eyes we spoke of. " Do you not see her ? 
 There behind the yellow sleigh in that green 
 sea-shell, with those superb horses ! Do you not 
 catch a glimpse of her now ? they have stopped to 
 address that party." 
 
 " Yes," said the other, " you are right. What a 
 queenly woman !" 
 
 " How she glows in this bracing air, and seems 
 to exult in the mere act of living ! Her cheeks 
 put poetry to shame ! I wish I were a painter, 
 Leslie." 
 
 " There are painters a plenty/' rejoined Leslie, 
 " who would despair by the face of Mrs. Temple. 
 You must be a cunning artist indeed to catch that 
 smile that air that expression. To-day she looks 
 actually radiant. Those eyes must have made 
 hearts ache in their time." 
 
 " They make mine ache yet," said Howard. 
 
 " Is not that Flora, with her head turned away ?" 
 
 " 'Tis her sweet self!" replied Howard, with a 
 theatrical enthusiasm. 
 
 The sleigh which they had been observing now 
 swiftly approached, and dashed by over the hard- 
 pressed snow, discovering a nearer view of a 
 gentleman and two ladies : the former a man of 
 style and ton, though somewhat advanced in years 
 the ladies, an extremely fine-looking woman, 
 magnificently dressed,whose age one might scarcely 
 venture to suppose, so brilliantly did the charms of 
 youth and gayety linger around her person ; the 
 other, a fair girl of exceeding beauty her rich
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 19 
 
 complexion heightened by air and exercise whose 
 bewitching smile and laughing blue eyes, having 
 already intoxicated half the Broadway exquisites, 
 boded no good to the susceptibilities of our young 
 loungers. Greetings were graciously interchanged 
 as they flew by ; and the two friends uncovered their 
 heads, with that air of heartfelt homage with which 
 gay and ardent young men return the smile and 
 salutation of the loveliest of the reigning belles. 
 
 " I am a lost man !" exclaimed Howard. 
 
 " Which one now ?" asked Leslie, smiling. 
 
 " I would I had Jived in the days of good old 
 Greece, when the chisel of Praxiteles made marble 
 breathe, and almost blush." 
 
 " I had rather live in the good old town of Ma- 
 nahatta, after a merry snow-storm like this," replied 
 Leslie. " But why your wish ?" 
 
 " That I might have Flora Temple wrought in 
 Parian for my gallery. To have that exquisite 
 Psyche face in marble immutable immortal 
 marble never to be changed by sickness by 
 care by time. I would spend hours by it daily, 
 worshipping." 
 
 " Do you know, Howard," said Leslie, " I think 
 that ' Psyche face' of yours a very expressive 
 phrase ?" 
 
 "What! more expressive than Mr. Henry 
 Howard's phrases usually are ? And, pray, the why 
 and the wherefore ?" 
 
 " Because it illustrates the soul," returned Leslie, 
 warmly, " which peculiarly marks the expression 
 of Miss Temple's face." 
 
 " But, look, yonder comes another!" said Howard. 
 
 " Old Mr. Romain and his daughter," added 
 Leslie ; " another subject for your Parian. But no 
 Psycfie there." 
 
 A stately creature, with a face that might have 
 been Cleopatra's in her girlhood, bowed smilingly
 
 20 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 ' to the two young men, and directed to them the 
 attention of her father. 
 
 " After all," exclaimed Howard, as they disap- 
 peared amid the throng of sleighs, " I do not know 
 but those large eyes of Rosalie Romain's eclipse 
 them all." 
 
 " She is one of your bewildering girls," said 
 Leslie, " whom it would be prudent for such young 
 gentlemen as you to beware of." 
 
 " Too late, my friend ; your caution, as good 
 advice very often does, comes quite too late. Her 
 first smile is as fatal as Kate Kearney's. But, by- 
 the-way, Leslie, they say that you " 
 
 " Nonsense 'tis not true," interrupted Leslie ; 
 " so they give you to Flora Temple " 
 
 " Ha !" said Howard, affectedly, with a volume 
 of egotistical implication in the motion of his chin 
 (nothing more eloquent than your chin) " as im- 
 probable things might happen ! But where is my 
 rascal ? I bade him drive up and meet me as soon 
 as possible. The loitering scoundrel ! I hope those 
 mettlesome fellows of mine have played him no 
 trick." 
 
 " What is doing yonder?" said Leslie ; " is some 
 one holding a levee in the open air this cold 
 morning ?" 
 
 " I wager my life," cried Howard, " that the 
 sleigh around which the others are all crowding so 
 eagerly contains that d d French count." 
 
 " His lordship, true enough, at full length," added 
 Leslie, "coated like a Russianemperor,and showing 
 off those four fiery animals to everybody's admi- 
 ration." 
 
 " And envy," said Howard. " That fop, now, 
 could marry any of those blooming belles at ten 
 minutes' notice." 
 
 " You do your countrywomen injustice," replied 
 his friend, dryly.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 21 
 
 " But here comes the pretty Helen Mellerie, all 
 fur and feathers !" resumed Howard. " Truth to 
 say," he continued, with that discriminating consist- 
 ency with which he seemed to judge of women, 
 always submitting to the eyes which attacked him 
 last, as men swear allegiance to the reigning 
 monarch, " truth to say, Helen Mellerie is beauty's 
 own." 
 
 "And behind/'added Leslie, " how right gallantly 
 come up our old friends the Mortons !" 
 
 " And that pretty bird Maria Morton she, too, 
 has a pair of eyes," said Howard, sagaciously 
 striking his colours in advance, " not to be encoun- 
 tered rashly." 
 
 "Too insipid," answered Leslie ; "beauty without 
 at least some sparkle of sense or heart, is such a 
 silly doll." 
 
 " And yet," said Howard, " wise men fall in love 
 with and marry it. Well, a fine fall of snow," 
 continued he, u is a glorious thing is it not ?" 
 
 " Yes, even in the homely monotony of the country 
 it has something solemn and pleasing," replied 
 Leslie. 
 
 "But a fashionable snow-storm !" said Howard. 
 " Ah ! look there comes your own peerless sister, 
 with your father, Leslie ; and what a magnificent 
 pair of horses ! I thought mine passable, but 
 really /" 
 
 " 1 bought them only yesterday," remarked 
 Leslie. " They are chosen from every thing this 
 side the water ; and, with all their fire and mettle, are 
 as kind in the harness as lambs, Julia could drive 
 them. If I am extravagant in any thing, it is in 
 the love of that noble animal. There is nothing 
 on earth so beautiful as a beautiful horse." 
 
 " Except a beautiful woman !" interrupted How- 
 ard, with his eyes fixed full on the face of a lady, 
 who, on foot, and leading by the hand an uncom-
 
 22 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 monly handsome child, was. attempting to cross 
 the street. 
 
 At the sight of Leslie, his father had ordered the 
 glossy and steaming steeds to the sidewalk. The 
 young foreigner Clairmont, who had been painted 
 out by Leslie, drove his horses up at the moment, 
 and the lady crossing with the child stopped in the 
 middle of the street, at the great peril of her life, 
 and followed the equipage with her eyes. At that 
 instant a sharp cry of terror burst suddenly from 
 all quarters. A pair of horses appeared approaching 
 at full speed, dragging the fragments of a broken 
 and untenanted sleigh, their manes streaming on 
 the air, their ears back, their heads stretched for- 
 ward, with open mouth and dilated nostril the half- 
 loosened traces flying about their heels, dashing first 
 to one side of the street, then to the other ungo- 
 vernable, desperate, and abandoned to all the wild 
 madness of flight. Each bound threatened the 
 extinction of some human life, or thaj the affrighted 
 creatures themselves would be dashed to pieces. 
 As they passed, a sympathetic fury ran through 
 all the startled horses around, which were with 
 difficulty reined in by their drivers. The foot- 
 passengers rushed precipitately to the wall. Men 
 shouted, children cried, women screamed, and 
 all the gay mirth was suddenly transformed to 
 shrieking fear and pale horror. Scarcely a moment 
 had elapsed from their first appearance till their 
 arrival at the spot where stood Leslie and his friend. 
 All seemed to have escaped from their perilous 
 career but the lady with the child, who had 
 attracted the attention of Howard. Whether un- 
 conscious of her imminent danger, or rendered by it 
 unable to move, she remained completely exposed ; 
 and the crowd, at a glance, and with a burst of new 
 interest, saw the fiery and furious animals plunging 
 with headlong speed directly towards her. Cries
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 23 
 
 of "Stop them ! stop them ! Save the woman and 
 the child !" rung on the air ; but, as is generally the 
 case in such emergencies, there were found many 
 more to suggest this counsel than to execute it. 
 Their destruction appeared inevitable; and that 
 stir, shudder, and hum with which men look on some 
 bloody and terrible accident broke from the crowd, 
 when Leslie sprang hastily forward, grasping 
 unsuccessfully at the reins of the fugitive beasts, 
 but dragging the mother and child almost from 
 beneath their hoofs. The lady, thus suddenly res- 
 cued from the jaws of death, immediately swooned, 
 and was conveyed with the child into an adjoining 
 mansion. Attention to them would have been 
 more undivided but for the catastrophe of one of 
 the animals from whose fury they were saved. 
 Starting aside from the grasp of Leslie, the finer of 
 the two leaped forward with an almost supernatural 
 effort, and the shaft of a gig entered into his body 
 directly through the ample chest, as a sword 
 plunged and buried to the hilt in a human bosom. 
 The noble creature uttered a scream painfully 
 expressive of agony and fear ; and, bleeding, 
 sweating, foaming, trembling, and panting, came 
 heavily to the ground. A rush of people now 
 closed in upon them. The dying steed was at once 
 disentangled from his harness, the purple tide poured 
 forth in a dark red flood, crimsoning the pure snow, 
 and with each gush the pain of the superb animal 
 appeared more insupportable, while the vapour 
 curled from his reeking flanks. He struggled, and 
 snorted, and strove to rise and resume his winged 
 and fiery flight, and his immense and flashing eyes 
 turned gleaming upon the faces of the spectators, 
 as if soliciting aid, or, at least, compassion. But 
 presently his panting breast heaved with a feebler 
 motion. Weaker, and yet more weak, grew his 
 convulsive shudders, and his vain attempts to 

 
 24 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 regain his feet ; till drenched, quivering, and gory 
 foam on his lip terror and despair in his eyes- 
 he stretched himself upon the ground in the last 
 throes of that dark crisis that must come alike to 
 man and beast. His fleet limbs stiffened, his asth- 
 matic breathings were silent, his broad and majestic 
 chest moved no more, the damp lips curled from 
 the large ivory teeth, the eyes stared, started, and 
 grew fixed and glassy, and that mighty form which 
 but a moment before had carried terror through the 
 crowd, lay now transmuted to a senseless clod. A 
 silence, as if a human soul had passed away, 
 remained on the circle of compassionate spec- 
 tators. 
 
 Leslie had inquired after the lady whose life he 
 had saved. She was yet invisible, but, the physician 
 informed him, had sustained no serious injury. He 
 caressed a few moments the exceedingly beautiful 
 little boy, who had been severely but not dan- 
 gerously cut upon the forehead, and in whose eyes 
 he found something singularly sweet and expressive. 
 Escaping from the scene which might have awaited 
 him had the lady been recovered, he entered his 
 father's sleigh, accompanied by Howard, relieved 
 John of the reins, and, handling the long whip with 
 the air of one not unaccustomed to its use, he 
 laughed away the apprehensions of his father and 
 sister, and dashed in among the idle racers in the 
 gay arena of pleasure.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A Lion, and an Accusation. 
 
 " Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent 
 differences, of very soft society, and great showing : indeed, to 
 speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry, for 
 you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman 
 would see." Hamlet. 
 
 RING ring ring. 
 
 " Is Count Clairmont of the French army at 
 home ?" inquired a footman at one of the most 
 fashionable hotel sin Broad way, while the horses of 
 an elegant barouche stood tossing their heads, and 
 stamping impatiently against the pavement at the 
 door ; for city sleighing is brief as the " posy of a 
 ring" or " woman's love" (though this last is a 
 slander). 
 
 " No, sir, he is not," replied the consequential 
 black servant. 
 
 " Please hand the count this note, with the re- 
 spects of Mrs. Temple." 
 
 Ring ring ring. 
 
 " Does not Count Clairmont of the French army 
 lodge here ?" asked a second visiter. 
 
 He does." 
 
 "Can I see him?" 
 
 ' You cannot he is not in." 
 
 " My card I shall see him at the opera." 
 
 Ring ring ring. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 26 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 A tall, pale-faced gentleman in black, with a 
 hooked nose and no teeth. " Can you direct me 
 where to find Count Clairmont?" 
 
 " This is his hotel, sir." 
 
 " Is he to be seen ?" 
 
 " Not till the afternoon." 
 
 " Has Count Clairmont come in yet?" inquired a 
 breathless messenger in livery, in a profuse per- 
 spiration, and who had been seven times before 
 during the last half-hour. 
 
 " He will not be visible, I have already told you, 
 this morning." 
 
 "Miss Morley's compliments, and returns the 
 volume." 
 
 Several carriages drove up in the course of the 
 morning, a score of domestics, and friends without 
 number, among whom were many of the most 
 distinguished inhabitants of the city, all inquiring 
 and leaving cards, notes, or some nameless message 
 or package for Count Clairmont of the French army. 
 One or two young female servants entered timidly, 
 and closely veiled, presenting small billets-doux ; 
 ingeniously folded in triangles and other expressive 
 figures (the boyish eyes of love, the young dog ! 
 peeping from under the big wig of mathematics), 
 and each leaving her tribute of rose-coloured or 
 pale blue gold-edged note-paper (containing heaven 
 knows what), to be most particularly delivered 
 into the hands only of Count Clairmont of the 
 French army. 
 
 " I wish to see Count Clairmont," said a dark- 
 complexioned and very handsome girl, with a 
 silvery voice and a foreign accent, her veil drawn 
 aside from her close bonnet to address the servant, 
 which she did in atone of eagerness, and almost of 
 command. 
 
 " It is not possible," said the servant. " He aint 
 visible to no one whatsomever."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 27 
 
 He will see Mr. Frederick Morton," interrupted 
 a very foppishly dressed young man, who had been 
 leisurely surveying the remarkable face of the 
 female : " say Mr. Morton he will see me, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Not by no manner of means," said the negro. 
 "He aint in; because, you see, he aint up. Con- 
 sequently, no gentleman can't never be in when he 
 aint up" 
 
 The truth of this syllogism was indisputable, and 
 Mr. Frederick Morton, after another lingering gaze 
 at the fair stranger, took his departure. 
 
 There was now a furious ringing at the bell which 
 communicated with the suites of private apart- 
 ments. 
 
 " John !" bawled the bar-keeper. 
 
 " Coming, coming, sir !" 
 
 " Count Clairmont's bell !" 
 
 "D n this Count Clairmont of the French 
 army !" muttered the man. " He has nothing to do 
 but turn women's heads, and men's too, for that 
 matter, and to keep us poor devils all day trooping 
 up and down-stairs. Legs aint made of iron, I 
 guess." 
 
 He was met by Count Clairmont's servant from 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Here, John ! you black scoundrel, what the 
 devil is the reason Count Clairmont's breakfast has 
 not been brought up? Bring it up instantly. His 
 lordship has rung twice." 
 
 " I wish his lordship was " 
 
 John scratched his head, and left the sentence 
 unfinished. The valet suddenly caught a view of 
 the young girl, at whom he gazed with strong and 
 increasing astonishment. 
 
 " What ! no !" muttered he. " Yes surely it 
 can't be ; but " 
 
 " Raifaellol" said the girl vehemently, and walking
 
 28 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 up close to him. It is /"and she suddenly broke 
 into a rapid flow of Italian, though uttered in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Per DioT said the valet, "I dare not." 
 
 He will break my heart !" said the girl. 
 
 He will break my head !" said RafFaello. 
 
 " If you displease me you will repent of it here- 
 after," answered she. 
 
 " If I offend my master I shall repent of it at 
 once," said the man. 
 
 " It is in vain to deny me I will see him at 
 once." 
 
 "Signora Louise!" replied the valet, after a 
 moment's hesitation, in which surprise and per- 
 plexity seemed struggling with a desire to oblige 
 " enter into this apartment, and I will return 
 to you directly." 
 
 There was something striking in the appearance 
 of the stranger. Her figure was tall, round, and 
 beautifully formed, and her face well repaid a second 
 glance. The complexion, though brown to the last 
 borders of a brunette, was clear and transparent. 
 Her hair of the colour of a raven ; and much there 
 was in her countenance of sweetness, and in her 
 manner of dignity, although her dress did not 
 denote affluence. But the principal feature was 
 her eyes. They were remarkable for their large- 
 ness, their intense blackness, the light which shot 
 from them with every rolling thought and sudden 
 feeling, the firm full gaze with which they ex- 
 pressed seriousness or anger, and the suffusion 
 of softness and tenderness which sometimes 
 quenched their fiercer beams. 
 
 The valet presently returned, and beckoned her 
 to follow ; and the plebeian world below went on for 
 a time without further molestation from the agents 
 or affairs of Count Clairmont of the French army.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 29 
 
 There is no keener wine-lover than your Turk. 
 Nowhere are there found wilder democrats than 
 in the ranks of a despot ; and nowhere are the 
 badges of nobility more reverently and indiscrimi- 
 nately hailed than by the gay votaries of fashion in 
 a republic, where all men are " born equal," and 
 where titles are excluded by the constitution. 
 
 A count a real count had made his appearance 
 in New- York. Rumour preceded, enthusiasm 
 welcomed, and admiration followed him. He was 
 young, handsome, rich, and a foreigner. The two 
 former would have been much, the latter were every 
 thing. It was whispered that, notwithstanding his 
 high title and princely fortune, he would write a 
 book on America. Books on America were even 
 then the vogue. The opinion of the count was 
 looked for with intense eagerness ; for it is a charac- 
 teristic of my countrymen, while they assume a 
 settled confidence in their merit, to shrink from the 
 lash of every nameless satirist. Then, perhaps, he 
 might marry ! The very men went crazy and the 
 women ! 
 
 Although in the French service, the Count Clair- 
 mont had spent much of his youth in England, and 
 the language was said to be more familiar to him 
 than his own ; others he spoke too with irresistible 
 grace ; but that of love more freely than all. Then 
 he had travelled over the world, danced with 
 duchesses and princesses, feasted with dukes and 
 kings, fought in a score of indefinite battles, and 
 triumphed in victories which nations had owed to 
 his arm. He had been wounded by a retreating 
 foe (ah ! what was that wound to those he daily 
 inflicted !) had sighed on the banks of the Ilissus, 
 and mused amid the ruins of Rome ; had beheld 
 Vesuvius spout his fires, and Olympus rear his head. 
 His motion was grace, his voice music, his eyes 
 bliss, his touch rapture: then he was fascinating; 
 c 2
 
 30 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 then he was foreign ; then he was single ; then 
 he \vasacount. It is certain that he was a modest 
 man that is, modest for a count in the French 
 arm y modest for a man that had half the lovely 
 women of New- York at his feet. Relieved for a 
 time, in consequence of a wound, from the claims 
 of his own country, he no longer fleshed his sword 
 in war ; but he had seized a nobler weapon, and 
 wreathed his brows with more graceful laurels. 
 This nobler weapon was a goose-quill. Blood he 
 could not now shed, but his ink flowed freely in the 
 cause of innocence and beauty and midnight oil 
 he wasted like water. Dull were the eyes that 
 might not strike a rhyme from the soul of Count 
 Clairmont of the French army. Every smile was 
 caught and imprisoned in a verse; every blush 
 brightened again in a sonnet. Many a slender foot 
 had been celebrated many a tender glance 
 embalmed many a passion nursed and many a 
 cigar smoked, in all the raptures of sentiment, and 
 in all the reveries of champaign, by Count Clair- 
 mont of the French army. Envy, jealousy, even 
 love, could frame only one accusation against him. 
 It was a charge that moistened the eyes and heaved 
 the bosom of many a charming belle. It shaded 
 his triumph at the ball, and dimmed his joy at the 
 banquet. The tall and lovely Henrietta Bellville 
 actually broke away from a tete-a-tete, the only one 
 envious fate ever granted, at the very thought ; and 
 that glowing creature Helen Mellerie was seen to 
 withdraw her hand from his in the little summer- 
 house by the river at her father's country-seat 
 in August the moon quite above the trees 
 immediately that is, almost immediately at the 
 recollection of its truth : 
 
 Count Clairmont of the French armv was 
 a flirt !
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A Trifle, and a Spark But on Trifles hang the Destinies of 
 Men, and a Spark is sometimes sufficient to burn a City. 
 
 " What ! does the pestilent coxcomb turn his shoulder on me ? 
 Can a butterfly be saucy 1" 
 
 " OH, Mr. Howard !" said Miss Morton ; " good 
 heavens ! take care how you tread. I have dropped 
 though how I cannot conceive a diamond ring 
 of very uncommon value. Papa's New-year pres- 
 ent. It is one of the largest stones I ever saw." 
 
 The company good-humouredly proceeded to 
 assist the fair unfortunate in the search ; when a 
 pretty young maid-servant entered the room to 
 address her mistress, and again disappeared. The 
 precious trinket was sought in vain. 
 
 " I had it," said Miss Morton, turning quite pale 
 "I really had it ten minutes since, and examined it 
 particularly. It must be somewhere here." 
 
 One of the gentlemen suggested the impropriety 
 of having admitted the servant. 
 
 " She certainly might have picked it up ; and if 
 so, discovery is altogether beyond the limit of pos- 
 sibility." 
 
 " Dear me !" exclaimed one, " how unlucky !" 
 
 " Bless me !" cried another, " it is extraordi- 
 nary !" 
 
 Miss Morton's alarm at length grew painful, and 
 tears stood on her cheeks.
 
 82 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " Oh !" said the disconsolate girl, " I would not 
 have lost it for all the world." 
 
 Leslie and Howard endeavoured in vain to con- 
 sole her. 
 
 " Hush, pretty trembler," whispered Count Clair- 
 mont ; " I have seen one equally brilliant. I will 
 procure it at once ; and, oh ! how happy I should 
 be, if Miss Morton would allow me to replace it." 
 
 It soon appeared that the costly bauble was lost. 
 Many anathemas were denounced against the 
 pretty maid, who had certainly picked it up amid 
 the general confusion as she passed through the 
 apartment. 
 
 " Papa will have her put in prison," sobbed Miss 
 Morton, in an anguish of disappointment and rage ; 
 " and I hope he will." 
 
 " Prison !" cried one ; " it is too good for her." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," echoed another ; " to be sure 
 it is." 
 
 " She should be hanged," said a third. 
 
 " But are you sure she is guilty ?" asked Leslie. 
 
 " Sure !" answered the whole company; " quite 
 sure." 
 
 As we may not in the future progress of our 
 story, find leisure to pause over the fate of the 
 person suspected, it ^nay be appropriate to state 
 here that she was arrested and imprisoned, and 
 (subsequently indicted for the theft. For want of 
 isufficient decisive proof, she was found not guilty, 
 but her discharge did not take place till some 
 months afterward, and then she was released only 
 with an impaired constitution and a blighted char- 
 acter, which eventually led her to real crime and 
 extreme misery. 
 
 Count Clairmont entered. Perhaps of all the 
 places which he was accustomed to honour with his 
 presence, he came to none where the civility of
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 good-breeding was less alloyed with silly flattery 
 and unmeaning admiration than at Mr. Leslie's. 
 
 " When I was at St. Petersburg," said the 
 count, " there was snow." 
 
 " Well, I never heard any thing said against that 
 of America before," observed Leslie, smiling. 
 
 " Of course," rejoined Miss Leslie, " republican 
 snow cannot compete with imperial." 
 
 The count arched his eyebrows. 
 
 " Satirical Miss Leslie !" 
 
 " No, only conscious of our imperfections," said 
 she, demurely. " But I am sure I heard you the 
 other day praise our thunder and lightning." 
 
 " No," answered the count, " strange as it may 
 seem, that of Europe is superior. Crossing the 
 Alps, I have witnessed such thunder and lightning 
 as could not take place in the United States, in 
 consequence of the inferior height of your moun- 
 tains." 
 
 " The highest only seventeen thousand feet," in- 
 terrupted Leslie, " and your highest fifteen thou- 
 sand." 
 
 " 'Tis the most amusing thing on earth," said his 
 sister, " to hear people of different countries pride 
 themselves, individually, upon what they have had 
 no share in producing. See the triumph, now, of 
 Norman, on account of a mountain two or three 
 thousand feet higher than his neighbours'. And 
 confess, count, that you are, at heart, rather 
 ashamed of your little Mount Blanc." 
 
 " I doubt," said the count, coolly, " the accuracy 
 of Mr. Leslie's statement." 
 
 " I can convince you," replied Leslie, " by a 
 reference to " 
 
 " Pray, Miss Leslie," interrupted the count, turn- 
 ing his shoulder to Norman " pray, Miss Leslie, 
 how is your papa ?" 
 
 Leslie's eyes flashed fire.
 
 34 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A dutiful Daughter. 
 
 1 Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters, 
 By what you see them act." 
 
 Othello. 
 
 DEAR, dear !" exclaimed Rosalie Remain, look- 
 ing up after a brown study of a minute, " it is 
 
 "Explain, my pretty penserosa" said the count, 
 laughing. 
 
 "The evidences are strong as proof of holy 
 writ," she sighed, fixing her tender eyes on his, 
 just sufficiently moistened to be uncommonly 
 bright. 
 
 "Evidences of what?" asked the count. 
 
 " You know as well as I," said Rosalie, winding 
 a rose-coloured riband round the end of her finger, 
 and looking down. 
 
 " No, on my life !" 
 
 " That you are a flirt." 
 
 'As 1 live," exclaimed the count, remonstra- 
 
 tingly. 
 The 
 
 beautiful girl turned partly away, half- 
 pouting. 
 
 " Nay, more," said he, in a softer tone, " as 
 as I" 
 
 He took her hand. He was certainly on his 
 knees, or rather on one knee ; he pressed it, as,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 35 
 
 faintly, and only at intervals, she struggled to 
 escape. 
 
 "As you what?" cried she, impatiently, and 
 slightly stamping her foot. 
 
 But a smile which had been lurking all the time 
 around her lips broke over her features like sun- 
 shine through a sudden cloud. 
 
 " As I love" said the count, after a brief pause, 
 and in his lowest tone. 
 
 Notwithstanding the smile, a tear had been 
 slowly filling in her eyes. It stirred it fell. It 
 dropped upon his hand. He kissed it off. 
 
 The tableau was picturesque. They lingered in 
 it a moment, as if they knew it became them. 
 
 "Dear! dear! there's pa!" exclaimed Rosalie, 
 in a sudden fright and she threw open a large 
 portfolio of plates. 
 
 "An extraordinary taste, count," said the old 
 gentleman, " my daughter has for the fine arts." 
 
 " Oh, pa !" 
 
 " I never knew such an ear ; and as for draw- 
 ing" 
 
 " Oh dear, pa ; how can you !" 
 
 " Then for the plain sweet old English ballad, 
 my lord " 
 
 "Good gracious, pa! don't you see the count 
 wants to go ?" 
 
 " What, are you off, count ? Bless me ! we 
 must keep you for dinner." 
 
 " Necessity, Mr. Romain. You know the tyr- 
 anny of appointments." 
 
 " Break them, count ; they are not with the bank. 
 My love, can't you persuade him to remain ?" 
 
 " I have not tried, pa." 
 
 " Heydey ! heydey ! these saucy girls ! But we 
 must not let you off. Besides, the sky looks 
 showery." 
 
 " But showers sometimes," said Clairmont, with
 
 36 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 a slight glance at Miss Remain, " are more beauti- 
 ful than sunshine." 
 
 "Let him go, pa; I am sure it will not ram 
 again to-day." 
 
 * Why, you jade," cried the old gentleman, 
 " you will drive him away in earnest. Impudent 
 minx !" he drew her towards him as he spoke, and 
 printed a kiss on her full red lips" she is getting 
 incorrigible." 
 
 " Lock her up, Romain ; she is mischievous, 
 said the count, shaking his finger playfully at the 
 laughing girl as he withdrew. 
 
 " The sky has cleared," said Mr. Romain. 
 
 "Yes, pa." 
 
 ' What an elegant young man Count Clairmont 
 is !" 
 
 " Yes, pa." 
 
 " You are going to Mrs. Temple's to-night, Ro- 
 salie?" 
 
 " Yes, if you please, dear pa." 
 
 " You will see the count there." 
 
 " I hope not, pa ; I think him rather disagree- 
 able." 
 
 " The women are pulling caps for him, notwith- 
 standing, they say, in all directions. He is very 
 rich ; he appears quite fond of us ; perhaps " 
 
 " Oh no, pa ; only polite." 
 
 " Well, every thing is for the best." 
 
 Yes, pa." 
 
 " I think Temple's girl will manage to " 
 
 " To what, pa ?" said Rosalie, with sudden eager- 
 ness. 
 
 " Go and get ready for dinner, child," said the 
 musing father, recollecting himself; " it is no affair 
 of ours." 
 
 " Yes, pa no, pa," replied the dutiful daughter, 
 with innocent simplicity, and retired to dress.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 37 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Dream and, as Dreams sometimes are, broken. 
 
 " And thus from Fancy's realms 
 Fall'n back to Earth." 
 
 THERE is nothing like a rout. Those given by 
 Mrs. Temple were the most brilliant in America. 
 But we must know Mrs. Temple before we attend 
 her parties. 
 
 You have seen a sweet, quiet, unambitious 
 woman, formed for the wife of a poet, whose life 
 would glide happily away amid the green shades 
 of the country a woman to read to during the 
 long winter nights to converse with, when the 
 overworked mind and heart are wearied and ex- 
 hausted in the brawling world to look at with 
 inward delight, while she teaches the children their 
 evening lessons their innocent prayers, kisses 
 them blesses them and packs them off to bed. 
 Her hair may be parted on her forehead with a 
 simple grace, that touches by a total absence of all 
 attempts to touch, and surprises the heart at once 
 into respect and admiration. Even in the early 
 morning you find such a one ready to receive 
 you with a fresh glow on her cheek, as if she had 
 been already abroad worshipping nature ; and 
 then you feel rebuked in soul that you have been 
 losing, in swinish sleep, the golden hours of the 
 opening day. Her home is her world ; her exist- 
 ence is in the love and happiness of her husband 
 and children. In the dazzling sphere of fashion, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 38 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 she may win admiration, but she seeks it not ; for 
 she knows it is often the meed of the superficial and 
 the false, that the noblest qualities which adorn 
 character and dignify human life there often pass 
 unregarded, or become the themes of ridicule. 
 Her principal charm is mind and feeling; but 
 there are moments when purity and love lend her 
 a beauty that illumines her presence like sunshine. 
 There is nothing like the loveliness of a woman 
 with a spring of satisfied affection flowing freshly 
 at her heart. Sunshine is too dim for a com- 
 parison. 
 
 Such a woman we have all seen ; but such a 
 woman was not Mrs. Temple. Her portrait might 
 be appropriately hung opposite to this, as you 
 see pendants of sunrise and moonlight calm and 
 storm gleaming, side by side, from the walls of 
 an academy. Mrs. Temple was a city wife, formed 
 to dazzle and triumph in companies. She had 
 trodden the flowery path of an admired belle ; had 
 early married a wild good- hearted fellow, very 
 much like herself, some said for love, some for 
 money. They were affluent beyond measure; 
 loved each other well enough to be perfectly happy 
 when together, or when apart. The blooming girl 
 had scarcely changed, as the beautiful wife and the 
 still glowing and graceful mother, till time, the 
 destroyer of others' charms, but shedding only a 
 deeper richness upon hers, matured her into the 
 stately and magnificent woman, who reigned in 
 the New- York circles fashion's chief minion, and 
 proud as Egypt's queen. One daughter crowned 
 her affections; and Flora Temple rose by the side 
 of her brilliant mother, lovelier, but not so gay; 
 and winning all hearts with a less striking but far 
 deeper power. Men hesitated upon which to be- 
 stow their worship. So sometimes lingers the 
 summer day, drawing all eyes to the encrimsoned
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 39 
 
 west, even when the moon has long filled, with her 
 holier radiance, the ascending heaven. The sin- 
 gularity of this association could not escape the 
 notice of the yet ambitious woman of fashion; 
 and Mrs. Temple regarded Flora with a curiously 
 mixed feeling, wavering between the enthusiastic 
 fondness of the mother and the lingering rivalry 
 of the belle. There was, perhaps, a certain con- 
 scious magnanimity in the delight with which she 
 gazed upon her daughter's expanding charms 
 fond, passionately, devotedly fond as she herself 
 was of admiration, and accustomed to be its 
 centre. But yet, though they charmed alike, they 
 could scarcely interfere with each other. The one 
 was always sure to overcome, when she desired 
 to do so, by the long-practised energies of her 
 highly-gifted nature ; the other always won love 
 without wishing, and even without knowing it. 
 The daughter valued not what she had never 
 striven to obtain, and beheld with pleasure the 
 triumphs of her queenly mother; who in her turn 
 yielded the path with a sigh and a smile to the 
 more unpretending excellences of Flora. Some 
 sharp and unfavourable features there were in 
 Mrs. Temple's disposition, for she was haughty 
 when excited, and aristocratic to a folly. But if 
 she had particular enemies, her general kindness 
 and her fascinating manners rendered the world 
 at large her friend. The life of her family, the 
 object of her husband's love and pride after his 
 dogs and horses left to her own control, in the 
 possession of boundless wealth, with a constitution 
 unimpaired, a beauty mellowed, a wit sharpened, 
 and a mind enriched, she was a giddy, sweet, 
 proud, high-tempered, happy, fashionable woman, 
 who never seriously conceived a more severe wish 
 against those among her neighbours whom she 
 had the least reason to like, than that the routs
 
 40 NORMA.N LESLIE. 
 
 which she gave two or three times a year might 
 make them positively die of admiration and envy. 
 
 " What ! nine o'clock !" cried the count, look- 
 ing at his watch ; " I must actually go this in- 
 stant." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton sighed, and turned towards him 
 a pair of hazel eyes which had done mischief in 
 their day, and were yet dangerous, though they 
 were now, or at least ought to have been, sheathed 
 in the scabbard of matrimony. 
 
 " Why do you sigh ?" said the count. 
 
 " Because I hate solitude ; and when you go I 
 shall be alone." 
 
 " But this," said the count, " is Mrs. Temple's 
 night, and I have positively promised." 
 
 " You are too early," said Mrs. Hamilton. 
 " Twelve will be quite time enough for that proud 
 and giddy Mrs. Temple." 
 
 " But I have two or three other imperative 
 engagements before Mrs. Temple's. There is the 
 young Mrs. Wilson." 
 
 44 And you leave me for her /" 
 
 Then there are the Evertons." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton sighed again. 
 
 44 Is my sweet coz so pensive ?" 
 
 * I do not know ; I am very unhappy." 
 
 44 Can you be unhappy ?" 
 
 The handsome young nobleman took her hand. 
 
 There was not a purer woman on earth than 
 Mrs. Hamilton. Her very purity made her care- 
 less. A school-girl could not be more artless. 
 Her lips opened to every thing that stirred in her 
 heart as naturally as rosebuds unfold when they 
 are ripe. 
 
 "Ah! Lucy, what a happy man is your hus- 
 band !" 
 
 44 Not so happy as you think*"
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 41 
 
 11 How ! Hamilton not happy ! Why, he is the 
 gayest dog among us." 
 
 " Yes, away at his club with you." u'p-r 
 
 " My lovely friend, you wrong him." 
 
 " Ah ! you little know." A tear glittered in 
 her eye. 
 
 " By heavens ! dear girl, you terrify me ! the 
 mere suspicion that you were not happy would for 
 ever prevent my being so." 
 
 " Oh, my lord ! I must not hear you must not 
 dare." 
 
 " And why should you not possess a friend in 
 me as well as in another? I sympathize in your 
 sorrows as I would in those of a friend of my own 
 sex. This dear hand has, I fear, been wasted." 
 
 "Count, I beg I entreat do not make me 
 angry." 
 
 " Loveliest of lovely creatures !" said the count, 
 " you have not the heart to reward admiration and 
 sympathy with anger. What, weeping 1" 
 
 " My lord, if you have any friendship for me, 
 leave me." 
 
 " Friendship ! can you doubt it?" 
 
 He dropped on one knee. This seemed a fa- 
 vourite position, when there was a woman in the 
 case. His homage, doubtless, would have met 
 with a severe rebuke, but a step was heard in the 
 hall. 
 
 " There there's James, my lord!" 
 
 The entrance of the domestic restrained the 
 ardours of the noble foreigner, who was upon his 
 feet, and several yards off, with an adroitness that 
 argued considerable practice. 
 
 " Pray, tell my dear Hamilton," he cried, " that I 
 waited for him an hour. I must bid you adieu !" 
 and he bowed himself out.. 
 
 " Take away the tea-things, James," said 
 Hamilton.
 
 42 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 The man obeyed, and disappeared. 
 
 His lovely young mistress remained a moment 
 in an attitude of thought. Suddenly rising, she 
 gazed at herself in the mirror ; and as she gazed 
 her feelings appeared to assume a new mood. 
 She adjusted the blonde and curls around a very 
 charming face. A soft colour suffused her counte- 
 nance. Her eyes emitted a lustre which had not 
 brightened there for many a day. She sighed; 
 but as she sighed a smile beamed upon her fea- 
 tures, and she seemed lost in the mazes of some 
 sad but pleasurable thought. 
 
 " Yes," at length she said to herself; " happy, 
 happy woman! What would life have been to 
 me then ? What a contrast ! I should have had 
 my portrait taken just so. There ! with that 
 ringlet hanging so and the lace brought down a 
 little in the front a la Marie Stuart so. There 
 the Countess Clairmont! with the drapery over 
 the arm, and the eyes lifted thus." 
 
 The reflection of another figure in the glass 
 caused her to start with a slight scream. 
 
 "Good heavens, Edward, how you frightened 
 me ! Is that you ?" 
 
 " Why, who the devil should it be ?" replied the 
 husband; "and what are you at there, parading 
 before the glass, like a tragedy queen ?" 
 
 "I was I was trying on my cap; but you 
 startled me so ! You are always so rough, Ed- 
 ward." 
 
 " I am not," replied he. 
 
 "You are. I am not. Get me some tea," 
 flinging himself heavily down on the sofa ; " I'm 
 tired." 
 
 _ * Yes, dear Edward, instantly," said the affec- 
 tionate wife, passing her arm tenderly around his 
 shoulder.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " Then why the devil don't you go ?" 
 
 " I have already rung for it You always come 
 
 home as cross as " 
 
 The husband swore. The wife sighed. James 
 
 brought the tea. -far '\-w<- &# '/ 
 
 Oh, matrimony ! thoa**dtP* *^-t 
 But they are waiting for us at the Temples'. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A New- York Rout And a nearer View of several 
 Characters. 
 
 " For my mind misgives, 
 Some consequence yet hanging in the stars 
 Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
 With this night's revels." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 THE company were assembled by ten ^ not all, 
 but nearly twice as many as could press at one 
 time into the ample and splendid apartments. 
 
 A fashionable New-York mansion is not sur-1 
 passed anywhere in graceful elegance and com- 
 plete comfort. There were many rooms blazing 
 with light. The opening hall was carpeted with oil- 
 cloth, of such rich figures and glossy smoothness as 
 resembled the pictured marble floors of Italian 
 palaces ; but the stairs and drawing-rooms, in- 
 stead of being, like those of many European nobles, 
 of cold marble or naked granite, were thickly cov- 
 ered with the most gorgeous carpets. But few 
 paintings and statues graced the walls. There 
 was,, however* a profusion of immense mirrors,
 
 44 NORMAN LESLIE- 
 
 marble tables, curtains of crimson velvet studded 
 with gold, vases, urns, and jars of rare flowers ; 
 exquisitely wrought lamps, dispensing a soft and 
 veiled radiance, like moonlight, from large globes, 
 sometimes stained with deeply-coloured pictures, 
 and sometimes of a frosty white ; couches, otto- 
 mans, and sofas of embroidered satin; and a variety 
 of such other costly objects as could be obtained 
 by wealth from any part of the world for the indul- 
 gence of pride or the gratification of luxury. The 
 ballustrades of the steps which led to the upper 
 apartments were of beautifully carved mahogany, 
 stained with the rich colour of a ripe chestnut; 
 and, by means of secret apertures, invisible fires 
 diffused through the corridors a mild warmth, per- 
 mitting all the interior doors of the house to stand 
 open, without afflicting even the sensitive victims 
 of rheumatism or toothache with the horrors of a 
 draught. 
 
 Immediately on their arrival, the guests were 
 ushered into 'separate apartments above, where, 
 according to their sex, they re-arranged their toi- 
 let, which even the motion of a carriage might 
 have disturbed. Here, previous to their entrance, 
 floated groups of syrphs and syrens, to reclaim a 
 wandering curl or replant a drooping rose. Then 
 the gentlemen's apartment the extraordinary 
 preparations to be elegant the collars bent to the 
 precise angle the cravats tied in the exquisite 
 knot the shining feet the curled heads the 
 crooked elbows the audacious whiskers. Cupid, 
 hast thou no pity ? There is nothing so merciless 
 as a fop. 
 
 The two principal saloons were thrown into one, 
 by means of the immense double doors of glassy 
 mahogany. A band of musicians, stationed in an 
 adjoining hall, ever and anon breathed a low air 
 that banished eare and gravity, inspired wit and
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 45 
 
 pleasure, and animated rather than interrupted 
 conversation. 
 
 At the lower end of the apartment stood Mrs. 
 Temple ; her majestic figure multiplied in the 
 mirrors, her face, always a radiant one, now 
 glowing with pride and conscious beauty. A 
 coronet of diamonds on her queenly brow flashed, 
 burned, and trembled with every motion in the 
 light ; and above nodded a snowy plume. She 
 looked thus, in her glory, like the rising sun. 
 
 By her side stood Flora ; not so tall as her 
 mother, nor so commanding, but yet invested by 
 the charm of youthful loveliness with more direct 
 power over the feelings. For her style of beauty, 
 she was admirably dressed in simple white ; her 
 hair parted plainly on her forehead, and a rose, 
 fresh culled from nature, the only ornament of her 
 strikingly beautiful head. Venus might have so 
 stood by Juno. 
 
 It was a study to see Mrs. Temple " receive :" 
 that stately air that gracious recognition and 
 graceful acknowledgment the ready word the 
 quick repartee the brilliant smile the beaming 
 look. 
 
 Then Flora without any of that dramatic effect 
 more reserved more natural more lovely 
 growing like a Guido on the contemplation more 
 difficult to imitate and to forget. 
 
 Had the proud dame known her true moral glory 
 that night, she would have attached no value to the 
 splendour which surrounded her, but triumphed 
 alone, conspicuous and envied as the mother of 
 Flora Temple. 
 
 The rooms were filled the halls the steps 
 before the door. Family after family of the very 
 highest ton (and are there not the loftiest exclusives 
 in a republic ?) came pouring up. Wealthy mer- 
 chants -eminent counsellors, just from profound
 
 46 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 tomes, gladly escaped to this scene of light and 
 joy astute judges, who had perhaps recently sealed 
 the fate of wretched criminals, chatted with the 
 bright-eyed girls, and sipped their coffee to dulcet 
 music physicians, from the death-bed of the dying 
 or the dead distinguished members of Congress 
 ex-governors and bank-directors popular authors 
 (for even America began to have popular authors) 
 elegants beaux-esprits and " young men of 
 talent" by the score and iions in such plenty that 
 they were in each other's way; all mingled in the 
 enchanting tide of sparkling pleasure and radiant 
 beauty. The waltz that airy child of fashion and 
 caprice even here, where the pioneerhad scarcely 
 flung his axe, floated like a zephyr, though, truth to 
 say, within a sadly circumscribed compass music 
 breathed champaign exploded. The pressure for 
 pleasuro grew greater and more insupportable 
 the sides of the obese were penetrated by the 
 elbows of the enthusiastic. The gentlemen were 
 wedged in closely, with one hand and an opera-hat 
 above -their head imperial carpets were soaked 
 with wasted wine each charming mouth dropped 
 words of wit and mirth those who were out 
 pressed to get in those who were in pressed to 
 get out the roar of new carriages thundered at 
 the door, and what is there after all like a rout? 
 But, heavens ! what a voice ! what loveliness ! 
 what execution ! A young girl, of peculiar grace 
 and beauty, ran her slender fingers rapidly over the 
 keys of a piano, and sang with such tones of sweet- 
 ness that the auditors almost ceased to breathe. A 
 difficult and brilliant bravura elicited from every 
 lip repeated and irrepressible exclamationsof delight 
 and pleasure. They had not yet died away, when 
 a plaintive ballad, simple as the murmurs of a 
 running brook, and soft as the voice of the dove 
 mourning her mate in the forest, once more hushed
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 47 
 
 every sound and touched every heart, till the last 
 sweet note, melting away, left a general pause 
 the truest tribute of praise. 
 
 " Who is she?" cried one. 
 
 " Who can she be ?" exclaimed another. 
 
 It was old Mr. Romain's daughter. Every one 
 knew old Mr. Remain. 
 
 If any thing can heighten the spell of good wine, 
 it is music a little while after. If any thing can 
 extract from music its last alloy of earth, and leave 
 it purely an ethereal rapture, it is good wine a little 
 while before. 
 
 " By heavens," said Albert Moreland, " this is 
 wonderful ! Norman, did you ever hear such 
 sounds?" 
 
 " Many a time and oft," replied Leslie, with in- 
 difference. 
 
 Rosalie Remain was the centre of all eyes ; even 
 Flora stood by almost unobserved. Never was 
 collected a fairer array than shone here to-night, 
 and none so marked as Rosalie Remain. Her 
 beauty was indeed of a kind to bewilder the un- 
 wary. Her person was graceful and majestic, and 
 somewhat above the ordinary stature. A warm 
 and passionate languor was felt in her manner and 
 expression ; except at times, when suddenly excited 
 to peculiarly winning loveliness and naivete. Eyes 
 large and dark a set of pearly teeth a bewitching 
 smile the most engaging air and a voice that 
 might sound ihe alarm to the heart of a cynic, 
 invested her with uncommon powers of allurement. 
 She was peculiarly favoured, too, with a complexion 
 of such transparent brightness, lips so red and 
 pouting, and cheeks so fresh and rosy, as would 
 have imparted a character of beauty to features 
 much less intrinsically perfect. 
 
 " What, Norman, silent !" cried Moreland again 
 to the young man whom he had previously ad- 

 
 
 48 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 dressed, who was rather gravely regarding Miss 
 Romain, while others could not find words to praise 
 her sufficiently ; " and, now 1 remember, this en- 
 chantress the world has given to you. Is it not so, 
 Miss Temple?" 
 
 "Even so, Mr. Moreland," answered Flora, with 
 a smile ; " and a more elegant girl Mr. Leslie could 
 scarcely desire." 
 
 Leslie coloured in some confusion. 
 
 " See,"exclaimed Moreland, "the guilty wretch !" 
 
 " Upon my soul," said Leslie, " you do me totf 
 much honour." 
 
 "Nay, but I saw," said Moreland, "even this 
 minute the language of Miss Romain's eyes is not 
 easily to be mistaken ; and Mr. Norman Leslie 
 himself, for all his present gravity, has a pair of 
 orbs which converse indifferently well. Look at 
 them, Miss Temple." 
 
 " Nonsense, it is untrue," said Norman. " I 
 solemnly assure you it is untrue. Miss Temple, 
 protect me from the raillery of this sarcastic 
 lawyer." 
 
 " I must reserve my forces, Mr. Leslie, for a 
 juster cause," replied Miss Temple, smiling. 
 
 " There, I told you so, Leslie ; Miss Temple 
 knows it I know it everybody knows it." 
 
 " Albert, upon my honour " 
 
 " What," interrupted Moreland, " Norman Leslie 
 
 not love Rosalie Romain ! Why, now I remember 
 
 me, I have myself seen a copy of verses, addressed 
 
 by N. L. to R. R., enough to make stones weep. 
 
 I hereby formally accuse you of the black and 
 
 dreadful, and very uncommon, crime of love." 
 
 " What shall be the penalty ?" asked Norman. 
 
 " We shall be obliged to procure one by special 
 
 act of Congress," replied the lawyer quickly ; "for 
 
 the offence is so heinous, that, like parricide, the
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 49 
 
 legislator might well forget to include it in his 
 code." 
 
 "Whatever it may be," said Norman, "the 
 indictment is false." 
 
 " You will plead guilty, then, to flirtation ? re- 
 member Congress Hall." 
 
 " Of flirtation," said the youth, blushing percep- 
 tibly, " perhaps ; but if that is a crime, I have 
 repented and done penance I hold myself ab- 
 solved." 
 
 " Jealousy !" said Moreland : " the dear creatures 
 have quarrelled ; I vow I will bring them together. 
 Miss Temple knows " 
 
 But Miss Temple had disappeared. 
 
 " Albert," said Norman, in a low voice, " never 
 again jest with me on that subject. I hate that girl 
 I actually hate her. She is the wiliest coquette 
 that ever breathed. I did think once I loved her ; 
 her beauty and winning allurement of manner fired 
 my boyish feelings. But I needed only a slight 
 experience in the capacity of a lover, to read in 
 her actions a cold heart* and a shallow under- 
 standing. She is vain, proud, and silly ; though 
 brilliant, accomplished, and lovely. She is a show 
 a dazzle a bright but hollow and useless mask, 
 without either head or heart. She has taught me 
 a lesson in woman which I shall not lightly forget." 
 
 " But I see you with her often, and in friend- 
 ship," said Moreland. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Norman, laughing ; " you 
 would not have me challenge her ? When I say 
 hate, I mean I dislike the class of characters to 
 which she belongs. Individually, I would not injure 
 her either in reputation or feelings. She is a gay, 
 and can be a fascinating, woman ; and perhaps 
 I am somewhat severe upon female character. 
 Besides, the world has placed me among her rejected 
 lovers. I would do away the impression, as I do 
 
 VOL. i. E
 
 50 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 not deserve the honour. I meet her often in society. 
 We have had no definite misunderstanding. This 
 change in my sentiments has been the work of 
 silent observation. I found a glittering toy, thought 
 it diamond examined it, and discovered it to be 
 but common glass. Yet I do not wish, and indeed 
 have no right, to withhold from her the civilities due 
 to a lady." 
 
 " Come, come," said Moreland, " I think I see 
 through all this. You are a little jealous. That 
 French count, who has set the whole town 
 crazy " 
 
 " What ! that Clairmont !" interrupted Norman, 
 with an expression of contempt " that idle fop ! 
 that vain and forward coxcomb !" 
 
 "Ah!" cried Moreland, "that is the very lan- 
 guage of the green-eyed monster." 
 
 " I tell you," said Norman, " I would attend his 
 union with Rosalie Romain as cheerfully as you." 
 " But you will not have an opportunity," returned 
 Moreland ; "I have myself, to be sure, remarked 
 his admiration for Miss Romain." 
 " And hers for him ?" 
 
 " What could she do, Norman ? You know, in 
 your heart, that he is the most elegant dog in the 
 world, and turns every woman's head he looks at ; 
 his address his person his accomplishments his 
 fortune the exceeding propriety and elegance with 
 which he speaks the English his high rank and 
 that guita)* ! and he has nothing on earth to do but 
 to idle and make love. The girls are flattered 
 men envious husbands look on him obliquely and 
 lovers (the Lord help them !) are jealous, Mr. 
 Norman Leslie among the rest. But hear me to 
 the close. As for that beautiful creature Miss 
 Romain why, we are not Turks the formidable 
 rival can marrv but one and this one cannot be
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 51 
 
 Miss Remain ; for, to my certain knowledge, he is 
 paying particular attention to " 
 
 " And so, /am to take the lady if he will not !". 
 
 " Well, well, well, Norman ! you need not flash 
 your eyes so sternly on me; /am not a count in 
 the French army." 
 
 " Nor he either," said Leslie, quickly, and in a low 
 tone, " I'll wager my life. The strongest suspicions 
 have crossed me. You know how he appeared 
 here under what odd circumstances ; his baggage 
 lost his boat overturned and the devil to pay : so 
 that he might or he might not be what he professes. 
 Count or no count, I have an instinctive and an 
 unconquerable aversion to that man. I have noted 
 trifles in him which argue dark things." 
 
 " Oh ho !" said Moreland, laughing ; " what 
 havoc love can make in the brain of a sensible 
 fellow ! Here you are, crammed with sentiment 
 and romance, and as full of quarrel ' as my young 
 mistress's dog !' You doubt, the honour of a noble 
 whom no one else could dream of doubting, and 
 you scornfully dismiss the character of a young 
 girl whom all the rest of the company are dying in 
 love for. ' Good Heaven ! the souls of all my tribe 
 defend from jealousy.' " 
 
 " Love or hate," said Norman, thoughtfully, " I 
 do not like this sprig of foreign nobility. If this be 
 the stuff of European nobles, Heaven send that they 
 keep hereafter the other side of the Atlantic. I half 
 fancy sometimes that my aversion is reciprocated ; 
 and I have a gloomy presentiment that we shall 
 one day cross each other." 
 
 " Heaven forbid !" exclaimed Moreland ; "you 
 must be wary how you approach him, for his anger 
 is no jest. He is, as perhaps you know, the most 
 deadly shot in the country : this is the most con- 
 spicuous among his accomplishments. He plants 
 a pistol-bullet at the farthest distance, ten times out
 
 52 NORMAN LESLIE- 
 
 of twelve, upon a silver sixpence. I have seen him 
 do it ; and they do say that he has no desire 
 whatever to keep this remarkable skill a secret." 
 
 " Doubtless," replied Norman ; " he fancies, I 
 suppose, that such a power will awe the plebeian 
 crowd whose dinners he eats whose wives and 
 daughters he makes love to " 
 
 " And whose matches he breaks off," interrupted 
 Moreland. " He has already, as you know, killed 
 a man at the South ; and, 'fore Heaven, I believe 
 that is one reason the women love him so." 
 
 " Is there a character on earth," said Norman, 
 " so base and execrable as a professed shot ? It 
 would be no bad deed to send back this malapert 
 poppinjay with a broken wing. One looks without 
 horror at the worst calamity of a professed duellist 
 in a duel." 
 
 " What a husband he will make !" said Moreland ; 
 " and how many of these women are dying for 
 him because only of his nickname those five 
 cabalistic letters which compose the word count ! 
 Yet, truth to say, he is an elegant fellow." 
 
 " I wish Miss Romain no worse fate," answered 
 Norman, " than success in her evident designs to 
 entrap him." 
 
 " And you are really off there, then ?" 
 
 " I tell you, Albert, if this bright-lipped girl who 
 enchants these people here so to-night, with the 
 wealth of Cro3sus, were to be had for the asking, 
 and Flora Temple without friend or fortune were 
 to be wooed and won by perseverance, I could 
 rather choose the latter, and live with her in a 
 desert, than trust my happiness with yonder un- 
 feeling flirt. As for the Frenchman, 1 wish him 
 success they are fit for each other ; and the Lord 
 help them, say I, by their winter fireside." 
 
 "Phoo! phoo!" said Moreland, "such people 
 have no winter fireside ; they live in the world and
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 53 
 
 for it, and not for each other, nor with each other : 
 and, between you and me, dear Norman, I am glad, 
 and so will Mary be, that you have escaped from 
 this syren ; but then, as I live, it's Flora Temple." 
 
 " No, Albert no !" replied Norman, rather 
 hastily ; and then falling into a more contemplative 
 manner " Flora Temple is not for me neither. 
 She is one of your intellectual women a passion- 
 less, self-possessed, unloving nature soft and win- 
 ning, I grant, but without warmth. She has a 
 heart, doubtless, but it is not formed for love. No 
 gentle thought-wanderings no fond wishes or 
 alarms ; you never saw a cloud or a flush upon her 
 brow. I am sure she would ridicule a lover to 
 death. I like a woman with a soul. Some rich 
 automaton, with all the external trappings of dignity 
 and fashion, will marry her, just when mamma says, 
 ere the bloom of bellehood has passed utterly away. 
 She will not resist ; she will have no reason for 
 resistance, for she will adapt herself to the caprices 
 of one man as well as of another. There will 
 be a wedding-company calls cards and jams; 
 ices will be eaten champaign spilt compli- 
 ments paid ; there will be blushes, smiles, wishes, 
 witticisms, and congratulations ; years will roll on, 
 and Mistress Flora, whatever her name may be, 
 will bud and bloom, fade and fall a good wife, 
 an exemplary mother, and I heartily hope an 
 indulgent and contented grandmamma. She will 
 live and die be mourned and forgotten, all in the 
 forms and fashions prescribed by propriety and 
 custom ; and there will be the end of her. I hate 
 cold women, and Miss Temple is cold as ice." 
 
 Poor Flora ! How he slandered her ! 
 
 The two friends parted ; and Norman followed 
 the tide as it flowed around the room, sometimes 
 pausing to address an acquaintance, sometimes to 
 exchange a word with a belle. 
 E 2
 
 54 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Leslie," cried Miss Remain, "yotz 
 come opportunely. Here are Miss Morton and 
 myself actually deserted, wandering about like 
 two princesses of romance. You are a true 
 knight-errant, and shall be our champion." 
 
 " Happy chance !" replied Leslie, extending his 
 arms ; and they accompanied him on his rounds. 
 
 " Dear me !" cried Miss Morton, " I thought 
 Count Clairmont was to be here. It is now twelve 
 o'clock." 
 
 "He never comes till late when he means to 
 remain," said Miss Romain ; " but, favoured as we 
 are, I had quite forgotten him," added she, looking 
 expressively at Norman. "Come, Mr. Leslie, for 
 mercy's sake say something; youirre as dull as a 
 philosopher." 
 
 " I am a philosopher, Miss Romain," said Nor- 
 man, gravely. 
 
 " Since when, pray I and wherefore, my noble 
 knight ?" asked Miss Romain, again looking up 
 familiarly in his face, and hanging on his arm as a 
 happy wife might lean on the support of a loving 
 husband. 
 
 *' All men that is, all wise men," pursued the 
 youth, "grow philosophical as they grow old ; and 
 one surely needs philosophy when danger hangs 
 on either arm, and looks him in the face." 
 
 "Meaning us! well, that is about as inappro- 
 priate a speech for a philosopher," said Miss Ro- 
 main, " as I ever heard. Did you hear, Maria, his 
 pretty speech ?" 
 
 "Yes, often. To-day, when he called at our 
 house" 
 
 " Called who called ?" 
 
 " Why, the count. Dear me ! you were speak- 
 ing of Count Clairmont, were you not ?" 
 
 " There must be two philosophers in our circle," 
 said Miss Romain to Leslie, with a significant
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 55 
 
 smile, and in a whisper, which again brought her 
 mouth almost against his own. Her languishing 
 eyes were lifted to his ; he felt her breath on his 
 cheek. At this moment his glance encountered 
 that of Miss Temple ; her gaze was calm as a sis- 
 ter's. Why did a feeling of disquietude of con- 
 fusion shoot through his heart ? 
 
 A few moments after, his gay companions were 
 called away to the dance, and he was left again 
 alone. As he stood, his eye, involuntarily passing 
 over the varied assembly of countenances, sought 
 out and reposed on the face of Miss Temple. 
 
 "After all, how much more truly beautiful she 
 is !" thus the youth thought, as he stole his unob- 
 served study of her features "how much more 
 noble and wife-like than Rosalie !" As he gazed, 
 the rose which ornamented her hair fell unnoticed ; 
 he picked it up. 
 
 " Miss Temple, you have dropped your rose ; 
 allow me." She reached forth her hand, received 
 it with a graceful acknowledgment, and was about 
 placing it in her hair. What would he not have 
 given to place it there himself! He never saw 
 her look so serenely, so perfectly lovely. 
 
 " Why, Leslie !" exclaimed the brother of Miss 
 Morton a handsome young fop, with his hair 
 curled profusely around his forehead and bowing 
 low with the conscious elegance of a compliment, 
 " your heart must be marble ! Had that fair trib- 
 ute fallen to me, I should have cherished it as a 
 relic out of Holy Land." 
 
 How often it happens that the bosom struggling 
 with pure feeling is denied the power of expressing 
 it ; while nature gives the envied eloquence to the 
 careless and the gay, who neither know how to 
 value nor how to use it. 
 
 " If you esteem the poor rose so highly, Mr.
 
 56 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 Morton," said Flora, " pray take it. Perhaps rt 
 will be as potent as other relics." 
 
 Morton bowed ; received the flower kissed it 
 and placed it in his bosom. That careless act 
 of Flora's cost him a heartache. Norman knew 
 the simple youth, and smiled. 
 
 " What a fine creature, Leslie hey ?" said Mor- 
 ton, affectedly, a few moments afterward. " But 
 don't deduce any false conclusions from this kind- 
 ness of hers to me. It is mere civility on her 
 part ; nothing more, upon honour. But she is a 
 splendid article, I declare isn't she ? Halloo ! 
 who is that dashing fellow with her ?" 
 
 " Count Clairmont," said his sister. " Now, just 
 as if you did not know the count, and he at our 
 house every day of his life !" 
 
 " Why, so it is I" exclaimed Morton. " Well, I 
 never I did not know him with his back turned, 
 I declare. He's a fine-looking fellow, though isn't 
 he ! And how he does dress. Did you ever ! How 
 he talks and laughs to Flora don't he ! Why, 
 he'll get her for the next cotillon won't he ? and 
 I have very particular reasons for wishing to dance 
 with her myself. Excuse me, ladies ; by-by, Les- 
 lie. Why, only look ! Ton my soul, 1 declare, I 
 never " 
 
 He broke away abruptly through the press. 
 Leslie saw him reach the spot where Flora stood, 
 and bow with a violent and rather determined 
 attempt at grace. Flora's slight responsive bend 
 of the head implied assent ; and whatever were 
 the " very particular reasons" for Mr. Morton's 
 wish to dance with her, they were now to be 
 gratified. 
 
 " Come, your hand for this cotillon," cried How- 
 ard to Miss Remain. 
 
 " With all my heart," answered she.
 
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 57 
 
 " That is saying a great deal," said Miss Temple, 
 with an arch smile, as she was passing. 
 
 Miss Remain blushed, or seemed to blush. 
 
 "Gentlemen will please take their partners," 
 cried the manager of the ball, clapping his hands. 
 
 The field was now much clearer. Some had 
 gone off into the card-rooms, and some were at 
 the bufet. A space had been gradually occupied 
 by the dancers sufficiently large to enable them to 
 walk through the figures ; and a group of girls 
 ranged themselves in their places : Howard with 
 Miss Romain, Morton with Miss Temple, and the 
 count with a tall young lady newly out from 
 boarding-school full of sentiment, blushes, and 
 delight. It was evident, from her frequent repeti- 
 tion of " my lord," that the phrase was a favourite 
 one, and redolent of recollections of Lord Morti- 
 mer and other heroes of circulating libraries. 
 
 " How uncommonly lovely the American women 
 are," said the count. 
 
 " Oh ! my lord," with a slight courtesy. 
 
 " When I was in Greece " 
 
 " Have you really been in Greece, my lord ?" 
 
 " Why, I almost lived in the Parthenon." 
 
 " The what, my lord V 
 
 " The Parthenon. I worshipped I was fairly 
 in love with it." 
 
 " In love? oh, my lord !" and the blooming young 
 lady cast down her eyes, and blushed decidedly. 
 
 " And, as I was saying, there was a young 
 Greek girl " 
 
 " A young Greek girl, my lord ?" 
 
 " A most lovely and glowing creature " 
 
 " Oh ! my lord." 
 
 " And she was very, very like you." 
 
 " Dear me, my lord ! like me ?" 
 
 " You have the same expression about the eyes ; 
 and the mouth has the same "
 
 58 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " Forward two, and cross over," cried Miss Ro- 
 main : " why, Miss Thomson, are you not in the 
 cotillon r 
 
 Miss Thomson was so lost in conjecturing what 
 sort of an expression the count could mean, that 
 she missed her turn. 
 
 " We have such delightful weather, Miss Tem- 
 ple," cried Morton. 
 
 " Truly charming, Mr. Morton. Broadway 
 was brilliant this morning." 
 
 Indeed !" 
 
 " I never saw a gayer scene." 
 
 "Ah! really." 
 
 " There is a new " 
 
 " Miss Temple," stammered Morton, apparently 
 unconscious that he interrupted her. 
 
 " Mr. Morton !" she replied, in some surprise at 
 the extreme embarrassment which had suddenly 
 come over him. 
 
 " I I I was going to beg Miss Temple I 
 was going I was going " 
 
 " Well, why don't you go," said Miss Temple, 
 unable to repress a smile ; " the whole cotillon 
 waits for you." 
 
 And the young man skipped forward and hopped 
 back awkwardly, blundering through the figure 
 with a burning face. The count, eying through 
 his glass, whispered Miss Thomson, who suddenly 
 laughed outright ; but covered her mouth in girlish 
 confusion with her folded handkerchief. 
 
 When Morton had accomplished his manoeuvres 
 with a secret curse upon the inventor of dancing, 
 he returned with redoubled determination to strike 
 the blow. Miss Temple, with a large fortune set- 
 tled separately upon her, and with yet higher ex- 
 pectations from parents, uncles, and scores of
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 59 
 
 wealthy relatives, so young, so gentle, and so beau- 
 tiful withal, was a prize indeed. 
 
 " I was about to say, or rather to ask," resumed 
 Morton " to ask whether your affections " 
 
 " My what /" cried Flora, aloud, and really 
 thrown off her guard by this sudden sentimental 
 turn in the conversation. 
 
 " Hush, for heaven's sake !" cried Morton, in a 
 vehement whisper ; and he was then compelled to 
 jump forward again. 
 
 Miss Temple opened her large blue eyes in as- 
 tonishment and some alarm. But the last thing a 
 modest woman thinks of a man is, that he loves 
 her especially when such a sentiment has never 
 entered into her own bosom. She continued the 
 dance therefore frankly, not fully trusting to the 
 evidence of her ears, with an inward prayer that 
 the palpable squeeze which Morton bestowed on 
 her hand might be the result of awkwardness 
 rather than of intention. She saw, however, the 
 full necessity of being on her guard ; for though 
 no one could ever be farther removed from her 
 " affections" than Mr. Frederick Morton, yet she 
 was aware that mistakes on such subjects had 
 happened before, and might again. The youth, 
 half-desperate, but resolving not to be repulsed by 
 what he deemed the coquetries and caprices of 
 her sex building largely upon the rose which he 
 had ostentatiously stuck into his button-hole, and 
 at heart as assured as Malvolio that his mistress 
 regarded him with favouring eyes approached her 
 again, and with a decisive resolution in his manner 
 said, in a low tone, 
 
 " To be short with you, Miss Temple (for it will 
 be time to forward two again presently), I wish to 
 inquire for very particular reasons whether 
 you are engaged ?" 
 
 " I am," said Flora.
 
 60 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 "Miss Temple !" exclaimed Morton ; " I declare 
 upon my soul the deepest regret " 
 
 " If you had only spoken before, Mr. Morton," 
 said Flora. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Temple ! may I ask so far as to 
 inquire to whom ?" 
 
 " Indeed, I do not think I can remember their 
 names ; but I am engaged to several." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Flora ! I declare," said Morton, " my 
 heart is relieved from a whole mountain." 
 
 " Heavens ! Mr. Morton, a whole mountain ! 
 That must be a very great relief." 
 
 " Very," said Morton ; " but the engagement / 
 meant " he laid his hand upon his breast. 
 
 " Why, Morton !" said the count, " what can be 
 the matter with you ? forward, my good sir for- 
 ward." 
 
 And the disappointed lover sachezed forward 
 with a rueful countenance, inwardly vowing ven- 
 geance against the count, and scarcely knowing 
 whether he was on his head or his heels. He cut 
 a pigeon- wing at the end of the figure, and again 
 approached his mistress with a more collected and 
 bolder mind. 
 
 Miss Temple," he cried, " my feelings" 
 
 The sudden cessation of the music here ren- 
 dered the two last words rather more distinctly 
 audible than the susceptible speaker intended. 
 Flora actually blushed ; for it was evident that so 
 pathetic an exclamation could scarcely be the be- 
 ginning of a conversation, and, by the surprise 
 manifested in their countenances, it was clear that 
 many of the bystanders had heard it. Howard, 
 who was standing near, seized the unfortunate 
 Morton with his thumb and finger by the lappel of 
 his coat, gazed into- his face with a look of bur- 
 lesque sympathy, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Your feelings, Mr. Morton ? you don't say so !"
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 61 
 
 "I do believe, my lord," said Miss Thomson, 
 with the air of one who has just discovered and is 
 considerably astounded by an extraordinary secret 
 " I do believe, my lord, that Mr. Morton has 
 been making love" 
 
 " You are with me for the next cotillon. Miss 
 Temple?" cried the count. 
 
 " It is of no use," muttered Morton ; " I declare 
 I never that infernal count in the French army ! 
 But / ? 11 teach him " and his passions were really 
 inflamed by beholding his rival basking in the 
 smile of the delightful girl whom, in the language 
 of the novelists, he wished one day to " make 
 his." 
 
 After the cotillon, the count resigned Flora and 
 took her mother. Mr. Temple was in another 
 room at the whist-table. What those husbands' 
 hearts are made of! 
 
 " Count !" said Mrs. Temple. 
 
 ** Dear madam ?" 
 
 " You have been dancing with Flora." 
 
 " An angel !" 
 
 "Is she not? and just as pure and amiable as 
 she is lovely." 
 
 " When I was in Vienna," said the count, with 
 his hand on his cravat, " I knew a young duch- 
 ess" 
 
 " Like Flora ?" 
 
 " Not half so distinguee, but still like her." 
 
 " Well !" 
 
 " I knew her I admired and " 
 
 " And you loved " 
 
 " No, I could not love ; because although the 
 lady herself was kind enough yet she had not that 
 sense that soul that radiance of mind, if I may 
 say so, which Flora has." 
 
 " Would they admire Flora at Vienna ?" 
 
 VOL. i. r
 
 2 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 ' She would turn their heads." 
 
 And they hers." 
 
 What a sensation she would produce at court ! 
 
 "I have half a mind to let her go." 
 
 " Do ! Let me take her." 
 
 " But what should 1 do without her?" 
 
 "Come you with us, and see the great world." 
 
 " One never knows when you are in earnest, 
 count." 
 
 ' You are looking splendidly to-night," said he, 
 half-whispering in her ear. 
 
 " Nonsense," said she, tapping him on the shoul- 
 der with her fan. 
 
 " With you two, your country would be well 
 represented at any court in Europe." 
 
 u Ah ! you men ! What can silly girls do, when 
 we women let you talk so !" 
 
 " I could worship Flora to-nighl," he said, in a 
 yet lower tone ; " only " 
 
 "Only what?" 
 
 Again he half- whispered in her ear. 
 
 " Go," she exclaimed, tapping him once more 
 with her fan " go ; you are positively dan- 
 gerous." 
 
 She left him as she spoke, and the last words 
 were uttered looking back. 
 
 " But where is Flora ?" said Mrs. Temple. 
 
 Flora had disappeared. 
 
 In the midst of the gayety and flash of the revel, 
 a servant entered with a note for Mr. Leslie. 
 
 " By your leave, fair wax," said the youth. 
 
 A few lines were scrawled in evident haste 
 " Urgent affair without a moment's delay at the 
 B. Hotel 'room No. 39 up-stairs wait with im- 
 patience particulars when we : meet Yours till 
 death Frederick Morton."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A ludicrous Incident, which, as ludicrous Incidents often do t 
 grows more serious towards the close. 
 
 " He is a devil in a private brawl : souls and bodies hath he 
 divorced three." Twelfth Night. 
 
 WHEN Leslie reached the B. Hotel, which was 
 about one minute's walk from Mrs. Temple's, he 
 was ushered by a man in waiting to " No. 39, up- 
 stairs ;" where he found Morton, with his hands 
 thrust into his pantaloons pocket, pacing, with long 
 strides, to and fro across the floor, half beside him- 
 self with passion. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, Leslie," he cried, grasp- 
 ing his hand with strong emotion " thank you, my 
 dear fellow. I declare ! you are a brave man and 
 a true friend." 
 
 " You have not called me, I trust, to the B. Hotel, 
 'room No. 39, up-stairs,' merely to tell me that?" 
 said Leslie, smiling. 
 
 " No, my dear boy ; that puppy that coward 
 that insolent impudent impertinent " 
 
 Tears of rage spoke what simple adjectives could 
 not express. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Why, that d d French count." 
 
 "What, Clairmont?" 
 
 "You know the scoundrel makes love to all the 
 women in town, without reference to age, size, or
 
 64 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 situation. For the last week he has taken my 
 
 sister" 
 
 * "Well." 
 
 " She is already crazy about him, and puts on 
 airs as if she were a countess. We did think he 
 was going to marry her quite, but (by heavens ! if 
 /had him here )" 
 
 " Well, well, my good fellow, go on." 
 
 " This night his lordship (/'// lordship him /) has 
 paid such marked attention to Flora Temple, that, 
 as a brother, I was compelled to resent it." He 
 raised his chin a little in the air, and, lowering his 
 voice, added, " Besides other very particular rea- 
 sons concerning Flora herself." 
 
 " Other reasons ! why, what is Miss Temple to 
 you ?" 
 
 "That" very emphatic, "you will know pres- 
 ently." 
 
 "And how did you resent it?" 
 
 " In the first place," said Morton, " I gave him 
 a look you should have seen me such a look ! 
 Even that alone, if he has the soul of a hare, he 
 must notice. Besides " 
 
 " But he has not the soul of a hare. He is a very 
 brave man. He is a lion. He is a perfect devil," 
 said Norman. 
 
 "I'll have satisfaction, notwithstanding," cried 
 Morton. 
 
 " Satisfaction !" echoed Leslie ; "I do not know 
 what you call satisfaction, but are you aware that 
 he is a dead shot?" 
 
 " You don't say so !" said Morton, turning slightly 
 pale, and his boisterous fury undergoing a sensible 
 abatement. 
 
 " He can snuff a candle ten times in succession," 
 said Norman, dryly. 
 
 " You don't say so !" 
 
 " He can shoot a bullet out of one pistol into the 
 muzzle of another."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 65 
 
 " Good God ! Now, Leslie, you are joking ; you 
 are, I declare." 
 
 " Not joking in the least," replied Norman ; " did 
 you never hear of the French general whom he 
 killed one morning, before breakfast, for looking 
 under the veil of a Veronese lady he was in love 
 with ?" 
 
 " Never, as I am alive, I do declare." 
 
 " But you are not alive you are a dead man 
 you might as well leap into the crater of a volcano 
 as go a step farther in this business. Then there's 
 the duel at the South have you forgotten that ?" 
 
 " He shot his man there, too, didn't he ?" 
 
 " Directly through the heart," said Norman. "I 
 trust in heaven, Morton, you have not done any 
 thing worse than look at him." 
 
 "Yes, but I have, though," answered Morton, 
 now actually frightened at the recollection of his 
 own audacity ; " I brushed against him particularly 
 as I came out, in the presence of Flora." 
 
 " You are a dead man," said Norman. 
 
 " Well, now, I declare that is exceedingly dis- 
 agreeable." 
 
 " You will receive a challenge before morning." 
 
 " And here it comes," cried the astounded young 
 man ; again turning pale, as a servant entered, and 
 handed him a note. 
 
 " Take it, Leslie." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Leslie ; " he is elegant in 
 his indignation, rose paper a cameo seal ' Mr. 
 Frederick Morton B. Hotel, room No. 39.' Why, 
 this is a female hand ; and if I could credit my 
 own eyes I should pronounce it " 
 
 ". It is no challenge," said the relieved lover,, 
 blushing, and brightening up. " Give it me. A 
 challenge, indeed ! I should like to catch him at it. 
 I knew it was not. It is from Flora." 
 
 " Flora, again ! Flora Temple and to y<w* I" 1
 
 66 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " Why, certainly, Mr. Norman Leslie. Is there 
 any thing so very extraordinary in that ? We men, 
 you know ! Hey, my boy ? Now mum, and you 
 shall hear. There is more in this world than is 
 dreamed of in your philosophy." 
 
 " There is, indeed," said Norman, lifting his eyes 
 in astonishment. 
 
 "Be mute, then," rejoined Morton, " and be in- 
 structed." 
 
 " Is it possible !" thought Norman, musing, while 
 Morton threw his eyes over the letter. " What, 
 Flora Flora Temple ! the high, the accomplished, 
 the gifted ! Who shall read woman !" 
 
 " Fire and thunder !" cried Morton. " Death 
 and fury ! Leslie, a flirt, by heavens ! You yourself 
 saw " and the agitated and enraged youth crushed 
 the letter in his hand, stamped his foot, and leaned 
 his forehead upon his clenched fist. 
 
 " What is if, Morton ? what is it, my good fel- 
 low?" asked Norman, really pitying his dilemma, 
 but with the greatest difficulty repressing a smile ; 
 for, however severe may be the pang inflicted, a 
 rejected lover has but a slender chance of sym- 
 
 pathy. 
 "Les 
 
 jslie," said Morton, apparently swallowing, 
 or rather gulping down, his disappointment with a 
 ludicrous effort, and one or two bitter contortions 
 of countenance " Leslie, my dear fellow, it is a 
 that is in short it is nothing a mere joke ;" he 
 forced an unhappy laugh ; " but it all comes," and 
 he set his teeth, " I know it all comes from that 
 d d French count" 
 
 " Don't swear," said a third voice. 
 
 " Halloo ! who the devil's that ?" cried Morton. 
 
 " The d d French count, at your service, Mr. 
 
 Frederick Morton," said Clairmont, who had en- 
 tered unperceived, and now stood, his arms folded, 
 a cool sneer on his lip, and his eyes sternly fixed 
 upon Morton.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 67 
 
 "Well, sir," demanded Morton, starting up, and 
 assuming a blustering air and attitude, " by what 
 authority, sir, do you intrude yourself into my 
 room, sir? this is my room, sir, while I am in it. 
 I command you to leave it, sir this instant, sir !" 
 he made a motion of his head to Norman, as if call- 
 ing upon his attestation to his courage, which, in 
 fact, seemed not a little to surprise himself. 
 
 " I will leave the room, Master Morton," re- 
 plied the count, coldly, " when I have accomplished 
 the purpose which brought me into it." At the 
 same moment he discovered a riding-whip, which 
 he held in his hand. " You owe your life to Miss 
 Temple." 
 
 " Leave the room, sir !" 
 
 " She observed your rudeness to me as you 
 came out, and laid me under an obligation not to 
 pursue it, as I should deem myself bound to do 
 were you a gentleman." 
 
 " Leave the room, I tell you !" roared Morton, 
 stamping his foot furiously. 
 
 " I do not, however, pass your insult altogether 
 without notice. You are an impertinent rascal " 
 
 " Leave the room, sir ! or I will call the watch." 
 
 " You are an insignificant scoundrel and cow- 
 ard" 
 
 "If you don't leave the room this very instant, 
 sir " shouted Morton, frantic with rage, and 
 placing himself, with many pugilistic flourishes, in 
 an attitude sometimes of attack and sometimes of 
 defence. 
 
 " And I shall inflict upon you," continued Clair- 
 mont, with the most perfect composure, "the chas- 
 tisement which your vulgarity deserves." He 
 raised his whip, and followed the retreating Morton 
 to the farthest corner of the room. 
 
 " Ask my pardon instantly, sir, or I flog you like 
 a dog."
 
 68 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 I shall not ask your pardon, sir," bawled Mor- 
 ton, in a tone between the threat of a bully and the 
 whine of a whipped schoolboy. " If you touch 
 me, sir, I'll have the satisfaction of a gentleman. 
 
 shall ask nobody's pardon, d n, sir ! Leave the 
 
 room don't strike me, sir don't strike Leslie, 
 take off this blood-hound waiter ! waiter ! 
 here watch ! watch ! Leslie, for God's sake ! 
 you are a d- d scoundrel, sir !" 
 
 "If Mr. Leslie interferes," said the count, 
 calmly proceeding in his design, and raising the 
 whip, " Mr. Leslie will share your fate." 
 
 " Count Clairmont," said Leslie, who had already 
 walked to his side, and in a voice so deep that the 
 count turned and remained motionless to hear his 
 words. " Count Clairmont, however reluctant I 
 may be to interfere in the quarrels of another, I 
 shall not be backward in assuming my own. Your 
 remark is a personal insult. I have already re- 
 mained too long inactive by the side of my friend. 
 Permit me to inform you that this apartment is 
 private." 
 
 "Mr. Leslie," replied the ec-unt, "your sneers 
 and your threats are equally below my regard. 
 This person I shall punish by the whip. Your 
 claims upon my attention, sir, will be answered in 
 a different way. You may not be so fortunate as 
 to have a lady for a protector." Again he turned 
 to Morton, and raised the whip. 
 
 "Count Clairmont," cried Leslie, "if you in- 
 deed be a count, hear me. I think you a scoun- 
 drel." 
 
 A blow of the whip was the only reply, and in 
 an instant the young nobleman lay at his length 
 upon the floor. 
 
 " Norman Leslie," cried he, rising, his face white 
 as death, yet speaking with a low and altered voice, 
 and regarding him with the fiendish fixedness of a
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. O3 
 
 serpent about to dart his death-fang " Norman 
 Leslie, you have disgraced me, and I will have 
 your heart's blood !" 
 
 " As you please, sir," replied Norman, sternly ; 
 "but now begone !" and, flashing back glance for 
 glance, he stepped two strides towards his foe. 
 
 The discomfited noble paused a moment upon 
 the threshold, and looked once more into Leslie's 
 face, with a gaze which, in spite of himself, chilled 
 even the boiling blood in the youth's veins. It was 
 the black scowl of a demon. His features then re- 
 laxed slowly into a still smile if possible, yet more 
 malignant and inhuman. 
 
 "Remember, Norman Leslie," he said, " I will 
 have your heart's blood ! 1 am a Catholic. Here is 
 a cross. Look / swear it !" 
 
 He pressed the jewelled relic convulsively to his 
 lips, and disappeared. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 In which the Reader will note the Difference between a young 
 Gentleman's Thoughts of a Night and his Actions of a 
 Morning, 
 
 " God bless me from a challenge !" 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing. 
 
 " WATCHMAN, what light burns yonder in the 
 sky?" asked Leslie, as he walked home, alone, 
 from Mrs. Temple's ; " can it be a fire ?" 
 
 " Why, it's the morning !" growled the surly 
 guardian of the night. 
 
 " And so it is !" exclaimed Norman, looking at 
 his watch.
 
 70 NORMAN LESLIK. 
 
 The young man walked on ; there was a fever 
 on his cheek and in his heart. There is a singular 
 power in the calmness of night, and in the holy 
 silence and order of nature, upon the imagination 
 of one suddenly freed from the giddy throng and 
 glare of a revel. How it hushes the ordinary pas- 
 sions ! The mind, which has been like a stream 
 disturbed, settles into a wonderful clearness ; and 
 you see defined thoughts and minute feelings far 
 down in its transparent depths. But night is no- 
 where so impressive and solemn as in the worn 
 haunts of a mighty city. You behold the aban- 
 doned paths with something of the feelings with 
 which you pause among the ruins of an ancient 
 town. True, in the one case ages have rolled 
 away since the solitude was broken by eager and 
 thoughtless steps ; and in the other, only hours : 
 
 it the effect upon the observer is strangely alike, 
 he human sea has washed from its shores, and 
 left the marked and naked channels exposed to the 
 eye. The clash and roar of worldly interests have 
 died away: you' tread the solemn aisles, half-dis- 
 engaged from earthly anxieties and excitations, 
 with the cold and passionless loneliness of a 
 spectre. Are there those sleeping around who 
 have awakened your hatred ? how its secret 
 fires seem dimmed and burned out ! Can you look 
 upon the heavens, strown with mysterious and 
 eternal worlds, lying in their same bright places 
 for ever ! on which all the great of history, 
 Homer, Socrates, and Alexander, Sylla, Caesar, 
 and Pompey, Mohammed and Jesus, have fixed 
 their eyes upon which, the startled imagination 
 cannot conjecture for how many thousand years 
 to come, other immortal heroes and poets may 
 gaze, can you look upon them, and hate one of 
 the myriads who are floating away with you, be- 
 fleath their calm faces, like the specks that hang
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 71 
 
 in their beams? Can you exalted, purified as 
 your mind then is hate any less object than those 
 evil principles, those tremendous passions and 
 vices, which have clouded the paths of human 
 beings wiih darkness and wo? 
 
 But if you have been guilty of a rash action, if 
 you have been the yielding victim of some moment- 
 ary impulse or local interest, how wondering and 
 abashed are you in those holy moments ! How 
 noble, then, does virtue appear ! How vast and 
 high seems love ! How unutterably insignificant 
 and mean those motives and influences which 
 tempt the energies and guide the destinies of the 
 human race ! 
 
 The waning moon was high in heaven ; and her 
 faint light yet touched the surrounding objects 
 with edges of silver. The long vistas of densely- 
 built streets, with their silent and deserted pave- 
 ments and closed shutters, stretched away from. 
 Leslie's eyes. No one was to be seen, but a dog 
 that stole up timidly, crouching, and placed his 
 head under the hand of the -night- wanderer,as if with 
 a human weariness of the death-like solitude; and 
 here and there a watchman leaning in the shadow, 
 and ever and anon striking his club sharply against 
 the stones a signal answered by others in a simi- 
 lar way, and faintly heard through the distance of 
 the echoing streets. Above, the stars had faded 
 in the opening light, all hut a few large and lus- 
 trous orbs, which lay scattered about the pearly 
 void, kindling and burning like lumps of soft fire. 
 Norman paused, and bent his eyes upward ; one 
 bright planet, the largest in heaven, hung before 
 him. 
 
 " How apt the emblem is!" he thought. "And 
 the great poet in this, as in all things, how won- 
 derfully he has written ! Yon ' bright particular 
 star' in one exquisite phrase, what eloquence !
 
 72 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 what power! How it images the beauty, and 
 fervour, and worship of love ! Thus she glides 
 on ever calm, bright, and pure above the earth, 
 though shining on it. Who will reach her ! Who 
 will win confiding looks from those laughing eyes, 
 and veil their young mirth in the tenderness of 
 love! Whose hand will put back, unreproved,the 
 hair from that brow ! Whose bosom will beat 
 beneath that graceful head ! Whose rich blessed 
 lips will print on that sweet mouth the kiss of an 
 adored, a happy husband ! What ! Clairmont ! 
 Can her dreams be of him? Can he comprehend 
 her angelic nature ? What if she love him 1 
 What have I done? Rather my hand should 
 wither than injure one sanctified by her affections. 
 My worship for her cannot pause upon her own 
 matchless person. It would protect all she loves. 
 Yet what must I now do? A duel ! I who have 
 pretended to think who have professed principle 
 and morality ; I who have thought myself the 
 independent master and controller of my own 
 actions ; I am now plunged into a duel ! I have 
 chosen murder, or self-murder, for a companion. 
 Reason, religion, bid me withdraw ; but yet I can- 
 not: I have gone too far; I must proceed. My 
 father my sister should I fall, what will be their 
 feelings ? Should I triumph, what will be my 
 own ? In death all will despise, and in life all 
 will execrate me : she, perhaps, of all, the most. 
 This Clairmont why do I hate him ? Why 
 should I seek his blood ? Why should I blacken 
 and sear my soul for ever with a deed inhuman, 
 abhorrent, ghastly, against man, against nature, 
 against God ? What goads me to this ? the 
 finger of the scorner ! the laugh of the fool ! 
 Clairmont falls beneath my aim ; and with Clair- 
 mont, how many others fall ? If Flora loves him, 
 her young heart is crushed. How many others
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 73 
 
 are connected with him by human sympathies? 
 perhaps a mother, a sister, a friend. My own 
 hand will be smeared with human blood vast 
 classes of society mark me for a murderer the 
 domestic circle, now so happy, of my own bright 
 home overshadowed with the gloom of death! 
 But what do I say ? My blood must flow. He is 
 a sure and deadly enemy. The grave is then 
 for me a sudden, a gory, a youthful grave! 
 Startling tremendous sublime thought ! Earth, 
 ever burning sky, light, sound, morning, the 
 realm of the human race beings that 1 have 
 known, and loved farewell ! I quit you I quit 
 myself. This breathing form struck to nothing ! 
 this ranging and mysterious soul hurled into the 
 dim realm of spectres ! Broad and magnificent 
 nature! high and fairy dream of existence! ere to- 
 morrow night I plunge from you, headlong, into 
 the presence of God. A horrid vision !" 
 
 Bitterly, bitterly did the youth lament his 
 dilemma at that still and lonely hour. The crisis 
 in which he stood, and its possible consequences, 
 rose upon him in all their vast and naked horror ; 
 for the fumes of passion had vanished from his 
 mind, and left it intensely alive to the reaction of 
 reason. 
 
 The stars paled, the moon dissolved in a flood 
 of new light, and the fiery beams of morning 
 darted up the sky as he reached his home. 
 
 With the elasticity of youth, however, as the 
 day broadened, his mind recovered a more cheer- 
 ful tone, and he began to take brighter views of his 
 situation. Unable to sleep, he found the refresh- 
 ment of a warm-bath a tolerable substitute ; and 
 after a substantial breakfast, and renewing his toi- 
 let with even more than ordinary care, awaited in 
 a more agreeable mood the expected message. 
 Singular inconsistency of human nature, which per- 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 74 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 mits trifles so unimportant to share our minds 
 with events of such fearful interest ! A man care- 
 fully arranging his cravat-knot upon the brink of 
 eternity ! 
 
 At twelve, Captain Forbes of the army in- 
 quired for Mr. Leslie. He was shown into a pri- 
 vate apartment. 
 
 " You are Mr. Norman Leslie ?" 
 
 " I am, sir." 
 
 " You are aware " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " You understand that " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 "This note my friend Count Clairmont begged 
 me to deliver, with express injunctions to receive 
 no apologies." 
 
 " Your friend's injunctions were as insolent, sir, 
 as they were unnecessary," said Leslie, sternly 
 and loftily. 
 
 " He apprehends " 
 
 " His apprehensions are groundless." 
 
 " My friend Count Clairmont requests me to 
 see this little matter brought immediately to a 
 close." 
 
 " To-night, if you please. This morning this 
 instant 1" 
 
 "No, no," said the captain; "that is 'imme- 
 diately' with a vengeance. I am engaged to- 
 night at the theatre ; but to-morrow morning, at 
 daybreak, if you can conveniently; for just now I 
 am overwhelmed with occupations." 
 
 " Any accommodation of that kind which I can 
 offer, either to Count Clairmont or to Count Clair- 
 mont's friend, will afford me infinite satisfaction." 
 
 " You will send me then a friend ?" 
 
 " With the necessary instructions." 
 
 " Mr. Leslie, I have the honour " 
 
 " Captain Forbes, your most obedient."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 75 
 
 They exchanged the parting salutations stiffly, 
 but courteously. As the officer withdrew, his re- 
 treating bow brought his body into contact with 
 that of a new comer, whose precipitate haste ren- 
 dered his momentum considerable. 
 
 " I do declare," cried Morton ; " my dearest sir, 
 I beg ten thousand million pardons." 
 
 " Not in the least," cried the captain, with mili- 
 tary brevity, and made his exit. 
 
 "So-ho !" said Morton, regarding the note; "it 
 has come then." 
 
 " My dear Morton," exclaimed Norman, " at 
 present you must excuse me " 
 
 " ' Not in the least/ Leslie, as the captain says ; 
 not for the world," answered Morton. " You must 
 not, you shall not fight that Clairmont. I have 
 made some inquiries respecting his skill at pistol 
 firing. I thought you were joking, last night, all 
 the while. I declare I had no idea. I took it all 
 for one of your solemn jests " 
 
 " My good Morton this afternoon to-morrow 
 morning " 
 
 " But it is true. It is more than true. There are 
 no two ways about it. Whew ! Why, he is a devil 
 incarnate ! You are a dead man ! He can snuff a 
 candle ! Remember the Veronese lady, hey ? the 
 duel at the South shoot a bullet out of the muz- 
 zle of" 
 
 " Morton, let go my button, my good fellow " 
 
 " But, seriously, Leslie, I have something to say 
 to you. Here, help me wheel around this big 
 chair ; and I'll tell you what you must let me do. 
 You see, /, being " 
 
 But he was alone ; Leslie having vanished the 
 instant his back was turned. 
 
 " Well, I declare !" said the surprised young gen- 
 tleman, after a full examination of the room, from 
 the ceiling to the floor, the interior of the book-
 
 76 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 cases, and under the tables " well, I declare I 
 never that's polite, anyhow ! If he meet that in- 
 fernal French count, there's an end of Norman 
 Leslie !" 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A Resolution, which will be condemned by some, applauded by 
 others, and imitated by none. 
 
 " 'Fore God ! man, do it. 'Tis a perilous strait : 
 But being the only one dragon or not, 
 Forth your good sword, and on !" 
 
 DUELLING has not wanted many grave and able 
 defenders. I do not allude to the victims of pas- 
 sion on the field. I speak of cool observers in the 
 closet ; advocates who, without denying its partial 
 absurdity and its inadequate local effects, without 
 contending that it is either a redress for private 
 grievances, or a test of individual courage in 
 short, fully granting it to be an evil, yet assert that 
 it is a necessary one, and that as an institution of 
 society it produces a public benefit more than suf- 
 ficient to counterbalance its particular disadvan- 
 tages. But, say its opposers, are we to admit an 
 evil for the sake of a consequent good ? This. 
 it is replied, is the pervading principle of human 
 communities, and of nature herself. Evil, inx 
 working out good through the realms of both, is 
 perhaps more efficacious than good itself. What 
 is it that has left the heavens a vault of stainless 
 azure ? It is the same tempest which shattered 
 the oak and swept away the harvest. What, at 
 the present most remarkable period of human his-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 77 
 
 tory, has sent abroad among mankind light, 
 knowledge, and power has lowered the auda- 
 cious pride and weakened the monstrous sway of 
 the few has broken the fetters of the many and 
 raised the people to that broad and rightful pos- 
 session of the globe plainly indicated as the inten- 
 tion of their Creator ; what has effected this ? an 
 appeal to arms the shock of bloody battles. War 
 is an evil ; but without war all mankind would 
 now be slaves. What are the good effects of du- 
 elling ? Its champions declare that it raises the 
 tone of society, and polishes the manners. The 
 consciousness of this standard of appeal is a check 
 upon insolence and passion. Law punishes ; du- 
 elling prevents. There are many species of as- 
 sault upon a man's reputation or his person which 
 either cannot be brought within the reach of law, 
 or which, being brought within its reach, are but 
 inadequately noticed. The law makes distinc- 
 tions which gentlemen would hot, and ought not, 
 to make. The law looks to dollars and cents 
 not to feelings and sentiments : yet which, the 
 former or the latter, exert the greater influence 
 over human happiness ? The law is a selfish 
 creature. Infringe its own rights, however 
 slightly, nay, however accidentally, and it crushes 
 you with an unexamining, inexorable cruelty. 
 The law is also an uncouth and gigantic animal, 
 He stalks onward over the broad high ways of life. 
 He has to watch the whole country. He cannot 
 always penetrate into the quiet by-paths and re- 
 cesses of lov and peace. Call a man a bad law- 
 yer, or an unskilful physician, and the . law 
 awards damages, because the terms are injurious 
 to the means by which he gains his livelihood. 
 But post him as a paltry scoundrel, or a mean 
 shuffling' fellow, and the law holds forth no re- 
 dress. If one, however unjustly, stigmatize you
 
 78 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 as a liar in the face of the world if he slander 
 you to your mistress, or insult the lady who de- 
 pends upon you for protection the door of the 
 legal tribunal is closed against you : but should 
 you, with a manly indignation, or a chivalric im- 
 pulse to defend woman, level the assailant to the 
 earth you are yourself the victim, and the law, 
 which refused to defend you, punishes you for 
 having defended yourself. The law was made to 
 regulate the traffic of merchants, not the inter- 
 course of gentlemen. Again, say the advocates 
 of duelling, all men have not equal personal 
 strength: something is requisite to place the 
 weak upon a level with the strong. It is true 
 that this ordeal is as likely to eventuate in the 
 ruin of the innocent as the guilty ; or even that 
 the quarrelsome and brutal, by making pistol- 
 firing a study, may acquire precision and skill not 
 likely to be possessed by the peaceful, unaccus- 
 tomed to unlace their reputations in brawls. 
 But it is answered to this, that the more perilous 
 the conflict of men is made, the less frequent will 
 be those conflicts ; and that what is lost by the in- 
 dividual parties engaged in a duel is gained by 
 society at large in the general caution against 
 quarrels, inasmuch as men will more care what 
 they say and do when they know that an indis- 
 cretion may forfeit their lives. 
 
 These were the thoughts that revolved through 
 the mind of Leslie as he walked forth with the 
 purpose of seeking a friend. He was not one to 
 sink before approaching danger ; but notwith- 
 standing the hackneyed sophistries with which he 
 endeavoured to hush the voice of his reason, 
 upon the folly and guilt of staking his life upon 
 the impulses of a brawl and the passion of a mo- 
 ment, yet his constitutional sensitiveness, his 
 imaginative and warm disposition, and his plain
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 79 
 
 common sense, combined to make him quail ever 
 and anon at the stunning prospect of death or 
 murder, which now seemed to block up and con- 
 clude his earthly career. I am not drawing the 
 character of a coward, though I am aware that 
 there are many gentlemen whom such a dilemma 
 would agitate with fewer scruples of conscience, 
 those who follow war as a profession, and whose 
 moral sense is blunted by habit ; or the mere 
 eUgant of the ton, whose intellect and feelings are 
 long ago usurped by the heartless dogmas of fash- 
 ionable life. Much less courageous and elevated 
 men may find themselves in the situation of 
 Leslie, without shuddering. What they dignify- 
 as courage does not merit the name. In some it 
 is want of reflection ; in some, a savage habit ; in 
 some, brute obtusity, and an inability to reason on 
 high and broad grounds. Many narrow and me- 
 diocre minds find ia it a hope of importance 
 which they can never obtain by other means, and 
 are willing to risk an existence of which they 
 have never learned to appreciate the value or to 
 commit a crime of which they have not the sensi- 
 bility or reflection to perceive the horror that they 
 may enjoy the temporary triumph of newspaper 
 notoriety, or strut the hero of a bar-room, insolent 
 with impunity, among braggarts and bullies less 
 bloody and renowned. Bodily courage is one of 
 the lowest qualities which pass among the vir- 
 tues. It is least connected with the nobler and 
 more useful attributes of humanity, is shared by 
 a greater number, and is more linked with the 
 bestial portion of our nature. I am speaking only 
 of that mere bodily courage which makes soldiers 
 brave in war ; or which induces a man to station 
 himself deliberately, on some delicious summer 
 morning, upon a piece of greensward, and let an- 
 other leisurely aim and fire a pistol at his heart.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 This brute courage, in which, after all, bulls and 
 bears (amiable rivalship !) equal or excel us, 
 gained its high reputation among the ancient 
 nations who lived to grasp the possessions of their 
 weaker neighbours ; who had no other name for 
 virtue ; who were ignorant of that mighty sense of 
 right which now, century by century, is entering 
 more deeply into the human mind ; and who fan- 
 cied that the Superior Powers attended each con- 
 test, and took care that the honest party should 
 have fair play. These opinions have been ex- 
 ploded, but the custom remains a dark, unchris- 
 tian wreck, like some time-worn pagan altar, where, 
 strange to think, even to-day the high-priest offi- 
 ciates and the human victim bleeds. 
 
 As Leslie ran over in his mind the common 
 arguments in support of the step he was about to 
 take, his clear reason detected their fallacy. He 
 acknowledged as a rational being their absurdity, 
 their cold cruelty, and their monstrous guilt. He 
 recoiled instinctively from pouring forth the blood 
 of a fellow-creature, or his own. He doubted, with 
 great propriety, too, whether the public could be a 
 gainer by such a practice. He knew that, eventu- 
 ate as it might, his own peace must be shattered 
 for ever. He was about to rush on a crisis which 
 reason and religion alike condemned. It was an 
 act which neither Heaven nor earth would deem 
 noble. None would even approve it, but those 
 whose approbation he despised. The world's ap- 
 plause and future fame were denied him. He had 
 not even a high and honourable motive in his own 
 bosom to support him in this deep and secret de- 
 spondency. Life was doubly dear to him now, for 
 it began to be interwoven with the thought of Flora 
 Temple ; and in his heart he felt no stronger sen- 
 timent against Clairmont than simple contempt. 
 He had not a friend on earth whom this measure
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 81 
 
 would not distress and shock ; and he was driven 
 to it neither by his interests nor his inclinations. 
 Had he been the deadly marksman instead of his 
 antagonist, he would have refused a meeting. He 
 could not apologize ; nor would apologyhave been 
 accepted. If not, there would be a new degrada- 
 tion, a new insult and both useless. Besides, 
 even had he been wrong, would he be excusable 
 in tendering an apology ? It had been expressly 
 declared that " no apology" would be received. 
 But he was not prepared to confess himself wrong. 
 " No," he said at length to himself, with the 
 deep determination natural in a high-tempered 
 young man as society is organized ; " this meet- 
 ing must take place. It must it shall. I am the 
 blind victim of a dire, a fatal necessity. If there 
 be guilt, let it rest on the community who coun- 
 tenance this atrocious custom. Let it rest on the 
 women who smile upon the duellist, and among 
 whom Clairmont ranks higher because he has 
 killed a human being, and to whose laurel my 
 death may add another leaf. I am myself with- 
 out skill. He is a cool, a practised, a professed 
 duellist. As such he is received and honoured in 
 my own circle. Mrs. Temple avowedly admires 
 him for his courage. Even Flora hangs on his 
 arm, and smiles, and jests ; even Flora touches 
 that hand in the dance scarcely yet washed from 
 the stain of a brave man's blood. They all know 
 he glories in taking human life ; and that he par- 
 ticularly piques himself upon an aim never known 
 to miss its mark. That very peril which renders 
 my destruction inevitable, renders my retreat im- 
 possible ; for that would now seem cowardice 
 which in less dangerous circumstances might be 
 acknowledged as principle. Yet it is not courage 
 which impels me. No I will not deceive my- 
 self. What will pass for courage in me is only
 
 82 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 hypocrisy. My heart sickens my soul recoils 
 I shudder. It is fear which whips me on, and 
 which startles me back. Not the fear of death. 
 Were that death to be encountered for Flora- 
 were I to meet a lion on the arena for her were 
 I to brave pestilence chains torture how calm 
 
 how high how brave I should be ! But here I 
 
 tremble at the sin the ignominy the deep 
 wound I must inflict upon the heart of a father 
 and a sister. I tremble to have all my glittering 
 dreams and broad proud plans crushed by a cool, 
 vile, heartless villain. But" and he stepped with 
 a higher and more solemn emotion " my strug- 
 gles are over. This ' terrible feat' must be done. 
 My agonies and my doubts are alike useless and 
 idle." 
 
 And with the power of mind which perhaps 
 more accomplished duellists could not have com- 
 manded, he dismissed, at least for a period, the re- 
 flections which unnerved him. Indeed, after the 
 first recoil, his strong nerves and manly heart 
 grew stronger and manlier. Enthusiastic men - 
 those at first most startled- are apt to meet sudden 
 and extraordinary dangers, when once shown to 
 be inevitable, with a mounting spirit, and a con- 
 centrated faculty of thinking and acting which 
 breaks thrillingly in upon the common monotony 
 of existence, and stirs up their souls like the blast 
 of a trumpet. As he proceeded on his way, how- 
 ever, he could not banish the thought of Flora 
 Temple. This charming and lovely girl had 
 already gained strangely upon his affections, and 
 her image was now received into his mind with 
 new and inexpressible tenderness. It seemed that 
 the very seriousness of his danger quickened and 
 brought to the surface of his heart all those latent 
 and powerful fires which had hitherto lurked in its 
 most secret recesses. It was the dawning of a
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. Cd 
 
 new and powerful passion in a young and ardent 
 character. It was a second love which (the poets 
 to the contrary notwithstanding) may be infinitely 
 stronger than the first. The sentiment rests more 
 upon the results of observation and comparison ; 
 and, by being better defined, is deepened and con- 
 centrated, ft was but a few hours since he had 
 left her the fairest in the brilliant circle. How 
 exquisitely her loveliness recurred to him as he 
 had last beheld her : that perfect form, full of 
 feminine grace and poetic character that bright, 
 sweet head the tender, blue, speaking eyes the 
 smile, the parting smile which he had exchanged 
 with her perhaps a parting for ever ! Then rose 
 the other shifting images of the night. The glit- 
 tering and remarkable beauty of Rosalie Romain 
 now cold to him the ludicrous fury and per- 
 plexity of poor Morton the cutting insult and 
 sarcastic insolence of the count, which struck on 
 his veins like lightning the retort the flash 
 the blow the fray Clairmont's demoniac look 
 and the hushed and starry heavens in his lonely 
 walk home all recurred to him, not with the 
 sense of reality, but as the incidents of some 
 melo-drama, or idle romance, or yet more idle 
 dream. As he hastened on amid all the noontide 
 splendour of the gay Broadway, he found it almost 
 impossible to believe that he was in reality stand- 
 ing at last upon the edge of that fearful brink 
 which appals alike the king, the philosopher, and 
 the beggar where they all must meet in the 
 equal nakedness and weakness of mortal impo- 
 tence and apprehension ; that while around him 
 glittered so much elegance, gayety, and common- 
 place bustle while many a sweet, familiar face 
 smiled on him as he proceeded, and many a friend 
 of his own sex gave him, in careless haste, the 
 passing nod of salutation that he was stealing on-
 
 84 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 ward like a thins: of death, lent for a few hours to 
 roam the earth, and destined ere to-morrow's sun- 
 set to be the tenant of a hasty and dishonoured 
 grave. 
 
 A few moments (for we think much faster than 
 we write) brought him to the house of Howard. 
 He was not at home. Near the residence of 
 Howard was that of Kreutzner, a brave and gal- 
 lant young German student from one of those cel- 
 ebrated universities famed for romantic occur- 
 rences. He was a bold and attractive character, 
 and one of Leslie's intimates. To Kreutzner, 
 therefore, he went, and, beyond his hopes, found 
 him in. -They walked forth together, and Leslie 
 had no sooner related the whole incident than 
 Kreutzner remarked, 
 
 " It is as I suspected. I meet Clairmont often 
 
 at B 's. I heard him, this morning, with a 
 
 most singular expression of countenance, say to 
 Forbes ' That Leslie is a man I have always 
 hated. I would wing him, and so let him off ; but, 
 by G , I will make an end of him !' Not to 
 Philip's right eye, but to Philip's heart, he is to 
 send his arrow." 
 
 " And shall I, then," cried Norman, flushing 
 with indignation, and speaking, as he generally 
 both spoke and acted, from impulse, while in one 
 instant all his fine moral principles melted to air 
 " shall I throw away my life tamely ? shall he 
 live hereafter the gay Adonis of the ball, and ex- 
 tend to the touch of fawning girls the hand which 
 has consigned me to a bloody grave ?" 
 
 "What can you do?" asked Kreutzner; "are 
 you an adept at the pistol ?" 
 
 " No and that Clairmont well knows." 
 
 " He will kill you dead as sure as he fires," re- 
 joined Kreutzner. 
 
 " And I cannot for ten thousand lives," added
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 85 
 
 Leslie, " make the slightest move to retreat or ex- 
 plain." 
 
 " He has sworn to have your heart's blood. He 
 will keep his oath." 
 
 " Kreutzner," said Leslie, after a long pause, and 
 without any other alteration of countenance and 
 manner than a slight paleness, a scarce percepti- 
 ble tremour of the voice, which, however, vanished 
 as he continued, and a cairn and almost fearful 
 determination in his eye "Kreutzner, I have 
 examined this subject, you will readily believe, 
 with the greatest attention. Since this Clair- 
 mont last night fell prostrate beneath my arm, 
 I have viewed my situation in all its bearings. 
 Cruelty forms no part of my character. I cannot 
 plant my foot upon a spider without a thrill and 
 a shudder of painful compassion. I think life of 
 all things the most mysterious and sacred ; and to 
 quench it, or lose it, of all calamities the most 
 undefinably and tremendously awful. I know all 
 this all you will say all the world will say ; 
 yet I see that I must die and I will not die alone." 
 
 " Leslie, for Heaven's sake" 
 
 " Hear me : do not attempt to reason with me 
 do not attempt to change my resolution. You 
 cannot do it. I never felt so perfectly, so 
 strangely, so unutterably calm and fixed as I do 
 now. I hate duelling. I know it is immoral. I 
 know the penalty ; but I now find in my soul 
 what I never found there before that concen- 
 trated principle of fierce and desperate self-defence 
 which excludes every consideration except itself. 
 I die, Kreutzner, my friend I die, young, un- 
 honoured ; but he who has pushed me to this 
 extremity does not know me. My mind is com- 
 pletely settled. Clairmont and myself to-morrow 
 night sleep in the same red grave make your 
 arrangements foot to foot breast to breast. 
 
 TOL. i. H
 
 86 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 God, Kreut2ner, it is awful ! but it is soul-stirring 
 and sublime." 
 
 Kreutzner looked at his friend his lofty step, 
 his flashing eyes, his noble countenance, and stately 
 form ; and he thought, with almost a feeling of 
 woman's tenderness, of the approaching moment 
 which would lay them low in the dust. 
 
 " I have written letters to my father and to Julia," 
 continued Leslie. " You will find them on my 
 table in a large volume of Josephus. I will leave 
 there also a note for Howard. He is a good fellow. 
 Tell him I called on him first to support me in 
 this somewhat serious affair, and that I love him. 
 God bless him ! with all my heart. And also, 
 Kreutzner, I will but no why should I ? No 
 I will not ! Yet should you ever see in the con- 
 duct of our friend Miss Temple Miss Temple 
 any thing to make you believe she really regrets 
 my death " 
 
 " You are getting devilish sentimental," inter- 
 rupted Kreutzner, hastily passing his hand over 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Kreutzner, my dear friend," said Nor- 
 man, "you deserve my confidence. Indeed, at 
 this moment, I could not if I would withhold it 
 from you. I do not wish to do so. I love Miss 
 Temple, Kreutzner I love her dearly deeply 
 tenderly ; her image will be the last, the very 
 last in my memory. Tell her so, Kreutzner not 
 at once hereafter on some mild and mellow 
 afternoon in summer, when you shall be alone 
 with her and when I" 
 
 " Norman Leslie !" cried Kreutzner ; " d n it, 
 man, who'd have thought this of me ;" and, taking 
 out his handkerchief hemming and clearing his 
 throat he blew his nose sonorously, and availed 
 himself of the opportunity to dry his eyes once
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 87 
 
 more. " Can I alter your determination to meet 
 Clairmont as you propose ?" 
 
 " No 1" replied Norman. 
 
 " Then, d n me, if I don't think you'll frighten 
 him out of it. For if Count Clairmont of the 
 French army be not at heart a complete coward, 
 then John Kreutzner is no judge of cowards. 
 Walk up Broadway with me : I'll tell you a story 
 a devilish good one, by-the-way ; and, d n it," 
 he added, par parenthese, blowing his nose again, 
 " I can finish it long before I get to Forbes's !" 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The German Student's Story. 
 
 < If this were played upon a stage, now, I would condemn it as 
 an improbable fiction." Twelfth. Night. 
 
 " I HAVE myself," said Kreutzner, " witnessed 
 many duels ; but we are not so blood-thirsty, 
 generally speaking, as you moral Americans. We 
 usually settled these matters with a sword, a better 
 method, by-the-way, and more worthy of a soldier 
 than your cold murderous pistol-firing. Any pol- 
 tron may pull a trigger, but it requires the firm 
 hand and steady eye of a man to manage the steel. 
 However, as I was saying, when I was at Jena 
 they called each other out as merrily as beaux and 
 belles to a dance. It was but the treading on a 
 toe the brushing of an elbow ; nay, an accidental 
 look that fell on them when they wished not obser- 
 vation, and the next day, or, by St. Andrew, the
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 next hour, there was the clash of steel, and the 
 stamping of feet on the greensward ; and the 
 kindling and flashing of fiery eyes and plunge 
 and parry, and cut and thrust, till one or both lay 
 stretched at length a pass through the body a 
 gash open in the cheek the scull cleft down, or 
 a hand off, and the blood bubbling and gushing forth 
 like a rill of mountain-water. There were more 
 than one of those fellows devils I must say, who, 
 when they found among them some strange student, 
 timid or retired, whose character they were un- 
 acquainted with, or whose courage they doubted, 
 would pass the hint out of mere sport brush his 
 skirt charge the offence upon him demand an 
 apology too humble for a hare, and dismiss him 
 from the adventure only with an opened shoulder, 
 or daylight through his body." 
 
 " The ruffians !" cried Norman. 
 
 " Not in the least," returned Kreutzner, laughing ; 
 "you would have loved them, like brothers, had 
 you known their hearts. It is all education and 
 custom." 
 
 " But to the story, Kreutzner." 
 
 "There was among us one fellow named Mentz, 
 who assumed, and wore with impunity, the charac- 
 ter of head bully. He was foremost in all the 
 deviltry. His pistol was death, and his broad- 
 sword cut like the scissors of fate. It was curious 
 to see the fellow fire one, two, three, and 
 good-by to his antagonist. His friendship was 
 courted by all ; for to be his enemy was to lie in a 
 bloody grave. At length, grown fearless of being 
 called to account, he took pride in insulting stran- 
 gers and even women. His appearance was 
 formidable : a great burly giant, with shaggy black 
 hair, huge whiskers, and grim mustaches, three 
 inches long, twirled under his nose. A sort of 
 beauty he had too : and among the women Lord
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 89 
 
 help us wherever those mustaches showed them- 
 selves every opponent abandoned the ground. It 
 was, at last, really dangerous to have a sweetheart ; 
 for out of pure bravado Mentz would push forward, 
 make love to the lady, frighten her swain, and 
 either terrify or fascinate herself. Should the 
 doomed lover offer resistance, he had no more to 
 do but call a surgeon ; and happy enough he con- 
 sidered himself if he escaped with the loss of his 
 teeth or an eye. He had killed four men who 
 never injured him wounded seventeen, and fought 
 twenty duels. He once challenged a whole club, 
 who had black-balled him anonymously ; and was 
 pacified only by being re-admitted, though all the 
 members immediately resigned, and the club was 
 broken up. I dwell on this character because " 
 
 " Because you think he resembles Clairmont," 
 said Norman ; " go on, I am interested." 
 
 "At last there came a youth into the university 
 slender, quiet, and boyish-looking, with a handsome 
 face, though somewhat pale. His demeanour, 
 though generally shy, was noble and self-possessed. 
 He had been but a short time among us, however, 
 before he was set down as a cowardly creature, 
 and prime game for the ' devils broke loose,' as the 
 gang of Mentz termed themselves. The coy youth 
 shunned all the riots and revels of the university 
 insulted no one ; and if his mantle brushed against 
 that of another, apologized so immediately, so 
 gracefully, and so gently, that the devil himself 
 could not have fixed a quarrel upon him. It soon 
 appeared, too, that Gertrude, the lovely daughter 
 of the Baron de Saale the toast of all the country 
 upon whom the most of us had gazed as on 
 something quite above us it soon appeared that 
 the girl loved this youthful stranger. Now Menfz 
 had singled Gertrude out for himself, and avowed 
 his preference publicly. Arnold, for thus was the 
 
 H2
 
 90 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 new student called, was rarely, if ever, tempted to 
 our feasts ; but once he came unexpectedly on a 
 casual invitation. To the great surprise and inter- 
 est of the company Mentz himself was there, and 
 seated himself, unabashed, at the table, though an 
 unbidden guest. The strongest curiosity at once 
 arose to witness the result ; for Mentz had sworn 
 that he would compel Arnold, on their first meeting, 
 to beg pardon on his knees for the audacity of 
 having addressed his mistress. It had not appeared 
 that Arnold knew any thing of Mentz's character, 
 for he sat cheerfully and gayly at the board, with 
 so much the manners of a high-born gentleman, 
 that every one admitted at once his goodness, his 
 intelligence, his grace, and his beauty ; and re- 
 gretted the abyss on the brink of which he uncon- 
 sciously stood. 
 
 " What, ho !' at length shouted Mentz, as the 
 evening had a little advanced, and the wine began 
 to mount : ' a toast ! Come drink it all ; and he 
 who refuses is a poltron and a coward. I quaff 
 this goblet fill to the brim to the health and 
 happiness of Gertrude de Saale the fairest of the 
 fair ! Who says he knows a fairer is a black liar, 
 and I will write the word on his forehead with a 
 red hot brand.' 
 
 "Never before had even Mentz betrayed his 
 brutal soul so grossly in words ; but the guests, who 
 knew that he was heated with wine, passed over 
 his coarse insult with shouts of laughter, and drank, 
 with riotous confusion, to Gertrude, fairest of the 
 fair. As the gleaming goblets were emptied, and 
 dashed rattling down again upon the table, Mentz 
 arose, and, with the bloated importance of a despot, 
 gazed around to see that all present had fulfilled 
 his orders. Every goblet was emptied but one, 
 which stood untasted untouched. On perceiving 
 this, the ruffian, leaning forward, fixed his eyes on
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 91 
 
 the cup, struck his brawny hand down fiercely on 
 the table, which returned a thundering clash and 
 rattle, and then repeated, in a voice husky with 
 rage 
 
 " ' There is a cup full : by St. Anthony ! I will 
 make the owner swallow its measure of molten 
 lead, if it remain thus one instant longer !' 
 
 " ' Drink it, Arnold drink it, boy ; keep thy hand 
 out of useless broils,' whispered a student near 
 him, rather advanced in age. 
 
 " ' Drink, friend !' muttered another, dryly, 'or he 
 will not be slow in doing his threat. I promise 
 thee ' 
 
 " Empty the cup, man !' cried a third ; never 
 frown and turn pale, or thy young head will lie 
 lower than thy feet ere to-morrow's sunset.' 
 
 " ' It is Mentz the duellist,' said a fourth. Dost 
 thou not know his wondrous skill. He will kill 
 thee as if thou wert a deer, if thou oppose him in 
 his wine. He is more merciless than a wild boar. 
 Drink, man, drink P 
 
 " These good-natured suggestions were uttered in 
 hasty and vehement whispers ; and, while the 
 students were thus endeavouring to palliate the 
 bloody catastrophe, the furious beast again struck 
 his giant hand down violently on the table, without 
 speaking, as if words were too feeble for his rage. 
 
 " During this interesting scene, the youth had re- 
 mained motionless, cool, and silent. A slight pallour, 
 but evidently more of indignation than fear, came 
 over his handsome features ; and his eyes dilated 
 with emotion, resting full and firm upon Mentz. 
 
 " * By the mass, gentlemen !' he said at length, 
 * I am a stranger here, and ignorant of the man- 
 ners prevalent in universities ; but if yonder person 
 be sane, and this no joke ' 
 
 " ' Joke !' thundered Mentz, foaming at the lip. 
 
 * ' I must tell you that I come from a part of the
 
 92 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 country where we neither give nor take such jokesy 
 or such insults.' 
 
 " ' Hast thou taken leave of thy friends ?' said 
 Mentz, partly hushed by astonishment ; ' and art 
 thou tired of life, that thou hurriest on so blindly to 
 a bloody pillow ! Boy ! drink, as I have told thee, 
 to Gertrude, fairest of the fair !' And his huge 
 round eyes opened, like those of a bull, upon a 
 daring victim. 
 
 " ' That Gertrude de Saale is fair and lovely,' 
 cried the youth, rising, ' may not be denied by me. 
 But I demand by what mischance I find her name 
 this night common at a board of rioters, and 
 polluted by the lips of a drunkard and a ruffian ?' 
 
 " ' By the bones of my father,' said Mentz, in a 
 tone of deep and dire anger, which had eer then 
 appalled many a stout heart ' by the bones of my 
 father, your doom is sealed ! Be your blood on your 
 own head. But,' said he, observing that the youth, 
 instead of cowering, bore himself more loftily, 
 ' what folly is this ! Drink, lad, drink ! and I hurt 
 thee not ! I love thy gallant bearing, and my 
 game is not such as thou.' 
 
 " He added this with a wavering of manner which 
 had never before been witnessed in him, for never 
 before had he been opposed so calmly and so 
 fiercely ; and, for a moment, he quailed beneath the 
 fiery glances darted at him from one whom he 
 supposed meeker than the dove. But, ashamed of 
 his transient fear, he added : 
 
 " ' Come to me, poor child ! Bring with thee thy 
 goblet bend at my foot quaff it as I have said, 
 and out of pity, I spare thy young head.' 
 
 " What was the astonishment of the company on 
 beholding Arnold, as if effectually awed by a mo- 
 ment's reflection, and the ferocious enmity of so 
 celebrated and deadly a foe, actually do as he was 
 commanded. He rose, took the cup, slowly ap-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 93 
 
 preached the seat of his insulter knelt and raised 
 the rim to his lips. Murmurs of* shame, shame, pol- 
 tron, coward !' came hot and thick from the group of 
 spectators, who had arisen in the excitement of 
 their curiosity, and stood eagerly bending forward, 
 with every eye fixed upon the object of their con- 
 tempt. A grim smile of savage triumph distorted 
 the features of Mentz, who shouted, with a hoarse 
 and drunken laugh 
 
 " ' Drink deep down with it to the dreg s !' 
 
 " Arnold, however, only touched the rim to his 
 lips, and waited a moment's silence, with an ex- 
 pression so scornful and composed that the hisses 
 and exclamations were again quelled ; when every 
 sound had ceased to a dead silence : 
 
 " ' Never,' he said, ' shall I refuse to drink to the 
 glory of a name I once loved and honoured Ger- 
 trude, fairest of the fair ! But,' he added, suddenly 
 rising and drawing up his figure, with a dignity 
 that silenced every breath, ' for thee, thou drunken, 
 bragging, foolish beast ! I scorn I spit upon I 
 defy thee ! and thus be punished thy base, brutal 
 insolence, and thy stupid presumption.' 
 
 " As he spoke he dashed the contents of the 
 ample goblet full into the face of Mentz ; and then, 
 with all his strength, hurled the massy goblet itself 
 at the same mark. The giant reeled and staggered 
 a few paces back ; and amid the shining liquor on 
 his drenched clothes and dripping features, a stream 
 of blood was observed to trickle down his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Never before was popular feeling more sud- 
 denly and violently reversed. The object of their 
 vilest execrations flashed upon them with the 
 immediate brightness of a superior being. A loud 
 and irrepressible burst of applause broke from 
 every lip, till the broad and heavy rafters above 
 their heads, and the very foundations of the floor,
 
 94 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 shook and trembled. But the peal of joy and ap- 
 probation soon ceased ; for although this inspiring 
 drama had so nobly commenced, it was uncertain 
 how it might terminate. Before the tyrant recov- 
 ered from the stunned and bewildered trance into 
 which the blow, combined with shame, grief, aston- 
 ishment, and drunkness, had thrown him, several 
 voices, after the obstreperous calls for silence usual 
 on such occasions, addressed the youth, who stood 
 cool and erect, with folded arms, waiting the course 
 of events. 
 
 " l Brave Arnold ! Noble Arnold ! A gallant 
 deed ! The blood of a true gentleman in his 
 veins !' 
 
 " ' But, canst thou fight ?' cried one. 
 
 " ' I am only a simple student, and an artist by 
 profession. I have devoted myself to the pencil 
 not the sword.' 
 
 "'But thou canst use it a little canst not?' 
 asked another. 
 
 " But indifferently,' answered the youth. 
 
 " ' And how art thou with the pistol ?' demanded 
 a third. 
 
 " ' My hand is unpractised,' replied Arnold. ' I 
 have no skill in shedding human blood.' 
 
 " ' 'Fore God ! then, rash boy, what has tempted 
 thee to this fatal extremity ?' 
 
 " ' Hatred of oppression,' replied the youth, in 
 all its forms ; and a willingness to die rather than 
 submit to insult.' 
 
 " * Die then thou shall ! and that ere to-morrow's 
 sun shall set !' thundered Mentz, starting up in a 
 phrensy, and with a hoarse and broken voice that 
 made the hearts of the hearers shudder as if at the 
 howl of a dog or a demon. ' 1 challenge thee to 
 mortal combat.' 
 
 " ' And I accept the challenge.' 
 
 " * It is for thee to name time, place, and weapon ; 
 but, as thou lovest me, let it not be longer than to-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 95 
 
 morrow night, or I shall burst with rage and impa- 
 tience.' 
 
 " * I love thee not, base dog !' replied Arnold ; 
 ' but thou shall not die so inglorious a death. I 
 will fight with thee, therefore, to-night.' 
 
 " ' By the mother of Heaven, boy !' cried Mentz, 
 more and more surprised, ' thou art in haste to sup 
 in hell !' and the ruffian lowered his voice. 'Art 
 thou mad ?' 
 
 " ' Be that my chance,' answered Arnold ; ' I 
 shall not be likely to meet, even in hell, a companion 
 so brutal as thou unless, which I mean shall be 
 the case, thou bear me company.' 
 
 " { To-night then be it,' said Mentz ; c though to- 
 night my hand is not steady ; for wine and anger 
 are no friends to the nerves.' 
 
 " ' Dost thou refuse me, then ?' demanded the 
 youth, with a sneer. 
 
 " ' By the mass, no ! but to-night is dark ; the 
 moon is down ; the stars are clouded ; and the 
 wind goes by in heavy puffs and gusts. Hear it 
 even now.' 
 
 "' Therefore,' said the youth, apparently more 
 coldly composed as his fierce rival grew more per- 
 ceptibly agitated 'therefore will we lay down 
 our lives here in this hall on this spot on this 
 instant even as thou standest now.' 
 
 " ' There is no one here who will be my friend,' 
 said Mentz ; so evidently sobered and subdued by 
 the singular composure and self-possession of his 
 antagonist, that all present held him in contempt, 
 and no one stirred. 
 
 " ' No matter,' cried Arnold ; ' I will myself 
 forego the same privilege.' 
 
 " ' And your weapons ?' said Mentz. 
 
 '"Are here,' cried Arnold, drawing them from 
 his bosom ; 'a surer pair never drew blood. The 
 choice is yours.'
 
 <QQ NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " The company began now to fancy that Arnold 
 had equivocated in disclaiming skill as a duellist ; 
 and from his invincible composure thought him a 
 more fatal master of the weapon than the bully 
 himself. The latter also partook of this opinion. 
 
 " Young man,' he cried, in a voice clouded and 
 low ; but stopped, and said no further. 
 
 Your choice !' said Arnold, presenting the 
 
 I 
 
 Mentz seized one desperately, and said 
 
 "'Now name your distance.' 
 
 "'Blood-thirsty wolf!' said Arnold, 'there shall 
 be no distance !' He then turned and addressed 
 the company. 
 
 " ' Gentlemen,' he said, ' deem me not either 
 savage or insane, that I sacrifice myself and this 
 brutal wretch thus before your eyes, and to cer- 
 tain and instant destruction. For me, 1 confess I 
 have no value in life. Her whom I loved I have 
 sworn to forget ; and if I existed a thousand years, 
 should probably never see again. This ruffian is 
 a coward, and fears to die ; though he does not fear 
 daily to merit death. I have long heard of his 
 baseness, and regard him as an assassin the enemy 
 of the human race and of God a dangerous 
 beast whom it will be a mercy and a virtue to 
 destroy. My own life I would well be rid of, but 
 would not fling it away idly when its loss may be 
 made subservient to the destruction of vice and 
 the relief of humanity. Here, then, I yield my 
 breath ; anfl here too this trembling and shrinking 
 craven shall close his course of debauchery and 
 murder. My companions, farewell : should any 
 one of you hereafter chance to meet Gertrude de 
 Saale, tell her I nobly flung away a life which her 
 falsehood had made me despise. And now, re- 
 creant,' he said, in a fierce tone, turning suddenly 
 towards Mentz, ' plant thy pistol to my bosom, as
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 97 
 
 I will plant mine to thine. Let one of the com- 
 pany cry three, and the third number be the signal 
 to fire.' 
 
 " With an increased paleness in his countenance, 
 but with even more ferocity and firmness, Arnold 
 threw off his cap, displaying his high brow and 
 glossy ringlets. His lips were closed and firm ; 
 and his eyes, which glistened with a deadly glare, 
 were fixed on Mentz. He then placed himself in 
 an attitude of firing ; broadened his exposed chest 
 full before his foe ; and with a stamp of fury and 
 impatience raised the weapon. The brow-beaten 
 bully attempted to do the same ; but the pistol, 
 held loosely in his grasp, whether by accident or 
 intention, went off before the signal. Its contents 
 passed through the garments of Arnold, who, lev- 
 elling the muzzle of his own, cried calmly ( On 
 your knees, base slave ! vile dog ! down ! or you 
 die !' 
 
 " Unable any longer to support his frame, the 
 unmasked coward sunk on both knees and prayed 
 for life with right-earnest vehemence. Again 
 wild shouts of applause and delight, and peals of 
 riotous laughter, stunned his ears. As he rose 
 from his humiliating posture, Arnold touched him 
 contemptuously with his foot. Groans and hisses 
 now began to be mingled with several missives. 
 Mentz covered his face with his hands and rushed 
 from the room. He was never subsequently seen 
 among us." 
 
 " And Arnold ?" inquired Norman. 
 
 " Had been jilted, like many a good fellow 
 before him, and as most men are who have to do 
 with women. He was but a poor artist, after all ; 
 and though my pretty mistress encouraged him 
 at first, taken by his person and manners, yet he 
 was not high enough for the daughter even of a 
 baron." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 98 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " And what became of Mentz ?" 
 
 "That I know not. He, too, soon afterward 
 vanished. Thus we meet and part in this world. 
 But I shall never forget the shout when Mentz's 
 knees touched the floor. It seems to me that the 
 echoes may scarcely yet be quiet in the woods of 
 Saxony." 
 
 " I understand the import of your story, Kreutz- 
 ner," said Norman, after a moment's pause ; " and 
 am glad to find you coincide with my own views. 
 It is my only chance, though a slender one. Fall 
 one, fall both. I will not be shot down with im- 
 punity by this professed, cold-blooded duellist." 
 
 Kreutzner received his instructions accordingly. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 In which the extremes of Happiness and Misery meet. 
 
 ' Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! 
 Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest ! 
 Thine be ilka joy and treasure 
 Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure." 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 AFTER Kroutzner left him Norman hastened 
 home, and employed an hour in writing several 
 brief letters, and making notes of certain arrange- 
 ments which he desired to have attended to, in 
 case of the event he anticipated. Having finished 
 these duties, he resolved to call on Miss Temple ; 
 a melancholy satisfaction which, while the party 
 of the preceding evening rendered necessary, was 
 peculiarly in consonance with his own feelings.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 99 
 
 Accordingly he once more bent his steps up 
 Broadway, and almost the first persons he met 
 were Mr. Romain and his daughter, in their car- 
 riage. The beautiful girl bowed her nodding 
 plumes to him with that same dangerous smile to 
 which, if report spoke truth, he, in common with 
 many an unwary swain, had ventured too near. 
 At a word from Mr. Romain, the coachman drew 
 in his horses near the sidewalk, and a motion from 
 Rosalie arrested his step. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Philosopher," she said, gayly and 
 familiarly, how does your wisdom hold out after 
 such a night of worldly pleasure ?" 
 
 "Failing vanished and gone/' he said, with 
 animation. 
 
 "Come, Leslie," exclaimed the old gentleman, 
 " we are about, after one or two turns, calling on 
 the Temples, and " 
 
 " And as pa is no c philosopher/ and I am a sad 
 hand at the business, we beg Mr. Leslie's com- 
 pany." 
 
 " With pleasure," cried Leslie ; and in a few 
 minutes he was rolling rapidly along towards the 
 mansion. 
 
 " Mr. Leslie," said Miss Romain, after a brief 
 silence, " do you know that you are very dull to- 
 day, and very " 
 
 "Stupid," said Leslie, rousing himself from his 
 revery. "Guilty guilty," he continued, gayly, 
 " and'l put myself upon your mercy." 
 
 " These women, Mr. Leslie," said Mr. Romain, 
 " imagine all who talk nonsense fluently to be men 
 of parts, and all who think more than they speak 
 to be stupid " 
 
 " No, pa no," said Rosalie, "I awfully aware," 
 and her eyes crossed those of Leslie, " that a gen- 
 tleman may be a stupid companion to ladies with- 
 out being actually a stupid gentleman."
 
 100 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " True," added Norman ; " Miss Remain is right. 
 All mankind, and womankind too, value things ac- 
 cording to their power upon their own happiness. 
 A Newton or a Galileo, listless, and wrapped up 
 in the solitude of his own meditations, would meet, 
 and would merit, less favour and cooler welcome 
 from a lady than the youth who joined her in music, 
 who sat by her side while she drew, who spoke to 
 her in a language congenial to her taste, and who 
 awoke in her feelings more interesting than the 
 stars or mathematics." 
 
 " That is right," Mr. Leslie ; " I would rather 
 have a sweet bird for a companion than a philoso- 
 pher ;" she glanced her eyes again, half-archly, half- 
 reproachfully, at Norman ; " for a bird comes at 
 my call feeds from my hand sings for me the 
 warbles I have taught him loves me only, and 
 nestles in my bosom." 
 
 " Phoo, child, nonsense," said Mr. Remain ; " men 
 cannot always be chatting to girls. They have 
 other matters in hand. They are involved in re- 
 flections upon business, or science." 
 
 " Old men, pa, like you, who have already wives 
 and daughters ; but the young gentlemen are not 
 or, at least," with another slight look and empha- 
 sis, "ought not to be so forgetful." 
 
 "Stuff, girl, stuff," answered the old gentleman, 
 bluntly ; " aged men or young, in these times, have 
 enough else to do than to flutter and chirp about 
 women. The wisest do not most excel in the par- 
 rot-talk of fashionable life." 
 
 " Parrot-talk, parrot-talkwhy, pa ! Why, Mr. 
 Leslie ! how can you sit there, like an owl, and 
 hear such calumnies on yourself, and me, and all 
 our friends ! As soon as gentlemen are married, 
 and settled in life, they think all talk parrot-talk' 
 that is not about commerce and politics." 
 
 " You are both right and both wrong," replied
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 101 
 
 Norman : " you, Miss Romain, to judge so harshly 
 of all men who are not versed in the easy elegance 
 of the drawing-room, and your father in too great 
 lenity towards men of sense, who, in the pride of 
 influence and learning, and in the importance of 
 their various avocations, forget what is due to wo- 
 man, even though she be not wife, mother, or sis- 
 ter ; for, after all, we must acknowledge that, al- 
 though she does nothing at our elections, and can 
 neither build nor command our ships, yet she ex- 
 erts a greater influence upon our happiness than 
 they who can " 
 
 The young lady clapped her hands in affected 
 delight. 
 
 " There, pa ! Do you hear that? Now you see 
 a little severity upon these sensible men is very 
 useful. See what a pretty piece of eloquence I 
 have lashed out of Mr. Leslie." 
 
 The young lady went on with her usual liveli- 
 ness. Sometimes she found in the huge omnibuses, 
 of which large numbers traversed the town in all 
 directions, loaded often with ten, fifteen, or twenty 
 people, an object of merriment. Never had Nor- 
 man known her to rattle on more unceasingly and 
 more gayly. There was Miss L , who had re- 
 jected thirty gentlemen actually already, at Wash- 
 ington, during the present session : her character 
 was dissected in ten words. There was Mr. 
 
 R , the author, turning the corner, whose new 
 
 poem she had just been reading, and which she 
 criticised with wit and judgment. Her father, a 
 plain and blunt man, rarely said much, and suffered 
 her to run on from topic to topic as wildly as she 
 pleased. In truth, she never appeared to Norman 
 more like the singular girl she really was than on 
 this day. She combined the most diametrically 
 opposite features of character. At one time ap- 
 pearing contemptible and disagreeable ; at another,
 
 102 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 amiable, elegant, and delightful. With great in- 
 telligence, she was eccentric, and at times shallow ; 
 with much sensibility and temporary feeling, she 
 was capable of committing the most deliberately 
 cruel and heartless actions where the impulse 
 seized her. No one, in theory, was more alive to 
 the sense of right, and all the distinctions and 
 shades of moral character. No one could deliver 
 more fine sentiments ; yet, in practice, she forgot all 
 the rules which embellished her conversation. She 
 was afflicted, too, with the mania for display. That 
 passion weakened, hid, and, at last, nearly swallowed 
 up all the rest. But for that, her character was 
 not without much to excite esteem. But esteem 
 was too homely a reward for her taste : she must 
 create a sensation ; she must hear the murmur of 
 applause ; behold the gaze of admiration ; and de- 
 tect the glance of envy. She was ambitious, by 
 her personal charms and the allurements of her 
 address, to attract attention from all about her ; par- 
 ticularly from those the " daily beauty" of whose 
 lives rebuked her meretricious accomplishments. 
 From violations of strict propriety she advanced 
 to those of delicacy, though none could more sin- 
 cerely shudder at the approach of vice. Alas ! she 
 had yet to learn that the path from the road of vir- 
 tue does not boldly strike out at once, but that its 
 early deviations are scarcely perceptible : that it 
 conducts the unsuspecting traveller many times 
 aside through the most enchanting prospects, and 
 returns her again safely to the right road, before it 
 stretches away at last to the fatal precipice, from 
 whose brink retreat is vain. She was sufficiently 
 artful, too, to trespass, both in dress and manners, 
 over the boundary line of modest decorum ; but in 
 a degree so imperceptible, as to pass well enough 
 among her indulgent flatterers for commendable 
 grace and innocent unconsciousness. She thus
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 103 
 
 succeeded in securing the admiration of a host of 
 lovers, but she had long since forfeited the respect 
 of Norman Leslie. Her evident hints to him, and 
 her rather open compliments, even at this solemn 
 crisis of his life struck him very unfavourably. 
 
 " The syren," he thought, as she leaned famil- 
 iarly over towards him, with more than the unre- 
 strained carelessness of a favoured sister : " these 
 are the women who lower the sex. Can they be 
 all thus ? The sweet unconsciousness and irre- 
 pressible spirits of Flora, that careless, happy girl 
 can they be affected ?" 
 
 He remembered Julia. Her he knew her he 
 loved ; and her image re-established that confi- 
 dence in woman which such as Miss Remain are 
 too apt to undermine. 
 
 Miss Romain appeared conscious of the unfa- 
 vourable effect which her usual artifices had pro- 
 duced on Norman, and gradually elevated the tone 
 of her manner and conversation. When she 
 pleased, she could be really a charming companion. 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Leslie," said she, " did you ever see 
 such weather ?" 
 
 '! It is extraordinary, indeed. It is almost spring. 
 Scarcely a trace of the snow left." 
 
 " What has softened the heart of the grim old 
 winter so, I cannot conceive," she continued, " un- 
 less the account be received as orthodox, and these 
 atmospheric phenomena imply another of her 
 brawls with her jealous Oberon," arid she recited, 
 with exquisite taste, those celebrated lines 
 
 We see 
 
 The seasons alter ; hoary headed frosts 
 
 Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; 
 
 And on old Hyem's chin, and icy crown, 
 
 An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
 
 Is, as in mockery, set : the spring, the summer, 
 
 The chilling autumn, angry winter, change 
 
 Their wonted liveries ; and the 'mazed world, 
 
 By their increase, now knows not which is which."
 
 104 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 How seductive, really, is this bland and balmy 
 air !" said Leslie, a few moments afterward. 
 " What breezes to welcome in the New-year, which 
 generally strides to his throne amid all the glow of 
 elemental war!" 
 
 "But when January and December thus forget 
 themselves," rejoined Miss Remain," "their sunny 
 smiles are sadly fleeting ; like the civilities of ill- 
 tempered people, soon amply counteracted by 
 boisterous suddenness, or chilling ill-humour." 
 
 " Yet," added Leslie, " even like those civilities, 
 they appear more agreeable and remarkable for 
 their infrequency and contrast." 
 
 " Yes," returned his companion, " how heartily 
 one does love a downright cross person when he 
 smiles !" 
 
 " Warm-hearted summer and lordly generous 
 autumn could scarcely be more smiling and friend- 
 ly," said Leslie ; " but it is an arrant piece of flirta- 
 tion, for which we will doubtless have to pay by- 
 and-by." 
 
 " But did you ever see Broadway so full and 
 fashionable ?" said she, as they returned several 
 bows ; " and the folks are getting affected, and be- 
 gin to put on as many airs and graces as might be- 
 come the beautiful June herself. See, the cloaks 
 and thick shoes are left at home ; the boa (pun ac- 
 cidental, Mr. Leslie) is a bore. Yonder is a gen- 
 tleman actually wiping his forehead ; and here, a 
 fat lady, with a capacious parasol, shielding her- 
 self (forsooth !) from the fervour of the sun. Ah, 
 wait a bit, good people. I should like to see that 
 lady's nose a few days hence." 
 
 The carriage stopped at Mrs. Temple's, and the 
 party were ushered into the presence of the ladies. 
 Norman was surprised to find the count there ; and 
 apparently interested in conversation with Flora ; 
 who looked, at least in Norman's eyes, beautiful be-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 105 
 
 yond herself. A slight colour overspread her 
 cheeks. Miss Remain thought it sprung from the 
 sudden sight of Leslie. Norman presumed it had 
 been called up by the previous conversation of the 
 count. The customary formalities were performed. 
 Norman bowed loftily to his now deadly foe, when 
 the latter stepped forward with an easy air, and, 
 extending his own, shook the hand of Leslie with 
 the careless ease of friendship. Never had he ap- 
 peared more gay and self-possessed. Indeed, all 
 the party were unusually animated ; while Nor- 
 man, with a heart of lead, strove in vain to throw 
 off his gloom. 
 
 It was now that, with the unrestrained license of 
 his imagination, he acknowledged, and painted in 
 the most lively colours, his love for Flora ; nor 
 could he help, once or twice when their eyes met, 
 betraying, with all their wordless language, the 
 affection of his soul. After one of these looks, 
 hastily withdrawn, as if the heart feared the treach- 
 ery of the eyes, Count Clairmont casually uttered 
 a sentiment evidently directed to Flora, and imply- 
 ing, by his air and manner, perhaps more than by 
 his words, that he was on familiar terms with her 
 as a favoured lover. It shot through Norman's ear 
 and heart ; and, forgetful of his restraint, with a 
 cloud of melancholy on his brow, and a thought that 
 a few hours would relieve him from a proud and 
 unrequited love, he looked towards her again, and 
 once more fully and unequivocally caught her 
 glance. If ever woman's eyes had meaning, that 
 glance said, " Dear Norman, believe it not ! I love 
 only you." For one instant their gaze rested and 
 clung together, the delicious sense of vision enter- 
 ing with a heavenly power into each other's hearts 
 and minds an embrace of souls, perfectly re- 
 turned, perfectly understood, and steeped in the 
 confidence, the bliss, the enchantment of mutual
 
 106 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 love. The blood leaped to the cheek and temple of 
 the before desponding youth ; his heart ached, his 
 soul trembled with the shock of delight. " She 
 loves me !" he inwardly exclaimed, with such ex- 
 quisite happiness as he had never before known ; 
 and as much changed as if suddenly relieved from 
 the malign influence of a vile enchanter, and -lifted 
 into the protection of some blessed spirit, he en- 
 tered at once into the conversation with more than 
 his usual ardour. But such ethereal gleams of joy 
 shine on mortals only with a transient brightness. 
 
 "Norman," cried Miss Remain, coming sud- 
 denly round to him, and putting her arm uncon- 
 sciously across his chair, so as to bring it nearly 
 around his shoulder. This was the first time she 
 had ever called him " Norman." He would have 
 withdrawn, but she whispered in his ear 
 
 " I have just heard a most profound secret." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Flora Temple" 
 
 " What of her ?" he asked eagerly, off his guard, 
 and forgetting his distant manner. 
 
 " She is engaged to be married in two months" 
 and again, according to her frequent custom, 
 she placed her lips to his face, so close as nearly to 
 touch his cheek " to Count Clairmont." 
 
 What a vast fabric of bliss dissolved in a mo- 
 ment ! What a mighty world of gayety and splen- 
 dour quenched in the blackest night ! 
 
 " Pray, what is all this whispering about ?" said 
 Flora; but her manner was changed, and ill at 
 ease. " Miss Romain, I have to beg the pleasure of 
 your company to-morrow evening to a little mu- 
 sical party." 
 
 " Oh, delightful, delightful !" answered the gay 
 girl, with a secret triumph at the havoc which she 
 felt instinctively she had made.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 107 
 
 " And Mr. Leslie," said Flora, " will do us the 
 favour " 
 
 " I cannot promise," replied Norman, coolly. 
 " To-morrow evening I shall be necessarily ab- 
 sent." 
 
 " Well, sir, just as you please ; if you can find 
 leisure from more agreeable occupations, we shall 
 bid you welcome. Come, gentlemen," she con- 
 tinued, " you are all to contribute something, as 
 well as the ladies, towards the entertainment. 
 Count, you shall sing those beautiful airs of yours ; 
 Miss Remain, the harp ; and Mr. Leslie, do you 
 not sing ?" 
 
 " Why, you have heard him frequently," said 
 Miss Rornain : " how forgetful !" 
 
 " True, true ; I beg his pardon I had forgotten." 
 
 " Let me tell you, in a duet," resumed Miss Ro- 
 main, " he has few competitors." 
 
 " Are you practised in any with him ?" 
 
 " Oh, a whole host !" cried Miss Remain. 
 " There's 'Dear maid, by every hope of bliss' ' By 
 Love's first pledge, the virgin kiss,' your favourite, 
 you know, Norman " 
 
 They were interrupted by the count, who, seating 
 himself at the piano, ran his fingers over the 
 chords, and sung with great taste a French air 
 directly at Miss Temple. It was expressive of 
 successful love, and called forth a beautiful' from 
 every lip. Flora received it with a gracious ad- 
 miration ; that, while in reality it might spring from 
 wounded pride or love, and that retaliating propen- 
 sity which, perhaps, not only woman, but all the 
 victims of either sex, have experienced under the 
 operation of the capricious little deity, who trans- 
 forms character as he does all other wordly cir- 
 cumstances, still went to the heart of Norman. 
 
 " lam, as the French say, quite desoti about this," 
 said Flora, holding in her hand a small manuscript
 
 108 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 piece of music. " It is the most touching and 
 plaintive air I ever heard ; but is without words. 
 It has the melancholy pathos of a last adieu. I 
 should fancy, now, that some lover some pas- 
 sionate, faithful, chivalric lover full of distant 
 pride and timid delicacy, and doubtful of his mis- 
 tress's favour, had sung it to her in the great hall, 
 with his minstrel harp with ' sandal shoon and 
 scailop shell.' I will bestow my thanks upon any 
 one who will supply appropriate words. Come, 
 count, your pen has been idle too long." 
 
 " Why, Norman," cried Miss Romain, " you know 
 this little air. It is the sweet morceau from Rosini, 
 which you admire so much." 
 
 " But is Mr. Leslie an improvisitore ?" asked 
 Flora. 
 
 " 1 assure you," answered Miss Romain, with an 
 ostentatious blush, " I know it by many evidences ; 
 and I am certain he will not refuse me one more." 
 
 " I fear," cried Norman, " the subject is beyond 
 my comprehension." 
 
 " If I dare ask, after Miss Romain has pleaded 
 unsuccessfully," said Miss Temple, with a sarcasm 
 foreign from her nature, and very unusual in her ; 
 but she perceived instantly she had given pain, and, 
 with another of those looks which, from such eyes, 
 vibrate along the nerves of the lover with tremours 
 of heaven, she added, " Come, Mr. Leslie, it is my 
 first request." 
 
 "Give it me," said Norman ; " I will I will try ; 
 and it shall be my last effort at poetry." 
 
 Impulse, which so often betrays into dilemmas, 
 sometimes conducts to points which sober dumess 
 would never think of reaching. In a few moments 
 Norman availed himself of a pause in the conver- 
 sation, and addressed Flora : 
 
 " Miss Temple, at your request, and on the hint 
 of your imagination, I have thrown together a few
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 109 
 
 iities, superficial and imperfect of course ; but, as 
 the last effort, they may be pardoned any fault. 
 You are to suppose, then, exactly the circumstances 
 suggested by yourself. A fair lady is beloved by 
 a knight, who doubts, perhaps with too much cause, 
 whether his mistress approves, or even knows his 
 attachment. On the eve of a fierce battle, in which 
 he feels a certain presentiment that he must fall, he 
 ventures, what before he had never by word or look 
 ventured, to express a part of his feelings to the 
 lady. She listens coldly applauds without under- 
 standing ; for she knows not that the humble min- 
 strel is a knight who loves her, and who stands on 
 the brink of danger. Thus eluding his purpose, 
 she suffers him to depart from her presence, quite 
 unconscious of their import and their application, 
 till the subsequent day, when she hears that the 
 gentle minstrel was a true knight, and that the lips 
 which breathed music and love to her averted ear 
 now lie cold in the earth." 
 
 " And what then ?" cried Flora, unconsciously 
 betraying her interest in the fiction. 
 
 "I do but jest, Miss Temple," said Norman. 
 *' Such events have often occurred, and will again. 
 How ladies feel when too late aware of faithful 
 love, cherished for them against hope by the un- 
 happy, must depend upon them." 
 
 He raised his glance to her once more, and once 
 more their eyes met. Miss Romain, uneasy at this 
 communion, whether intentional or accidental, ex- 
 claimed 
 
 " I dare pronounce that the false creature smiled 
 just over his grave, as she had done on his living 
 love, and wedded, peradventure, the warrior who 
 slew him." 
 
 " And I," said Flora, " that she had loved him all 
 the while in secret ; and plunged in sudden anguish 
 at his fate, withdrew from the world, and devoted 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 HO NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 herself to Heaven. That is the way," she added, 
 with a smile, " in all those old stories." 
 
 What passing shadow is too light for the ali- 
 ment of love ? As in the visions of the sleeper 
 the most improbable and opposite fragments of 
 adventures sweep on and mingle together, changing 
 and shifting with a facility that renders all probable 
 and real ; now leading the spirit along skyish cliffs 
 and endless oceans, through storms, deserts, battles, 
 and death ; and now melting into gardens, bowers, 
 music, and bliss : so the victim of Cupid, however 
 sober and sensible his mind may be in sanity, now 
 finds the surrounding world breaking apart, and 
 blending together with mighty and incredible revo- 
 lutionsthe vastest impossibilities at once within 
 his grasp, the most trivial common places grown 
 vast and impossible. 
 
 Norman, who one moment before saw the bolt 
 of destruction fall on his hope, now by the tone 
 of a voice, the beam of a pair of tender eyes, 
 by some half-unrepressed meaning in a word or an 
 attitude saw piles of gorgeous hopes, heaven- 
 kissing mountains of joy, peer up before him, as 
 he listened to the simple and sweet conjectures of 
 the lovely girl. Without further preface, he begged 
 her to accompany him ; for though quite without 
 the rapid execution of Rosalie, as often happens 
 in similar persons, she was infinitely her superior 
 in the intuitive power, taste, and feeling of an ac- 
 companiment. All felt curiosity to hear the lines ; 
 and as Flora ran over a sweet and plaintive prel- 
 ude, her countenance, half flung back over her 
 shoulder as she played, was raised towards his 
 face, and in a rich sweet voice he sang the follow- 
 ing lines :
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. Ill 
 
 I. 
 
 " Farewell ! farewell ! some happier breast 
 
 Will beat beneath that lovely cheek ; 
 Some worthier hand to thine be press'd, 
 
 Requited love to speak. 
 Oh, never more within thy smile, 
 
 Who thrills to feel it now shall dwell ; 
 But, mouldering in his grave the while, 
 Forget this sad farewell ! 
 
 II. 
 
 " The die is cast the fate is sealed 
 
 The dark, the fatal doom is spoken ! 
 Oh ! never be my heart revealed, 
 
 Until that heart be broken. 
 How much I loved, how low I knelt, 
 
 No ear shall hear no tongue shall tell : 
 Such love as this, oh ! who hath felt, 
 Or such a sad farewell ! 
 
 III. 
 
 ; Too true they prove thou lov'st me not 
 Those sunny eyes, that tranquil brow ; 
 Too soon will be my name forgot 
 
 Alas ! forgotten now. 
 And thou wilt own no fond regret, 
 
 No bursting pang thy breast will swell : 
 But, when to-morrow's sun is set, 
 Remember this farewell !" 
 
 There was something in Norman's manner and 
 appearance at all times high and commanding ; 
 but, at the moment of his pronouncing the last line, 
 his tall form and noble features were so strongly 
 expressive of melancholy, yet lofty emotion, so 
 regardless of all disguise and all propriety, that 
 every one present, except the gentle girl herself, 
 felt instinctively that he loved her devotedly. 
 Even she, as he thanked her for the sweetness with 
 which she had accompanied him, saw in his eyes 
 a humid brightness, and betrayed embarrassment 
 and softness unusual to her. The colour on her 
 cheek, higher and warmer than he had ever seen
 
 112 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 it before, told a tale that made each glance of 
 Norman's a sweet and giddy rapture. Miss Ro- 
 main again hastened to interrupt an interview 
 which, although enjoyed in the presence of so 
 many, was thus, by the natural freemasonry of 
 love, invested with half the dear charm and con- 
 fidence of a tete-a-tete. The count, in turn, sat 
 down at the piano, with a jest and a compliment to 
 Rosalie, and struck the keys to a merry and bril- 
 liant French air, as if to break the train into which 
 the thoughts and feelings of all seemed to have 
 fallen. 
 
 Old Mr. Romain had kept Mrs. Temple busily 
 conversing in a distant corner of the adjoining 
 room. As they entered, Norman remembered the 
 necessity of his departure, took his leave, and 
 with a swelling heart regarded Flora, into whose 
 sweet blue eyes he might never look again. 
 
 But Fortune, who in some moods refuses what 
 mortals deem their simple rights, and in others 
 grants far beyond their expectations, now bestowed 
 upon the youth the precise blessing which, of all 
 others, at this moment, he most earnestly desired. 
 A servant entered and informed Miss Temple that 
 her father wished to speak with her in the library. 
 Scarcely believing his own eyes, and while the rest 
 were absorbed in conversation together, Leslie saw 
 Flora rise, disentangle herself from the group, and 
 follow him into the hall. Some accident closed 
 the door behind her. They stood together-^- 
 dlone.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 113 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A Quarrel with an Object of Love at the Moment of Recon- 
 ciliation with one of Hate ; and wherein is shown, for the 
 forty-seven thousandth Time, what a Foot-ball Man is to 
 Fortune. 
 
 " She's fair and fause that causes my smart ; 
 
 I lo'ed her meikle and lang : 
 She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart, 
 
 And I may e'en gae hang. 
 
 A coof cam in wi' rowth o' gear, 
 
 And I hae tint my dearest dear ; 
 
 But woman is but warld's gear, 
 
 Sae let the bonnie lass gang." 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 THE romantic heart of Norman Leslie could but 
 inadequately bid Flora an adieu that might be 
 eternal before a crowd of gazing spectators. He 
 had, therefore, in the fulness of his triumph and his 
 anguish, veiled all agitation ; and bowed at a dis- 
 tance, and with scarcely a look. 
 
 " She will remember me," he thought ; " she 
 will understand me to-morrow." 
 
 When he found himself alone, for the first time 
 in his life, with the idol of his secret thoughts and 
 dreams who swayed his feelings as the moon 
 swells the tides, and leaves them again to their 
 retiring ebbs now that he had half-expressed his 
 love, and half- believed the expression returned, he 
 knew not what to say. Had he known, it is doubt- 
 ful whether he could have said it, his heart beat so 
 violently in his bosom. Women have naturally 
 
 K2
 
 114 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 more presence of mind than men in such matters : 
 those little emergencies which silently checker 
 the existence of the quiet student in peaceful 
 modern times to him all as striking and memor- 
 able as breaking a lance or storming a town to 
 a knight of other days. Flora broke the silence ; 
 but, even through her graceful and becoming self- 
 possession, a certain agitation and embarrassment 
 exhibited themselves, enchanting to the young 
 lover beyond expression. 
 
 " I have to thank you, Mr. Leslie, for the song." 
 
 He blushed. He could not well speak. Love 
 is a great taker away of the voice. He found, 
 however, sufficient self-possession to reach forth 
 his hand, and gently to enclose in it that of Flora. 
 She cast down her eyes. Norman's very heart 
 trembled ; but at this moment he remembered 
 Morton, and contented himself with pressing the 
 hand he held, as if he had taken it in the ordinary 
 kindness of a farewell. He could not, however, 
 wholly command his manner, as he said, 
 
 " Dear Miss Temple, it may be very long before 
 I see you again." 
 
 " Are you leaving town, Mr. Leslie ?" 
 
 "No, not immediately," he replied, and with 
 less embarrassment; "but a painful duty may 
 exclude me, perhaps, from the pleasures of so- 
 ciety." 
 
 " Mr. Leslie !" her eyes rested full on him. 
 
 " And from yours" he added. 
 
 " And that beautiful song," she said, as if con- 
 scious that propriety would permit her to press 
 him no further, " is it a present for me ?" 
 
 " If you deem it worthy " 
 
 " I shall value it," she answered, " as your 
 gift." 
 
 For all his manhood, a moisture gathered in his 
 eye. She looked up again. He forgot every
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 115 
 
 thing but that look. He once more seized her 
 hand. She turned away her face. " Dear, dear 
 Flora ! how I love you !" had nearly escaped his 
 lips, when the front-door suddenly opened, and 
 Morton burst furiously in. Flora vanished in an 
 instant. 
 
 " Well, I do declare," exclaimed Morton, coming 
 suddenly to a stop at the demure group which 
 he had broken up in the hall "who was that? 
 Oh ho! Master Gravity mums the word spoiled 
 sport, eh ? Well, I never my dear, dear Norman 
 if I had only known ; if I had only suspected '* 
 
 " Nonsense," cried Norman, blushing ; for he 
 was one of those men who inherit that woman's 
 virtue. 
 
 " That's it, my fine fellow," cried Morton, his 
 finger on his nose " I am up to all that sort of 
 thing. What, three ! One too many, hey ? Well, 
 I declare" 
 
 "I tell you " cried Norman, quickly and sternly; 
 for he loved not jesting on such points. 
 
 " Oh," interrupted Morton, " you need not tell 
 me. There's no necessity for it at all. Fy ! you 
 cunning dog you but, monDieu! I forget. Is 
 not Miss Temple here ?" and in he went with little 
 ceremony. 
 
 Norman waited a moment anxiously in hope 
 that Flora might return. He was at once the 
 happiest and most miserable of human beings. He 
 was on the eve of the wildest bliss he ever knew; 
 and he was also rushing madly into the grave. He 
 loved Flora Temple now more devotedly than 
 ever. He owned it. He felt it. That which had 
 before dwelt in his heart a half-buried spark, was 
 now fanned into a blaze. What singular fatality 
 connected him with the silly and good-humoured 
 Morton, that by his agency he should be frustrated 
 in the happiest moment of his existence, and his
 
 116 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 existence itself be brought to a fearful termination. 
 Now, too, the conviction rushed on his soul, that 
 Flora Temple loved him. He believed and hailed 
 it in the face of reason, of probability, and of the 
 express authority of Miss Remain. But what 
 are reason, probability, or authority to a lover, 
 against the plain and sweet eloquence of the eyes, 
 which should know best of all ? What was he 
 now to do ? Wait ? see Flora once more, reveal 
 his love frankly, and bid her farewell for ever ? or 
 should he thus in doubt whether his passion was 
 requited fly at once from her dear and dangerous 
 presence, and, yielding his throat to the slaughter 
 of a fierce, bloody, and certain hand, die just at the 
 gates of paradise ? " Oh ! were I escaped from 
 this fatal duel," he thought, " I would ask no more 
 of fortune. May Providence interfere now, and 
 rescue me from this awful dilemma, and my cup 
 of bliss will be full to overflowing. Never again 
 will I complain of destiny !" 
 
 As he lingered one moment, at a loss what to 
 do, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a 
 female figure. 
 
 " Flora ?" he said. 
 
 It was not Flora. The tall form of Mrs. Tem- 
 ple rose before him with a step more than usually 
 stately, and an expression in her face severe an'd 
 repelling. 
 
 " Bless me," she said, " Mr. Leslie !" 
 
 If the youth had blushed before, he now crim- 
 soned with tenfold embarrassment. 
 
 " Well met, Mr. Leslie," resumed Mrs. Temple, 
 in a tone of sarcasm ; " I have been about to re- 
 quest the honour of a personal interview, and now 
 fate favours me beyond my deserts, though you, 
 perhaps, will not share in the pleasure of my sur- 
 prise." 
 
 "Madam," replied Norman, bowing, "why
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 117 
 
 should I feel other than pleasure at the sight of 
 Mrs. Temple?" 
 
 " Because, by the name on your lips, I presume 
 your thoughts were upon a different and more 
 welcome person. I understand you ; but I regret 
 the painful necessity of putting you right. A 
 dangerous disorder, Mr. Leslie, must be cured, 
 although, in the operation, the patient shrink, and 
 the surgeon holds the knife with reluctance. You 
 are not at a loss for my meaning." 
 
 " Indeed, madam, but I am most profoundly," 
 replied Norman ; feeling, however, that her proud 
 and haughty character was bearing her beyond 
 the pale of delicacy and good-breeding. 
 
 " In plain terms, then, Mr. Leslie, Mr. Temple 
 has requested me to express our high appreciation 
 of your character ; but to say, that we have ob- 
 served with regret your marked attentions to 
 Flora. We appeal to your generosity, Mr. 
 Leslie" (Leslie bowed) ; " we confide in your hon- 
 our. Flora's hand is already pledged to another. 
 To save yourself future pain, and her unnecessary 
 embarrassment, 1 seize the earliest opportunity to 
 explain this to you frankly. Flora will, I am cer- 
 tain, always be most happy to see Mr. Leslie as a 
 friend. Good-morning, sir." 
 
 Again Norman bowed low; nor lifted his face 
 till he was alone. To him this appeared an in- 
 sult. The supercilious condescension, the haughty 
 dismissal of Mrs. Temple, showed her impetuous 
 character in its least favourable light. Flora was; 
 then, in truth, the affianced bride of another. Her 
 softness towards him was either imaginary, or as- 
 sumed out of pity or sport. Stung by the thought, 
 he was in the act of flying for ever from the in- 
 auspicious mansion, when a slight shriek arrested 
 his step. Was it fancy ? or was it the voice of 
 Flora? He re-entered the apartment, alarmed,
 
 118 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 and surprised by the confusion which prevailed. 
 The ladies were standing, and apparently agitated 
 with the most sudden and lively apprehension. 
 The count appeared erect, proudly listening to 
 entreaties directed to him with the utmost fervour 
 by all present ; and, as if a sight of death or pesti- 
 lence had blasted his eyes, Norman beheld Flora, 
 pale and frightened, foremost in her earnest solici- 
 tations, with her hand on the count's arm, in the 
 ardour of her exclamations. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Leslie !" cried Mrs. Temple, " could 
 we haVe expected this from you !" 
 
 "A pretty fright, indeed," said Miss Remain. 
 " Oh, Norman, dear Norman ! abandon this horrid 
 affair." 
 
 " For me, count, for me," cried Flora, " spare 
 his blood !" 
 
 " I perceive," said Norman, who always rose 
 in energy and ease in proportion to the emer- 
 gency, and whose present manner was cold and 
 freezing "I perceive, by some mischance, that 
 which should have been concealed is betrayed ; 
 but let me entreat Miss Temple, when she solicits 
 my lord count there, to place her request on any 
 other ground than my safety." 
 
 A reproachful and surprised look from Flora, 
 shot at his heart, broke harmless as an arrow 
 against a steel corslet. He felt his soul fully 
 armed against her fascinations. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Leslie !" said Mrs. Temple, " for our 
 sake forbear from this fatal, this dreadful meet- 
 ing !" 
 
 " You must allow me to assure you," rejoined 
 Norman, " that no other power rests in my hand 
 than that of obstinate acquiescence in the Count 
 Clairmont's invitation. In this affair he has been 
 quite the aggressor, and I can request nothing at 
 his hands."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 119 
 
 " Mr. Leslie," said Flora, " you will surely listen 
 to our request." 
 
 " Much as it would flatter me to have an oppor- 
 tunity of obliging Miss Temple, I have neither the 
 power nor the wish to do so here." 
 
 " But for me, dear Norman," cried Miss Ro- 
 main, sobbing aloud, and approaching him with a 
 familiarity which might be excused by the general 
 agitation. 
 
 " For you, Miss Remain," said he, still burning 
 with resentment against Flora, "I wish to do 
 much ; but you address yourself to one who has 
 no more power than yourself over the circum- 
 stances." 
 
 Mr. Remain, who had stood a silent spectator 
 of this scene, at length said, in his blunt way, 
 
 "Come, come, young gentlemen this matter 
 must be settled, or we shall be compelled to seek 
 aid from the authorities." 
 
 " Mr. Leslie," said the count, " you have done 
 me wrong. You think me unforgiving ; I am not 
 so. As a proof partly at the command of these 
 ladies, whom I am bound to obey, and partly be- 
 cause I am convinced that I might myself last 
 night have furnished more cause of offence than I 
 intended I wave all other considerations, and 
 withdraw my invitation. My warmth last even- 
 ing was premature. I apologize for the hasty ex- 
 pression. I shall receive your acknowledgments 
 in return as an ample seal of reconciliation. Come, 
 Leslie, let us think of this idle matter no more." 
 
 He extended his hand with ease and frankness. 
 Leslie stepped forward, and exchanged the prof- 
 fered salutation. " I should hold myself," he said, 
 " greatly your inferior, Count Clairmont, both in 
 good sense and candour, if I did not cheerfully im- 
 prove such an opportunity to avoid bloodshed." 
 " You will find," said the count, in a more confi-
 
 120 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 dential voice, " that I had already thought better 
 of it, and had communicated such instructions to 
 my friend Captain Forbes as would probably have 
 effected this same event, and prevented a deed so 
 fatal," in a still lower tone, " as you, Mr. Leslie, 
 intended to perpetrate." 
 
 The magnanimity of the count was applauded 
 in the liveliest terms. Flora cast on him a look, 
 in the opinion of Norman, full of speechless tender- 
 ness ; and the young nobleman appeared to the 
 most graceful advantage even in the eyes of 
 Leslie himself. 
 
 " He is too deep for me," he thought ; " or I 
 have wronged him most shamefully." 
 
 He remained a few minutes a moody spectator 
 of the close of a scene in which he had not borne 
 the most becoming part. Withdrawing a last 
 gaze from Flora's beautiful face, he accidentally 
 detected the count in a distant part of the room 
 watching him, as he thought, unobserved. He 
 was struck with a glance of malignant meaning 
 which, like the rattle of the dreadful snake, bade 
 him beware. 
 
 At length, after an awkward adieu to the ladies, 
 whose salutations in return, particularly Flora's, 
 he thought cold and stiff, with a mountain-load 
 from his mind, yet a coal of fire at his heart, he 
 withdrew, and sought his own home. 
 
 " Strange world 1" he thought : " brief and wild 
 vicissitudes ! What a sport what an idle chance 
 what a reckless, valueless, wanton confusion is 
 the destiny of mortals ! Yesterday I was well, 
 safe, tranquil, and happy. This morning I was 
 suddenly transformed into a beast, bound and 
 dragged" to the altar for sacrifice. A few moments 
 ago 1 prayed to be released and set free, as the 
 highest boon Heaven could bestow. Lo ! I am 
 loose ; the chain is broken ; the knife sheathed ;
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 121 
 
 the fire extinguished; and yet, while the bright 
 blade glittered before my eyes, one thought made 
 me happier in danger than I am now in freedom. 
 That look of the count's too will he play me 
 false? a malignant devil lurks in his glances. 
 As for Flora," a tear stood on his eyelash, he 
 dashed it away " pshaw ! boy that I am ! let 
 me tear her sweet image for ever from my heart." 
 
 At eleven Kreutzner entered by appointment. 
 
 " There are to be two more breathing folks in 
 the world, Leslie, than you intended. The noble 
 count and the noble captain put their noses to- 
 gether at your close terms, and request another 
 interview." 
 
 " It will be useless," said Norman, and related 
 the occurrence of the morning. 
 
 " Now, is that magnanimity," said Kreutzner, 
 when he had done speaking, " or love for the fair 
 girl, or sheer cowardice ?" 
 
 "Alas for poor human nature !" answered Leslie. 
 " The world may well be topsy-turvy, when, even 
 by such observers as you, Kreutzner, the purest 
 virtues and the meanest vices cannot be distin- 
 guished from each other : but, come, a truce to 
 moralizing. I propose we shall sup together." 
 
 "And the prospect," said Kreutzner, "of a com- 
 fortable breakfast in the morning instead of a bullet 
 will not lessen your appetite, I assure you." 
 
 The two friends linked arms, and calling for 
 Morton, who, with all his folly, had the pleasing 
 faculty of rendering himself more agreeable Jn 
 most companies than he had managed to do in 
 that of Miss Temple, they adjourned to one of the 
 numerous saloons which in New-York tolerably 
 supply the place of the Parisian cafe. 
 
 " What! made up," said Morton, "at Temple's ! 
 fal, dal, diddle, diddle, val, dal, dal. Now, that's 
 all my doings. 1 let out the whole affair, though I 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 122 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 durst not stay to see the consequences. Faith, I 
 felt like a fellow who lights a train of gunpowder, 
 and runs, without stopping to make observations 
 upon the explosion." 
 
 " Morton !" said Norman, " you did not dare to 
 commit such a piece of stupidity ?" 
 
 " Yes, but I did, though. 1 had no notion of see- 
 ing a fellow like you, Leslie, shot down like a wild 
 pigeon in my quarrel." 
 
 " Then you are, Morton, I must say, a greater 
 fool than I took you for 1" 
 
 " Well, now, Leslie now my dear fellow - 
 really that's a poor return for saving you from a 
 dead shot a fellow who can put a bullet, you 
 know, out of the muzzle of one pistol into that of 
 another ! You would have been snuffed out ! you 
 know you would ! What chance would such a 
 strapping surface as yours present against a power 
 of aim that always touches a silver sixpence? 
 Remember the Veronese lady ! And now this 
 is my thanks ! Well, I declare I never "
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A disagreeable way of spending the Evening, and a change 
 from dad to worse. 
 
 ' That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, 
 If with his tongue he cannot win a woman." 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 " THA.T Norman Leslie is a strange being," said 
 Mrs. Temple, one evening as he left their circle, 
 after a visit of a half hour, during which he had 
 appeared peculiarly reserved. 
 
 "He is dying of love for Miss Romain," said 
 the count ; " he is very eccentric, also, and exceed- 
 ingly flippant." 
 
 " Flippant !" exclaimed Flora, in unfeigned sur- 
 prise, " Mr. Leslie flippant !" 
 
 " I fear he is much worse, my love," said Mrs. 
 Temple; " he is deceitful and treacherous." 
 
 " Deceitful and treacherous !" echoed Flora 
 again ; "Mr. Leslie /" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, Mr. Leslie," rejoined Mrs. Tem- 
 ple; "we cannot judge of men's characters by 
 seeing them in the drawing-room. Mr. Leslie in 
 company is very demure; but I am credibly in- 
 formed among men he is altogether a different per- 
 son ; and it is among men that a man's character is 
 most correctly estimated. What was it, count, 
 that story about him ?" 
 
 " No," said the count, " my dear madam, excuse 
 me. Scandal is my abhorrence, and I am not
 
 124 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 prepared to say that is any thing but scandal; 
 indeed, I scarcely believe it at all. Besides, after 
 what took place between Mr. Leslie and myself 
 some weeks since, my motive for repeating it might 
 be misconstrued." 
 
 Flora looked up, but said nothing. 
 
 " Respecting Mr. Leslie's integrity," continued 
 Clairmont, with marked emphasis, "I shall not 
 therefore speak ; but of his flippancy I can easily 
 cite an example. He is in the habit of boasting 
 that he is obliged to decline the affections, nay, 
 advances is his word, of more than one among the 
 fairest of the New-York ladies." 
 
 "The wretch ! w cried Mrs. Temple. "Flora, 
 my love, you will certainly break that folder." 
 
 " Do you know, Miss Temple, that I have heard 
 your name on his lips so familiarly, that one would 
 deem him a much more intimate friend than I per- 
 ceive he is, by his very different manner to you 
 when in your presence." 
 
 Flora turned a little pale ; it was barely percep- 
 tible, but Clairmont's keen eye detected it. 
 
 " I should regret," said she, " to hear any thing 
 serious against Mr. Leslie's reputation. His sister 
 Julia and his father are almost faultless, and they 
 are perfectly bound up in him. I think 1 never 
 knew a family in the domestic circle so really and 
 unostentatiously affectionate and happy." 
 
 " He will certainly marry Miss Remain ; and I 
 think she will tame him," said Mrs. Temple, with 
 a cool smile. 
 
 " It is said that she has already more than once 
 refused him," rejoined Clairmont. 
 
 " How singular !" exclaimed Flora-, but blushed 
 as she finished the sentence. 
 
 "And pray why, my love?" said Mrs. Temple, 
 smiling again ; " because this Mr. Leslie is so in- 
 teresting?"
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 125 
 
 No." 
 
 " Because he is so gay and lively ?" interrupted 
 the count, with a sneer. 
 
 " Miss Remain makes no secret," said Flora, " of 
 her intention to marry him, and yet I have heard 
 her boast openly of having rejected him !" 
 
 " And do you think," said the count, with some- 
 thing of marked meaning in his manner, " that a 
 lover should never strive against the first harsh 
 sentence ?" 
 
 " I do," said Flora, gravely ; and, changing the 
 conversation, she continued "Mamma, did you 
 hear of the accident which " 
 
 But mamma had disappeared, and Flora found 
 herself alone with the count. She half-started, as 
 if with an impulse to fly; but recollecting herself, 
 remained with a most graceful air of forced com- 
 posure, not less becoming from the fact, that 
 through it any one might have detected no ordi- 
 nary degree of agitation. She dropped her eyes 
 upon the volume, whose damp leaves she had been 
 carefully separating with a pearl folder. A glow 
 of hope and triumph gleamed over the face of her 
 companion as he approached ; and, with the most 
 guarded gentleness and delicacy, laying his fingers 
 upon the book, slowly lowered it from her gaze. 
 
 "Flora!" 
 
 There was a moment's silence. 
 
 " Dear Flora !" He took her hand. She at- 
 tempted to withdraw it; but, alas for his suit, 
 neither turned away, nor blushed, nor trembled. 
 Her face was slightly pale ; but on her sunny 
 brow there was a shadow ; and the smile which 
 usually played about her beautiful mouth was gone 
 utterly. 
 
 " You forget, Count Clairmont," she said, " I 
 have already told you that this is language I will 
 not hear." 
 
 L 2
 
 126 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 My beloved Flora !" he cried, apparently much 
 affected, and dropping on his knee, " once more 
 once more let me " 
 
 She rose. Never had she seemed so tall. 
 " You misjudge me, Count Clairmont," she said> 
 " most strangely. I am no silly girl, withdrawing 
 to be wooed, and speaking to be contradicted. 
 Your language is displeasing and painful. Having 
 already expressed my sentiments decidedly, I 
 trusted the subject was at rest. I beg you to rise. 
 I will ring for my mother." 
 
 There was a firmness in her voice and manner 
 that would have rung the death-knell to hope in 
 any bosom but that of Count Clairmont. 
 
 " No, no, angelic girl," and he retained her hand, 
 while a flush of emotion crossed his handsome face, 
 " you must not, you shall not stir, till I have again 
 poured into your ear all that I feel and suffer. 
 Flora, I love you !" 
 
 " Count Clairmont" 
 
 " I have loved you always. From the first, 
 your mother knew and approved my addresses. 
 I threw myself at your feet. You, enchanting 
 girl, turned coldly, cruelly away. Never shall I 
 forget the anguish, the agony of that moment. I 
 would have fled the country, nay, I would have 
 buried myself for ever from the world, but your 
 generous mother soothed my distress,, checked my 
 despair, and gradually re-awakened my hope. It 
 is now by her permission, and that of your honour- 
 able father, that I enjoy this interview, which I have 
 been so anxious to procure." 
 
 " And / to avoid," said Flora. 
 
 " Miss Temple," added the count, rising, and 
 still holding her hand, " am I so unhappy as to 
 have offended you ?" 
 
 v Detention by physical force, sir," said Flora,,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 127 
 
 coldly, "is the least plausible method either to 
 awaken affection or to preserve esteem." 
 
 He released her hand. She walked to the bell,, 
 and was about to ring. 
 
 " Flora," he said, earnestly, " as a friend, I en- 
 treat you to hear me." 
 
 She paused, and he continued : 
 
 "Miss Temple, if I am so unfortunate as to 
 have yet made no progress in your esteem, I can- 
 not abandon the hope of being more favoured 
 hereafter. So deeply am I interested in the suc- 
 cess of this suit, that my happiness, my very rea- 
 son, is utterly at stake. Your parents have as- 
 sured me that your affections are disengaged ; let 
 me add, that their strongest wishes are enlisted in 
 my behalf. My present almost unlimited fortune, 
 my immense expectations in Europe, the advan- 
 tages which my title afford me of showing you the 
 most exclusive circles of foreign society, in their 
 most favourable aspect " 
 
 He paused before a look so calmly cold as to 
 embarrass even him. 
 
 "Count Clairmont," she said, "has but poorly 
 improved his intercourse with our sex, if he sus- 
 pects a woman's heart to be influenced by such 
 considerations. I am not ambitious either of 
 wealth or title. Upon this subject I have already 
 spoken decisively : let me repeat my sentiments 
 now. They are confirmed by reflection. I have 
 feared this interview, and done every thing in my 
 power to prevent it. Your first suggestions of 
 partiality I was contented simply to decline. I 
 meet your present solicitations with a firmness not 
 unmingled with both surprise and displeasure. 
 Permit me, sir, to add, that any future renewal 
 will be received either as ridicule or insult." 
 " Must I then despair," said the count,, deeply
 
 128 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 mortified, "of permission to prosecute my ad- 
 dresses with the aid of time ?" 
 
 " My sentiments," rejoined Flora, " nothing on 
 earth can alter. I have never felt, I never can feel 
 for you the slightest love. I would not now per- 
 mit this painful interview to be so prolonged, but 
 in order to satisfy you that a repetition must be 
 utterly impossible." 
 
 " One more prayer," said he, again kneeling, in 
 a voice husky with emotion ; " I cannot, I will not 
 abandon all hope, till I know whether I yield only 
 to your abstract preference for a single life, or to 
 the happier star of some favoured rival." 
 
 " Count Clairmont 1" said Flora, a flush of indig- 
 nation rising to her cheek. 
 
 " Nay, cold and cruel girl " 
 
 Before he had finished the sentence, he was 
 alone. 
 
 Stung with disappointment and rage, he with- 
 drew and left the house. He had not walked 
 many minutes when he felt a hand upon his shoul- 
 der, and a woman in a thick veil stood before him. 
 Bewildered and off his guard, his first thought was 
 of Flora ; but the veil slowly drawn aside revealed 
 the large black eyes of the young female who has 
 slightly and somewhat mysteriously appeared on 
 the stage of our drama in the second chapter. She 
 now stood confronting him most haughtily. For 
 a moment they regarded each other in silence, the 
 light of a lamp falling strongly on their features. 
 _ " Clairmont," at length cried the intruder, " your 
 time has expired. I have yielded to your request. 
 I will yield no longer." 
 
 " Louise I" he answered ; " not here not here'!" 
 
 " Yes, here !" echoed she, vehemently ; " here or 
 anywhere, wherever you may be. 1 claim my 
 promise. Your time has expired." 
 
 " By the holy mother ! girl, but damnation !"
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 129 
 
 The last exclamation was called forth by the 
 appearance of Morton, who, accidentally passing 
 at the time, distinctly recognised both individuals, 
 and paused in surprise to gaze on their faces. 
 Louise drew down her veil. Clairmont stepped 
 up sternly, and addressed to him some casual but 
 angry remark. The young gentleman replied 
 awkwardly, bowing and shuffling back, and de- 
 claring that he was not aware of being an in- 
 truder. 
 
 " See, girl," said Clairmont, " see what you have 
 done ! Would you betray, would you ruin me ?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " if it brought your head to 
 the block your neck to the gibbet your flesh to 
 the worms ! I would betray I would ruin you 
 unless " 
 
 A livid paleness overspread his features, which 
 were transformed by the convulsions of hideous 
 passion. He spoke in an under voice and close to 
 her ear, 
 
 " Silence, woman if you would live silence !" 
 
 " Live !" echoed she, scornfully ; " hark in your 
 ear." She whispered. He started, and stamped 
 his foot. 
 
 " No," he replied, " it is impossible yet. But 
 this is no place. Meet me at the hotel again. But 
 stay ; not in this dress." 
 
 " I understand you," said the female ; " I will. 
 But" 
 
 She bent her keen bright eyes full on his, with a 
 power which almost made him quail. 
 
 "If you deceive " 
 
 " No, no, no, no," returned he, " I will not I 
 will not. To-morrow to-morrow !" 
 
 The voice of a passing pedestrian, chanting a 
 barcarole of the reigning opera, announced some 
 new intruder. The speakers broke off, and sepa- 
 rated abruptly.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A Chapter mostly of digressions, which the Reader is en- 
 treated to excuse, as the Author could not help it. Yet 
 should it not be altogether skipped. 
 
 1 Quench, Corydon, thy long unanswered fire ! 
 Mind what the common wants of life require : 
 On willow twigs employ thy weaving care ; 
 And find an easier love, though not so fair." 
 
 DRYDEN'S Virgil. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL Spring ! We do love to watch thy 
 coming. Only the other day we were dilating 
 upon the cold ; now, away with the appendages of 
 the frowning old Winter ! Our habits are gradually 
 undergoing a change. The fire sinks in the grate, 
 and burns dimly and unnoticed ; the heavy cloak 
 hangs unregarded in the hall ; people come in 
 from the open air with noses of a natural colour; 
 the earth is brightening everywhere; and our very 
 soul melts on discovering a dash of tender new 
 grass on the sunny side of some old wall. A 
 hundred a thousand sunny reminiscences rise up 
 warmly in our tired, chilled heart; we enjoy all a 
 school- boy's simple delight at thy first footstep. 
 Dear Spring ! thou art a companion endeared to 
 us by innumerable tender and unworldly recollec- 
 tions. 
 
 The season now, over the country, began to 
 exhibit itself in a thousand agreeable forms. A 
 shade of lovely verdure enlivened the fields ; the 
 buds were breaking beautifully out from the juicy
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 131 
 
 branches : in the gardens, the simple snowdrop, 
 the crocus, sprinkling the brown earth with many 
 colours, the yellow daffodil, the fragrant meze- 
 reon, with its flower before the leaf, already ap- 
 peared graceful harbingers of the most welcome 
 of seasons ; and soon to be followed by the modest 
 violet, the lowly heart's ease, the golden Adonis, 
 the crimson pa3ony, hyacinths, tulips, and all the 
 beautiful and variegated children of nature. 
 
 Jn the barnyard now the cattle rested them- 
 selves with ardent gratification. The contented 
 hen dug a hole in the gravel, and laid, in enviable 
 and luxurious idleness, in the general sunshine; 
 and the cock swaggered and strutted about in 
 his fine regimentals with superadded dignity, his 
 great soul shining through every look and action, 
 lifting his feet as if the very earth were not good 
 enough for him to tread on, and ever and anon 
 slapping his martial sides triumphantly with his 
 wings, and challenging all the world with high- 
 sounding exclamation. Ah, happy fellow ! he is 
 your only philosopher. He enjoys life truly. He 
 has no books to balance; no notes to pay; no 
 duns to meet; no bills in chancery to draw; no 
 romances to write ; no proofs to read : nothing 
 but to rove about all day, withersoever he pleaseth ; 
 free from trouble, debts, labour, fear, dyspepsia, 
 laws, bonds, house-rent, and all the fiends engen- 
 dered to haunt the citizen of a civilized community. 
 Happy fellow ! even now we hear thy voice the 
 outbreakings of a great, independent, happy heart. 
 Peace be with thee ! gay sultan, amid thy seraglio 
 of dames. Elegant courtier ! Proud herald of the 
 morn ! 
 
 In the city, the evidences of the season were 
 numerous, although of a different description. 
 The shopkeepers flung open their doors, and dis- 
 played their goods in the air. The windows of
 
 132 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 the wealthy were also unclosed, and the breathing 
 and blossoming plants placed in the sun. Dirty- 
 faced chubby children, ragged, barefoot, and hat- 
 less; came forth in troops by the cellar-doors, and 
 in all the sunshiny places : and the poor generally 
 wore cheerful countenances; for they were already 
 enjoying existence more with less expense. But 
 of ail the places where these revolutionary pro- 
 ceedings in the weather were perceptible, the west 
 side of Broadway, perhaps, exhibited the most 
 changes in the dresses of the promenaders, mascu- 
 line and feminine, black and white. It seemed that 
 no experience could enlighten certain classes upon 
 the fickleness of Spring ; and every accidental 
 gleam of warm weather was sure to elicit divers 
 pieces of apparel, more peculiarly appropriate to 
 the heat of summer. The cumbersome cloak was 
 left behind. Then the thin shoe appeared in place 
 of the boot. In a little while a parasol went gayly 
 along through the sunshine ; and, by-and-by, straw 
 hats and white pantaloons prematurely displayed 
 themselves upon odd-looking persons. We are 
 apt to regard with some curiosity, if not suspicion, 
 your fellow who puts on thin pantaloons so early 
 in the season, hoping thereby to force on the sum- 
 mer. He is like the first swallow. His reasoning 
 powers cannot be much cultivated ; or else he is 
 only striving after notoriety ; or, perhaps, he may 
 have a better reason, viz. his thin pantaloons may 
 be thicker than his thick ones ! Whatever may be 
 the origin of so extraordinary a proceeding, we 
 humbly warn our readers against being led too 
 easily away by the alluring promises, and tender 
 but deceitful solicitations of Spring. Let not 
 the expanding buds, the new grass, the peeping 
 flowerets ; the broad, still, universal sunshine ; the 
 fresh, fragrant, and bland zephyr, delude you into 
 any of these fashionable eccentricities in apparel.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 133 
 
 Believe not the appearance of the earth ; trust not 
 Ihe seducing smiles of heaven. The whole season 
 resembles a lively coquette, full of smiles, airs, and 
 affections ; and much more ready to make prom- 
 ises than to keep them. We have now in our 
 memory an unhappy wretch, whom we once met 
 in the course of an afternoon peregrination. He 
 was hastening homeward, shivering in a pair of 
 white trousers, pumps, and thin silk stockings ; 
 his nose turned blue ; and his coat buttoned, des- 
 perately, every button, to the very throat. Do not, 
 we entreat, be too rash in taking down stoves, and 
 abandoning thick stockings. Remember the words 
 of the friar in Romeo and Juliet " Wisely and 
 slow; they stumble that run fast." 
 
 Yes, the spring was here ; and the gay world of 
 fashion was as busy as the blossoms on the trees, 
 or the birds in the groves.. Flora Temple con- 
 tinued to bloom with the modest sweetness of a 
 wild rose. Her striking beauty, which each day 
 seemed to unfold some lovelier charm ; her ac- 
 complished education ; her clear, bright mind, and 
 gentle nature to say nothing of her immense for- 
 tune, and yet more immense expectations ren- 
 dered her an object of universal attraction, and 
 enchained the particular attentions of a host of 
 gentlemen, who, from various considerations, wrote 
 themselves her admirers. The world, always 
 peculiarly shrewd upon these matters, exhausted 
 its curiosity and its conjectures upon the subject 
 of her union ; and gave her away, unceremoni- 
 ously, to many a claimant, who, however charmed 
 with the honour, knew too well at heart that it 
 could be enjoyed but in imagination. Poor Mor- 
 ton, after his first storm of disappointment and 
 wounded vanity, had swallowed his regrets with 
 a resignation which springs sometimes from phi- 
 losophy, and sometimes from folly; and, if rumour
 
 134 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 spoke truth (which, by-the-way, that slandered 
 divinity often does), he had no reason to be 
 ashamed of the names associated with his own 
 on the long list of rejected suitors. Lieutenant 
 Halford of the navy, after beating about for some 
 time against baffling breezes, bore down gallantly 
 towards the prize, but suddenly veered upon a 
 new tack, and shortly after struck his colours be- 
 neath a heavy fire from the eyes oh woman ? 
 woman ! of Miss Maria Morton. Captain 
 Forbes of the army besieged the fortress; but 
 upon a short parley from the walls, he turned at 
 once to the right-about, and obliqued off to the 
 left, double-quick step, upon some more feasible 
 expedition. An eloquent young lawyer, who had 
 been a good deal in the papers, and was supposed 
 to possess a weighty influence in the first ward, 
 rose to advance a motion, which the public, like a 
 court of inferior jurisdiction, immediately decided 
 in his favour : but love and law have both their 
 uncertainties ; for, upon an appeal to the highest 
 tribunal, the opinion was reversed. A club of 
 literati a street of young merchants a board of 
 brokers and a whole medical college were re- 
 ported to have suffered a veto in regular suc- 
 cession ; while penniless poets, promising editors, 
 law-students, and young men of talent were de- 
 clined ad infinitum with sweet condescension, 
 gracious regret, and a world of kind wishes for 
 their future welfare, and that their subsequent 
 paths might be " strewn with flowers !" It was 
 asserted by Howard, that Miss Temple was 
 obliged to keep a confidential clerk ; and that the 
 dismissals were issued in the form of printed 
 blanks, filled up, according to circumstances, with 
 name and date, without any further trouble or 
 knowledge of the young lady herself than a care- 
 less weekly perusal of the list of suitors' names,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 135 
 
 alphabetically arranged. But Morton declared 
 this to be a bouncer ; as his own had been care- 
 fully written in her own hand, on rose paper, 
 sealed with a cameo cupid, and composed, evi- 
 dently, at the express command of her mother, 
 who was mad after that d d French count. 
 
 "Why don't she marry?" said the world. " Time 
 flies ; and she must be eighteen at least." 
 
 " Why don't she marry ?" said Mrs. Hamilton, 
 one morning, to her husband. 
 
 " Because she is not afoot, my dear," growled 
 the happy husband. "She is young, rich, free, 
 and admired. Why should she marry? Like 
 others I could mention, she better becomes the 
 station of a belle than of a wife. Women nowa- 
 days are only made to look at." 
 
 " And men to fret and scold," said Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton, with a scowl. 
 
 " Come, come, my love," rejoined the husband, 
 " no pouting. What's done, you know, my angel, 
 can't be undone." 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton, you are a " 
 
 " A what, my dear ?" 
 
 The lady was silent. The husband thrust his 
 hands into his pantaloons pocket, kicked his robe 
 de chambre from the middle of the floor into a 
 corner (this dialogue matrimonial is presumed to 
 have taken place in what the French call the 
 chambre d coucher), muttered an oath, shrugged 
 his shoulders, and made his exit, whistling " The 
 Campbells are coming." 
 
 " There he goes," said Mrs. Hamilton to herself, 
 as the front-door slammed heavily after her re- 
 treating lord, and his choleric step died away on 
 the pavement "there he goes, and it will be mid- 
 night, now, ere I see him again. Who could have 
 believed it before we married I Then
 
 136 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " Miss Temple, too," murmured the neglected 
 wife, as she continued her revery, sighing the 
 while, and glancing her eyes upon the still lovely 
 image, presented by a large mirror. "Happy 
 girl !" (she rang the bell) " she will win the count 
 yet" (another sigh). " Well as Hamilton says 
 what's done " 
 
 The maid entered, and the complicated ma- 
 chinery of a small family went on with its opera- 
 tions. 
 
 To say that Norman Leslie had not visited at 
 Mrs. Temple's, after the occurrences related in the 
 foregoing chapters, would not be to say the truth ; 
 nor, indeed, that he never visited at Mr. Romain's. 
 On the contrary, he had occasionally beguiled an 
 evening with each family; and at both a young 
 and refined man, with a leaning to poetry, with- 
 out a wife, and with an intuitive delicacy which 
 preserved him from the grosser pleasures of a 
 mighty city he found much to attract and gratify 
 him. There were music, charming society, and 
 the gayest spirits ; in which, when the mood was 
 on him, he was fully competent to share, and even 
 to enliven. He had observed, during his infre- 
 quent visits to Miss Remain, that her character 
 had undergone a change, which sometimes induced 
 the opinion that he had wronged her ; and there 
 was in his bosom ever a generous yearning to ex- 
 cuse and to acquit. The once lively girl had now 
 become more staid and grave, sometimes even un- 
 happy. Norman could not be ignorant that he had 
 once excited the love of a bosom which, however 
 light and inconstant, was full of womanly feelings. 
 In the fervour of boyhood, her brilliant charms and 
 accomplishments had certainly impressed him with 
 a too warm sense of her loveliness ; but then, his 
 loftily sentimental character might have started 
 aside too suddenly, and mistaken the really care-
 
 GORMAN LESLIE. 137 
 
 less folly and unguarded thoughtlessness of a giddy 
 girl for inherent affectation and heartlessness. He 
 was no fop; but we shall not undertake to say 
 whether he could entirely exclude from his mind 
 a vague surmise, which, however forcibly dis- 
 missed, returned again and again, that this perma- 
 nent sadness, the pensive reserve of manner, might 
 result from a half-revived affection for him. Love 
 her he could not ; but youths of his caliber can 
 stretch their hearts to a wonderful complacency in 
 regarding the favour of a sweet girl, even when 
 that favour finds affections already flown. Her 
 manner towards him had been soft and alluring, 
 particularly so in the company of other ladies, and 
 most particularly in that of Miss Temple, who was 
 struck at the undisguised partiality which she 
 often exhibited for him. Whether this was really 
 re-awakened passion, or incorrigible coquetry, or 
 a desire to reclaim a half-freed captive, and dis- 
 play him before the world a double conquest or 
 whether the keen eye of a heartless flirt had de- 
 tected in the mind of her late lover deeper thoughts 
 than he chose to acknowledge of Flora Temple, 
 whom she envied, and whose envy she triumphed 
 in the thought of exciting must yet be left to con- 
 jecture. She continued by turns sad and gay, 
 sentimental, fond, and peevish, playing off the airs 
 of a capricious, spoiled, and impassioned woman ; 
 while Flora moved calmly in her orbit, as the moon 
 mounts steadily up the heavens, veiled sometimes 
 in a silver cloud, from which even the shadow is 
 beautiful ; or pouring her soft light from an azure 
 sky, whose utmost clearness is not freed from a 
 touch of melancholy. Norman Leslie and she ap- 
 peared farther separated in destiny than ever ; 
 yet he still secretly nourished for her an absorbing 
 and increasing passion, which he sometimes half- 
 imagined, for such dreams come soon, was not 
 
 M2
 
 138 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 unrequited: yet, while he more frequently and 
 familiarly visited the dwelling of Mr. Remain, he 
 called on the Temples but rarely ; and always 
 during his stay was uninteresting, cold, or em- 
 barrassed. He generally met the count there, 
 which by no means diminished his disquietude, 
 particularly as it seemed to be understood that 
 he was certainly and speedily to marry Flora 
 Temple. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 An Insight into the Character of an old but slight Acquaint- 
 ance A tender Revery interrupted. 
 
 " Than whom a better senator ne'er held 
 The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repell'd 
 The fierce Epirot and the African bold ; 
 Whether to settle peace, or to unfold 
 The drift of hollow States, hard to be spell'd." 
 
 Milton to Sir Henry Fane the Younger. 
 
 MR. MORDAUNT LESLIE sat alone in v his study. 
 Hitherto Norman, instead of his father, lias occu- 
 pied our reader ; let me now call his attention to 
 the latter. Perhaps the United States held no 
 character more striking and remarkable, more pe- 
 culiarly the growth of a mighty and stern republic, 
 where talent and eloquence make themselves felt. 
 Early in life he had entered the field of politics. 
 Being the son of a man who had figured brilliantly 
 in the Revolution, in the companionship of Wash- 
 ington, Kosciusko, Hamilton, and Lafayette ; and 
 belonging to one of the old, wealthy, and influen- 
 tial (for they could not be called aristocratic) fam-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 139 
 
 ilies of the country, he commenced his career with 
 numerous and powerful advantages. Long and 
 deeply had he struggled in the mighty game, and 
 always had he been the winner. Stronger and 
 stronger grew his sway louder and louder his 
 voice was heard ; and more and more reverently 
 it was listened to in every exciting emergency. At 
 the time of our story he stood among the highest of 
 American statesmen: profound'and grave, learned, 
 eloquent, and persevering, he had risen through the 
 intermediate grades between the obscurity of a pri- 
 vate citizen and his present rank in the Senate of 
 the United States. From that commanding sum- 
 mit, his dignified but never sleeping ambition formed 
 new plans, beheld higher, nobler eminences; few had 
 climbed so loftily with a character so unsullied : a 
 foreign ministry to Paris or London was talked of 
 by his friends. In the secret conclave of his confi- 
 dential circle, an ascent yet more audacious had 
 fixed their eyes ; nor did their aspiring hopes pause 
 lower than the highest seat in the republic. Many 
 candidates had striven openly for the presidential 
 chair with fewer claims, and more slender hopes, 
 than might be advanced and cherished by Mor- 
 daunt Leslie. 
 
 Late on the night to which we allude, business 
 of paramount importance having called him, for a 
 few days, from his duties at Washington to New- 
 York, he sat in his library, earnestly engaged in 
 studying a subject of deep interest about to come 
 under the consideration of the Senate. A rival 
 statesman, from the South, had attempted the pas- 
 sage of a bill which Mr. Leslie deemed, not only 
 striking at the foundation of the interests of the re- 
 public, but at the same time calculated to shake, 
 and perhaps tumble to the dust, the whole fabric of 
 his own private views, which he had been so long 
 and so successfully building up. Should this bill
 
 140 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 succeed, it would produce the most material and 
 the most unpleasant influences upon his life and 
 happiness. It was, indeed, one of those questions 
 wherein the whole strength of two mighty parties 
 come to be thrown, for the moment, into the hands 
 of two individuals, as ancient armies occasionally 
 confided their quarrel to the puissance of two sin- 
 gle combatants. Thousands anxiously waited the 
 result ; and the exciting sensation produced through 
 the country had already crowded the city of Wash- 
 ington with strangers, eager far the coming on of 
 the conflict. 
 
 On the succeeding day Mr. Leslie, with his son 
 and daughter, were to set out for the capital ; and 
 it was understood that a large party from New- 
 York intended also to be present, to hear the elo- 
 quence, and probably witness the triumph, of their 
 celebrated representative. Mr. and Mrs. Temple 
 were enthusiastically enlisted in the interests of the 
 party opposed to Mr. Leslie ; they had also pre- 
 pared to proceed to Washington, and were to start 
 early on the morrow. 
 
 As the statesman sat in the silent seclusion of his 
 study, while his son was wandering alone, indulging 
 blissful visions of Flora Temple, he was merged in 
 dreams of stern and grasping ambition ; not the am- 
 bition of Caesar, Napoleon, or Cromwell, but that of 
 Brutus and of Washington. At least, this was the 
 exalted sentiment with which he had stepped upon 
 the arena; this was the motive which he had set 
 up before his own heart ; but, as he grew nearer 
 and yet more near to the issue of the game, as the 
 bright reward of his daring mind shone almost 
 within his reach, who can say what changes went 
 on in his character ? Who can note the degree in 
 which, while his hopes strengthened, his ambition 
 also deepened ? >As he now bent over masses of 
 heavy documents ; as he sought a passage in a
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 141 
 
 ponderous tome ; now elucidating a point of his- 
 tory; now illustrating a question of law; now 
 noting down a classical quotation ; now pausing to 
 examine, enlarge, imbody in words, and commit to 
 memory a new and more fiery thought ; now turn- 
 ing over the leaves of Shakspeare for some won- 
 drous phrase, with which to link and send down the 
 tide of popular feeling a modern opinion ; as he 
 pondered over all the various arts by which a great 
 orator steeps and imbues himself with his theme, 
 hour after hour of the silent night rolled unhged- 
 edly away. 
 
 Few men find their hearts trembling with a more 
 eager anxiety upon the result of an event or an ac- 
 tion, than that of the soaring statesman as he looked 
 forward to this struggle on the floor of Congress. 
 The lover, waiting the word from the lips of his 
 mistress ; the mother, watching the leech as he 
 feels the pulse of her dying child; the gambler, his 
 all pledged, pausing ere he uncovers the dice ; the 
 culprit, bending to hear the verdict on his life per- 
 haps none of these are stirred with thoughts much 
 more deep and absorbing than those which rolled 
 through the mind of the ambitious, the haughty, the 
 eloquent, and the indignant senator. He felt in this 
 crisis like Leonidas at ThermopylaB; he stood 
 within the narrow gorge which he was to defend 
 with his own arm, and fearful he saw were the 
 odds against him. He was eloquent, and he knew 
 it. His heart swelled with the grandeur of con- 
 scious power; he longed, he yearned for the 
 moment of action. He sat like Jove above the 
 Titans, aware of the forces against him, but still 
 knowing himself to be Jove, still grasping the 
 thunder ; and, though they might pile up moun- 
 tains on mountains, still calmly and majestically 
 awaiting the time to launch the immortal bolt. 
 
 He had closed a volume of Montesquieu, after
 
 142 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 some hours of severe application ; and as he laid 
 down his pencil, and put aside the volume, he 
 breathed as one whose attention relaxes from a 
 long and fatiguing task ; and a smile slowly, and 
 just perceptibly, softened and lighted his majestic 
 face. The effect of the light, throwing its subdued 
 stream upon his noble features, formed a superb 
 subject for the pencil. It had the warm splendour 
 and the high character of a Titian. The imposing 
 person which we have admired in Norman ap- 
 peared even more dignified in the father : he was 
 taller, and his demeanour more uniformly and 
 calmly commanding ; his manners were remark- 
 able for a bland and smooth courtliness. Inter- 
 course with the world had imparted to his address 
 high-tempered polish and elegance, which fitted him 
 admirably for the diplomatic station to which it 
 was said the country would soon call him. By 
 Norman that fascinating ease and self-possession 
 were not yet fully possessed ; they flashed through 
 him only at intervals. At one hour they would hal- 
 low his society so, that woman yielded to the delu- 
 sive and dangerous influence ; and at the next, it 
 would pass away as if the flame had been with- 
 drawn from the vase ; and others would wonder 
 what people could find in him to admire. Mr. 
 Mordaunt Leslie would have been instantly re- 
 ceived with delight at the most fastidious and pol- 
 ished court of Europe ; but his son would have re- 
 mained a time in the shadow, and been compelled 
 to rise by degrees, unless some sudden crisis 
 brought his talent into notice. Both were of the 
 same rich material : the former was perfected from 
 the hands of the artist ; the latter, yet partly un- 
 wrought. 
 
 In Mr. Leslie only one passion coped with his 
 ambition : it was paternal love. He had married, 
 at the early age of twenty, a woman whose rare
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 143 
 
 charms and excellences neither poet nor painter 
 can too highly depict. She was the only one he 
 ever had loved. Mutually endeared by the recip- 
 rocal influences of genius and romance, by remark- 
 able beauty of person and gentleness of charac- 
 ter, they had dwelt together contentedly happy ; 
 nay, blessed beyond common mortals. While 
 she lived his life had been a sunshiny romance a 
 fairy dream nothing but sunshine, poetry, and 
 love. But a rapid malady which, even while it 
 cut off her life, had beautified and etherealized both 
 her mind and person deprived him of this beloved 
 being. From the whole ardour and very romance 
 of love, his mind had rolled gradually into a new 
 channel. Never, subsequently, had women been to 
 him more than sisters : all the tenderness of his na- 
 ture had centred upon Julia and Norman ; in the 
 former he found a fair copy of his wife in the lat- 
 ter, of himself. For a year after his bereavement, 
 in the loneliest hours of the night, he had visited the 
 turf beneath which, cold to his anguish and his 
 love, slept the bosom of the beautiful and vanished 
 object of ,his early worship. And then the lover, 
 the quiet, shrinking, world-despising lover the 
 haunter of brooks, the feeder of birds; the modest, 
 unpresuming youth, who had murmured the very 
 breath of poetry to the ear of beauty ; who had 
 pored over the hues of a flower, or the shape of a 
 cloud ; who had sought to master the art of music, 
 that he might, in a new language, tell to her how he 
 loved her footmarks, and how he was enraptured 
 beneath her gaze ; he, to whom mankind had been 
 but the actors in a gory tragedy or a grotesque 
 farce, from both of which he turned, in the fulness 
 of his bliss, still to linger and murmur his passion 
 to one modest rose in the wild wood ; he reap- 
 peared among his fellow-creatures the resolute 
 votary of ambition forgetting music, woman, na-
 
 144 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 t ure the midnight student, the severe satirist, 
 the haranguer of mobs, the candidate for office, 
 the foremost in the jar, dust, tumult, and sinewy 
 struggle of brawling and smoky cities. Thus are 
 men's characters formed. What now was the wife 
 of his boyhood ? a flower he had watched years 
 ago, as it faded^by the road-side a laughing brook, 
 whose channel was dusty a lyre, whose strings 
 were broken a sylvan dell, once fringed with foli- 
 age and scented with sweet roses, but whose 
 green and silent depths, where his boyish foot had 
 trod when the world was all new, he* could never 
 never visit again. He had ceased to be a lover ; 
 he had ceased to be a husband. He was now only 
 the father and the statesman. 
 
 As he saw at length the close of his studies for 
 the night, he closed the volume ; and the smile 
 which stole across his features announced the pleas- 
 ure of anticipated triumph. 
 
 He rose, lighted a fragrant cigar, and sat down 
 again, rather to muse than to study ; for he had 
 arrived at that age when but little sleep is requisite, 
 and he who would gain and preserve ascendency 
 over his fellow-men must learn to waste but few 
 hours in slumber. 
 
 Thus ran the midnight musings of the states- 
 man: 
 
 " Oh that this battle were fought and won ! Oh 
 that it were ! But it will be it shall! Cunning 
 and ambitious as he is, I will meet him front to 
 front, breast to breast. He shall find me no recoil- 
 ing boy. I will make him feel and fear me. Let 
 it come. Perhaps best it should : I will attack 
 him in his fortress ; I will scale his impregnable 
 walls. Why, what but personal ambition can lead 
 him to such audacious designs ? And yet, he has 
 no young eagle, as I have, ready to launch upon
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. , 145 
 
 the tempest ; if he had, I could fancy the ground of 
 his ambition." 
 
 He paused ; and then continued 
 
 " That boy is already a man. I mark his mind 
 mature. I mark his energies unfold his person 
 develop his character broaden and deepen. All 
 that I have been, he shall be and more, much 
 more. He shall commence when I rest. But he 
 must travel and study. Of late he has idled his 
 hours in indolent city pleasures : Right he is of 
 the true metal. He will sicken of them as I did. 
 Let him see what a heartless thing it is. Already 
 his better, his higher, his hereditary nature breaks 
 forth. He reads much. He mopes. He thinks. 
 Perhaps it is love well, be it so ! If he escape 
 that enchanted island if some Calypso do not per- 
 suade him to linger for ever in her perennial bowers 
 then will he mount on the wind, and gaze on the 
 very sun unblinded, as i do, 
 
 " My sweet Julia, too was ever man so blessed 
 in son and daughter ? who might not be proud to 
 ask her hand ? That young Howard is well enough, 
 too fire and genius in him rich, bold, eloquent: 
 and then she loves him ; I see it in all her looks, 
 words, and actions. Yes happy, happy beings! 
 they love each other. Blessings on them ! bless- 
 ings on them ! I would not shadow one ray of 
 their bright hearts no, not even for ambition. 
 
 " My old friend Judge Howard, too, is no mean 
 ally ; a proud, firm old man. Yes, yes, I am 
 happy too, too happy, considering that she is 
 not of our circle. Beloved, beautiful, sanctified 
 Julia, art thou a spirit ? dost thou lean from the 
 wind to gaze on, and bless us, dearest, most 
 adored ? Dost thou watch the heart which has 
 been none but thine ? Dost thou still behold, still 
 know, still love me, sweet, sweet spirit of my
 
 146 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 gone days ? Speak, speak give me some sign, 
 some token " 
 
 A shriek of such intense and piercing horror 
 broke in upon his meditations, that the dreamer, 
 already half-lost in unearthly visions, started as if 
 some pale ghost had indeed replied.. The next 
 moment there stood before him an image to his 
 disturbed imagination strangely resembling the 
 being then uppermost in his fancy. It was an in- 
 stant before he recognised his daughter Julia, in a 
 loose night-dress of white, her face deadly pale, 
 and a spot of blood on her cheek. 
 
 Such are the discords which break upon the 
 music of hope's enchanted strain. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The Dreams of the Young as contrasted ivith those of the 
 Old in the foregoing Chapter, and an Interruption more 
 awkward than the last. 
 
 " Manoah. Some dismal accident it needs must be ; 
 
 What shall we do, stay here, or run and see ?" 
 
 Samson Jlgonistes. 
 
 THE reader has already classed Norman Leslie 
 among those characters so frequent at the present 
 day, thoughtful, ardent, contemplative, and inac- 
 tive young men, viewing all things through the 
 medium of a strong imagination, much swayed by 
 impulse, and accustomed to exaggerate all that 
 befalls them. A vein of poetry and romance ran 
 through his character, which active and laborious 
 occupation had never broken up. Reared in the 
 lap of wealth and luxury, he lacked the stimulus
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 147 
 
 to action which forces most men, for the support 
 of life, amid the harsh realities and homely con- 
 flicts of business. Full of musing melancholy, 
 sensitive to every passing impression, much of 
 boyish illusion yet lingered about his steps ; and 
 love, when once kindled by a worthy object, be- 
 came immediately the absorbing principle of his 
 nature and of his existence. The shock which his 
 young confidence had received from Miss Romain 
 had both sharpened his observation and deepened 
 his character. For a time his soul recoiled, not 
 only from the giddy and frivolous girl who had 
 so deceived him, but from the very passion into 
 which he had been deceived. Then Flora Tem- 
 ple's image rose before him with a new, a more 
 delicious, and bewildering power. He repelled it ; 
 he even attempted to deride and undervalue it. 
 Unable to banish it, he admitted it but only at first 
 to scrutinize and condemn. He would not ac- 
 knowledge to himself, that after having bent before 
 the fascinations of one, he could so soon yield to 
 those of another. Hence his almost bitter deline- 
 ation of Flora's character at Mrs. Temple's to 
 Moreland ; hence his frequent coldness of manner 
 towards herself. He struggled against the fetters 
 which her every action, look, and smile wove 
 around his soul. He strove to force his mind into 
 the conviction that she was less perfect than she 
 appeared. There was a time when Rosalie Ro- 
 main had just so spell-bound him ; so once at the 
 sound of her step, at the tone of her voice, his 
 pulse had leaped, his heart had trembled. He 
 would break away from the enchantress he 
 would fly from the effeminate allurements of all 
 women. Broad and noble paths were opened to 
 his pride and his ambition. Deep in his heart, 
 although yet not fully awakened, lay a thousand 
 high aspirations. The yearning after the world's
 
 148 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 applause, the quiet but never-ceasing thirst for 
 the scholar's lore, philanthropy, and the hope of 
 being one day useful to his race all these with- 
 out ostentation mingled in the material of Norman 
 Leslie's character. And there were moments when 
 he resolved to turn away even from love, even 
 from the love of Flora Temple, as from a selfish 
 passion that would enervate and entangle his 
 mind. But these were only moments ; and from 
 undervaluing her, he swept to the other extreme. 
 Nothing vacillates more widely and frequently 
 than the mind of a youthful lover. The idea of her 
 union with Clairmont clothed her with new at- 
 tractions, by that strange principle of our nature 
 which renders things more precious when beyond 
 our reach. He had already learned to regard her 
 as one too angelic to share his human path. 
 
 These were his reflections as, silent and alone, 
 on the evening designated in the preceding chap- 
 ter, he wended his way by the uncertain light of 
 the stars from a gay revel, where he had again lin- 
 gered, enchanted, by the side of Flora. All the 
 tenderness of his love descended upon him. The 
 hushed solitude around, the broad heavens above, 
 contributed to soften his mind into one of those 
 romantic reveries with which imaginative men 
 often repay themselves in their secret hours for 
 the harsh disappointments of the dull inexorable 
 world. Around him rose a creation of his own 
 fancy, peopled with his fondest dreams his most 
 secret and tender aspirations. Thus lost in medi- 
 tation, and insensibly charmed by the quiet beauty 
 of the night, he paced slowly onward, he scarcely 
 knew whither, but in a direction opposite to that of 
 his own dwelling. 
 
 Oh, the dreams of a young lover in a solitary 
 night ramble ! Where else does the world brighten 
 into such an elysium 1
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 149 
 
 " Then, indeed," continued the musing youth, 
 as the current of his thoughts flowed silently and 
 sweetly on thoughts which took their tinge of 
 happiness from the grace and innocent loveliness 
 of their beautiful subject " then, indeed, what 
 an Eden would be the earth ! what a blissful 
 dream would be existence ! what a sunny joy, 
 what a golden radiance would steal across my 
 path ! Flora Temple should confess she loved 
 me. To sit alone by her side, steeped in the rap- 
 ture of fully requited affection to thrill with the 
 grace of her bashful confidence, of her timid 
 and yielding love to wind my arm unreproved 
 around her graceful form to feel her breath on 
 my cheek, to linger beneath the touch of those 
 young and loving lips, to hear them pour out the 
 breathings of that pure and exalted soul, to sit 
 hours and hours, looking into the beauty which 
 floats in her eyes now murmuring my impas- 
 sioned worship now listening to her fond return ; 
 my hand clasped in hers as 1 noted the rise and 
 passing away of some wandering blush, as a 
 happy feeling stirred in her breast. With such a 
 being for my wife, existence would fleet away like 
 an exhalation. What joy to read to her all that 
 poetry has reared of golden enchantment ! to wan- 
 der with her through the magnificent realms 
 built so superbly up by the hand of fiction to ride 
 forth in the summer morning amid the fragrant 
 woods ; or, in the mellow, deep sunset-hour, from 
 the portico of some dear and sylvan abode, to note 
 the tinges fade from the clouds, to bend and ad- 
 mire together the floweret by the roadside, to trace 
 the wanderings of the humming-bee ; or to look 
 together up to the hushed and holy heavens, our 
 characters and affections, as our thoughts, purified 
 and elevated ! thus, with that dear angel ever by 
 my side, to choose out our favourite stars among 
 N 2
 
 150 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 those ever-burning myriads. Yon kindling orb 
 should be hers ; and that faint spark close to its 
 side should teach her how dim and yet how near 
 my soul was to her own. 
 
 "Then, travel I would take her over the 
 world ; we would study together the history and 
 languages of the mighty Europe ; we would 
 wander, still hand-in-hand, over its traces of daz- 
 zling splendour and solemn desolation the wrecks 
 of time and history, the sublime footmarks of the 
 great of old. 
 
 "And wherefore should I doubt? Mystery 
 hangs around her, but it is not in her. Has not 
 her manner melted, has not her voice trembled to 
 me ? And yet they tell me that she is the affianced 
 bride of Clairmont !" 
 
 He had now rambled on unknowingly far out of 
 his way to a remote and solitary part of the town, 
 and was threading a dark and narrow lane, where 
 only a distant lamp shed any beam of light. Per- 
 ceiving that he had lost his way, he paused ; and 
 at that moment received a heavy blow, stag- 
 gered several paces back, and fell to the earth 
 nearly senseless. In an instant, however, recover- 
 ing from the shock, he felt a powerful hand, and 
 trembling with intense eagerness, busy at his throat, 
 while the murderer seemed feeling with the other 
 in his bosom. Something fell to the pavement, 
 ringing like the blade of a dagger, and was in- 
 stantly grasped up again. With the vehement 
 fury of despair, the prostrate victim suddenly 
 clutched the throat of his assailant, and a fierce, 
 rapid, and tremendous struggle ensued, such as 
 swells the veins of men striving for life and 
 death. For a moment the profound silence was 
 disturbed only by the stamping and trampling 
 of heavy and desperate feet. Roused to the full 
 exertion of his athletic form, Leslie had acquired
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 151 
 
 a slight advantage over his opponent, and, with an 
 exclamation of deep triumph, was about to dash 
 him to the earth, when a cold and thrilling sensa- 
 tion in his side for a moment checked his breath, 
 and shot through his soul the terrible sense of 
 death. His voice rose, and rang far and wide on 
 the air, startling the solemn silence with the cry, 
 so blood-curdling when heard through the night, 
 of " Murder ! murder !" 
 
 " Ha ! hell !" cried a voice. With each excla- 
 mation Leslie felt the desperate plunge of his as- 
 sailant's arm, and scarcely knew whether or not 
 the blade drank his life. 
 
 The cry, however, alarmed the neighbourhood. 
 A watchman awoke and struck his club upon the 
 pavement ; windows were slammed open, and 
 nightcaps emerged into the air. But ere assist- 
 ance reached him, Leslie grew deadly sick. His 
 eyes swam, his brain reeled ; unnatural figures, 
 ghastly faces, and lurid lights glided and glared 
 around him. With an intensely clear conception 
 that he was floating into the realms of death, all 
 grew gradually dark, cold, and silent ; then sen- 
 sation passed utterly away.
 
 152 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A Family Picture The discriminating Delicacy of Party 
 Politicians. 
 
 " There is one piece of sophistry practised by both sides, and 
 that is, the taking any scandalous story that has been ever whis- 
 pered or invented of a private man for a known undoubted truth, 
 and raising suitable speculations upon it." 
 
 The Spectator. 
 
 THE gray light of dawn stole into the chamber. 
 Norman lay stretched upon his back on the couch, 
 his features settled into a livid and ghastly hue, as 
 if death had already struck him : cold passion- 
 less^-senseless rigid ; the eyes closed, the cheeks, 
 forehead, and mouth sharpened. Recall him as he 
 moved a few hours before in the flush of strength 
 and health, or wandered in blissful reveries beneath 
 the stars, weaving visions of future joy. How 
 strange that all, even when they least dream of it, 
 may have run to the edge of the abyss. What a 
 happy constitution of our nature which can ever 
 forget this frightful truth which can lose itself in 
 the dance and the song; which can watch the 
 melting cloud, the fading rainbow, the withering 
 flower ; and never tremble never remember that 
 we ourselves are as fleeting. 
 
 Over the prostrate and almost unbreathing form 
 of the youth bent four figures. The first was a 
 surgeon, eminent both in Europe and America for 
 his extraordinary skill, and the success with which
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 153 
 
 he had for many years performed most difficult 
 and daring operations. Long habit had rendered 
 him callous to every sign of distress, either in the 
 patient or the bleeding hearts of the circle around. 
 He could take you off a limb with a quiet smile, 
 and draw the glittering and fearful instrument 
 through the shrinking convulsive flesh of the living, 
 with the same accustomed composure with which 
 he laid open the mysteries of God's mightiest ma- 
 chine in death. He stood over Norman calmly, 
 and with that slight air of professional importance 
 which few, if any, can separate from their exer- 
 tions of skill. The patient breathed with a mo- 
 mentarily lengthened respiration, and a low faint 
 moan broke from his pallid lips. The half-smiling 
 practitioner had just dressed the wounds, with as 
 much apparent solicitude to preserve his own 
 wristbands unstained, as to secure the life which 
 ebbed so low in the youth's veins. You would 
 have imagined Dr. Wetmore, from his bland and 
 pleasant air, superintending some pretty chymical 
 operation, rather than striving to reunite those half- 
 severed ties which held a human soul from its flight 
 into eternity. 
 
 By his side Dr. Melbourne, the first physician of 
 the city, watched the face, and ever and anon felt 
 the pulse, of the object of their solicitude. His 
 prepossessing features were, although in but a slight 
 degree, more touched with solemnity ; and if calm 
 and deliberate in every motion, still he did not 
 smile. He exhibited undivided attention in the suf- 
 fering of the patient. Perhaps, being more familiar 
 with pain in a less bloody form, and in a sphere 
 immediately comprehended within his own circle 
 of skill, the sight now before him struck upon 
 those sympathies undulled by use. On the other 
 side kneeling, her hair dishevelled, her dress 
 thrown hastily on, pale, agitated with suspense,
 
 154 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 anguish, and horror the light shone faintly on the 
 features of Miss Leslie. Lastly, the noble form 
 of the father in that majestic and almost proud 
 attitude unconsciously assumed by those exercis- 
 ing a strong power over passion or feeling. His 
 face was pale indeed ; his lips compressed ; but 
 the muscles of his features moved not there was 
 not a start, a stir, a tear when the two learned 
 gentlemen raised themselves as the task was fin- 
 ished. Norman still lay insensible, and the picture 
 of death. Indeed, for a moment both father and 
 sister thought the spirit fled. 
 
 "Is he gone? is it over?" asked Mr. Leslie, his 
 paleness increasing, as his medical advisers slowly 
 withdrew from the bed. He followed them ; Miss 
 Leslie did so likewise, with a faint and choked 
 sob, her hands clasped, and her eyes streaming 
 with tears. 
 
 One or two significant looks passed between the 
 doctors, and then the surgeon replied in a low 
 whisper, 
 
 " Why, Mr. Leslie, as yet " 
 
 A scarcely perceptible convulsion flitted across 
 the face of the father. 
 
 " As yet he lives, but " 
 
 Miss Leslie sank back in a chair in agony, bent 
 down her head, and covered her face with her 
 hands 
 
 " My brother my brother oh, my brother !" 
 
 Mr. Leslie drew his companion yet farther away, 
 where their voices might not disturb the invalid. 
 Melbourne returned to the bedside. 
 
 "Dr. Wetmore," said the father, "speak the 
 worst. Must he die ?" 
 
 " Impossible to say, my good sir. The scales 
 hang even. A moment a breath a hair may 
 decide ; but the danger is certainly not imme- 
 diate."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 155 
 
 ' He may then recover ?" 
 
 " Possibly," replied the surgeon, passing his fin- 
 gers over the sleeve of his coat to brush away a 
 thread. 
 
 Night again arrived. The most gloomy fore- 
 bodings were entertained of the patient. Norman 
 remained weak and in great pain. All conversa- 
 tion was forbidden him. It was the day of their 
 intended visit to Washington ; Julia had forgotten 
 it. The gayeties of fashionable life had occupied 
 but little of her thoughts ; she enjoyed, but never 
 abandoned herself to them. Her anticipations of 
 the seat of government were largely made up of 
 the expected triumph of her father in the long 
 looked for debate. Never beat a more tender and 
 affectionate heart than hers. Whatever she loved, 
 she loved enthusiastically, romantically. Although 
 her young soul had learned to yield itself to the 
 solicitations of Howard, she found no diminution 
 of her affection for her brother and father. The 
 attachment was not like other attachments ; there 
 were in its progress no doubts, no dislikes, no 
 heart-burnings, no oppositions. It was the growth 
 of a kind and gentle climate, shooting up and 
 blossoming richly in perpetual sunshine. Her 
 nature was all love. Terrible were the thoughts 
 which broke upon her young dreams, while she 
 watched Norman's pillow. She had never before 
 suffered a misfortune ; had never even seen sick- 
 ness ; and death it seemed to her the calamity of 
 some lower world. The ghastly and frightful 
 spectre had scarcely ever entered even the sunny 
 circle of her thoughts. She had never lost a 
 friend. Her mother had passed away long before 
 her memory; and she pictured her, not in the start- 
 ling and awful vestments of the grave, but as an 
 angel in heaven. Happy girl ! happy girl ! she 
 had never seen her heart's dearest adored struck
 
 156 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 by the sudden shaft from smiling health to the 
 dark and hashed bed of agony. She had never 
 seen the form the most doted on wasted, palsied, 
 and strengthless ; the voice, interwoven with years 
 of love, changed, till it met her with a strange and 
 unnatural tone ; the lips shrunken to an expression 
 never seen before ; the eyes gleaming with a so- 
 lemnity new and appalling, as if some demon had 
 entered the body ; the form so hallowed, so ten- 
 derly dear, racked with all the tremendous engines 
 of disease and death. 
 
 Mr. Leslie's emotions were for a time equally 
 undivided. He forgot his lofty schemes; hia 
 haughty ambition all the statesman passed from 
 his bosom, and left him exposed to the agony of a 
 father's solicitude. But as the second night wore 
 away, other thoughts began to mingle with those 
 to which he had at first been a prey. The habits 
 of thirty years are deep and obstinate. This 
 dreadful calamity had occurred at a moment when 
 his presence at Washington was pledged, not only 
 to his own hopes, but to the hopes of a mighty por- 
 tion of his country. Not only would he by his ab- 
 sence suffer a blow from which, probably, he would 
 never be able to recover, but his constituents 
 would never retrieve the loss. Perhaps these 
 thoughts would have had less influence over his 
 mind, perhaps they would not even have gained 
 entrance there at all, but for an occurrence which, 
 although he might have done so, he had not in the 
 least foreseen. Party spirit in the United States 
 sometimes rages with unlimited fury ; sometimes 
 (shame to those among my countrymen who 
 countenance such violations of decency !) descends 
 to the most unjustifiable means to put up or put 
 down a powerful politician^ The misfortunes or 
 accidents of private life are by a certain class 
 seized upon with indiscriminating avidity. Per-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 157 
 
 sonal feelings, even domestic casualties of the most 
 sacred nature, are not unfrequently dragged forth 
 to feed the thirst for ridicule and slander which 
 these thoughtless agents, tools of political leaders, 
 think it not beneath them to resort to. I am not 
 here speaking of my country; I allude but to 
 those (and they are very often foreigners) who 
 by this licentiousness disgrace and insult it. On 
 the present occasion, the fond father, while over- 
 whelmed in unutterable anxiety and anguish, found 
 a certain set of daily journals ridiculing his dis- 
 tress, and endeavouring to link it with fabrications 
 dishonourable to him. One organ of the opposite 
 party observed " The report, ;so currently circu- 
 lated to-day, of the robbery and assassination of 
 Mr. Norman Leslie, son of the celebrated Mr. 
 Mordaunt Leslie, proves to be but a trick. Mr. 
 Norman Leslie was hurt, as our respectable con- 
 temporary the 'Democratic Journal' has it, in a 
 fray. If young gentlemen will sow, they must 
 expect to reap. The wounds, however, we are 
 credibly informed, are altogether unimportant; 
 but the eloquent statesman is happy to avail him- 
 self of any excuse for not meeting the thunders of 
 
 Mr. B , which he well knows would burst 
 
 upon him were he to show himself at this period 
 in the Senate of the United States." 
 
 These and other paragraphs forced the subject 
 of his political affairs upon his attention in a new 
 light ; and as he hung over the pillow of his son, 
 his mind was torn with contending emotions. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 156 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The American Capitol The Presidents Levee, a Trifle 
 which may chance to be of more Importance than the 
 Reader thinks. 
 
 " 'Tis slander : 
 
 Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue 
 Out-venoms all the worms of Nile ; whose hreath ^ 
 
 Rides on the posting wind, and doth belie 
 All corners of the world ; kings, queens, and states, 
 Maids, matrons ; nay, the secrets of the grave 
 This viperous slander enters." 
 
 Cymbeline. 
 
 NEVER had there been a gayer season at Wash- 
 ington. The session of Congress was one of the most 
 interesting since that which had issued the Decla- 
 ration of Independence. Of course, the crowd 
 was immense. The city, as everybody knows, or 
 ought to know, although the plan of a leviathan 
 town, of unequalled splendour, is as yet but a mere 
 sprinkling of houses over a large plain and two or 
 three abrupt hills, in location not unlike ancient 
 Rome. There is but one street, Pennsylvania 
 Avenue, worthy of the name; which, from its 
 length and breadth, and the fact that it is the 
 grand thoroughfare, assumes an air of importance, 
 without presenting any particular claims to atten- 
 tion. The private residences of the great are 
 away off in this direction and in that, at such in- 
 ordinate distances from each other as to render 
 boot-making and hackney-coach driving more than 
 usually profitable trades. The citizens themselves
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 159 
 
 live comfortably and snugly together, with no 
 marked difference to distinguish them from the in- 
 habitants of other large villages, except a some- 
 what arrogant demeanour on account of the Capi- 
 tol, and peradventure a contemptuous smile in the 
 face of a New-Yorker or Philadelphian, who should 
 praise the City Hall or the United States Bank of 
 their respective cities. There is a small theatre, 
 some pretty churches, and several immense hotels. 
 The President's house would pass for a palace in 
 Europe ; and the Capitol, a structure of white mar- 
 ble, situated on a high and lofty eminence, is at 
 once magnificent and stupendous. You can 
 scarcely tire of perusing its imposing and gigan- 
 tic proportions. You may ride round it again 
 and again, view it from every position, at every 
 period of the day, it continues to grow upon the 
 imagination. Its ponderous dome reminds you of 
 St. Peter's. Both the interior and exterior views 
 are full of grandeur. The Rotunda is lofty and 
 superb. Then, how alive it is with echoes ! 
 Every accidental sound is repeated and magni- 
 fied; reverberating strange noises, that mingle 
 into moans and waitings like the grieving of spirits 
 in the air. Men and women, too, look so little on 
 the broad floor and beneath that soaring vault 
 
 The finest prospect is from the terrace. It 
 is really remarkable and beautiful. The hill is 
 abrupt, and sufficiently high to command a pano- 
 ramic view of the city and surrounding country, 
 the residence of the chief of the republic showing 
 finely from a distant hill ; and the Potomac sweep- 
 ing on with its broad current, to which the Seine 
 and the Thames are but rivulets. 
 
 It was a mild and pleasant afternoon towards 
 the end of March, and a few evenings after the 
 singular attempt upon young Leslie's life. The 
 sun had gone down radiantly, leaving all the west
 
 160 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 a wall of golden light, and the earth lay beneath 
 steeped in purple softness and tranquil beauty. 
 Congress had adjourned for the day, and hundreds 
 were pouring, all in the same direction (and all 
 busily engaged in commenting upon the occur- 
 rences of the debate just concluded), from the 
 steep Capitol-hill and into the broad Pennsylvania 
 Avenue. Many members were dashing down on 
 horseback, and a train of carriages conducted 
 others to their hotels or houses. 
 
 We have said that the crisis was an interesting 
 one. At this period it had reached its acme. 
 The next day was that fixed for the long expected 
 and much talked of speech of Mr. Leslie. The 
 news of the catastrophe which at this unfortunate 
 moment had happened to his son had reached 
 Washington, with many various modifications 
 and exaggerations. His strong attachment to 
 his family was well known. It w r as doubted 
 whether young Mr. Leslie was not dying nay, 
 was not dead. Flying reports glanced from lip 
 to lip. The question of the great statesman's 
 arrival became one of general conversation and 
 interest ; and, perhaps, of the throngs who now 
 issued from that immense and most beautiful edi- 
 fice, nearly all were either speaking or thinking of 
 the accomplished and soul-stirring orator, who had 
 already flung down his gauntlet fiercely to the 
 most eloquent leader of the opposite party; and 
 whose absence now, while it deprived the con- 
 course of the conflict, perhaps as interesting as 
 that of the two last gladiators on a Roman amphi- 
 theatre, left also a strong disappointment upon 
 his excited and expecting party. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to remind the European 
 reader that, in a republic like the United States, 
 eloquence is an art peculiarly important, and con- 
 sequently peculiarly cultivated. Questions of the
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 161 
 
 deepest weight have agitated her councils, fully 
 betraying the fiery energies and outbreaks of a 
 youthful people ; and her legislative floor has 
 already trembled beneath bursts of passionate and 
 lofty eloquence, such as shook the Roman Forum 
 when Rome was free. These periods, however, 
 thus far have only illustrated the strength of the 
 political fabric, and fully confirmed the confidence 
 of her people. Like every other human bark, she 
 floats upon an ocean, and beneath a sky, where 
 danger sometimes yawns in her path and thunders 
 above her head ; but she has ridden securely and 
 majestically the elemental war. The fury of po- 
 litical zeal, and the clash and fluctuations of com- 
 mercial interests, have sometimes shrouded her 
 in alarm and darkness; but the clouds soon broke 
 away, and instead of discovering but the scattered 
 fragments of a wreck, we find her swollen canvass 
 still lofty in the sun, and her star-spangled banner 
 streaming on the wind. Her only object is the 
 freedom and happiness of the human race ; and 
 the experience of past ages furnishes her a chart 
 by which she may hope to avoid the quicksands 
 of treachery and the rocks of foreign and domestic 
 ambition. Other nations boast of their country ; 
 why should not the American be proud of his? 
 Conceit is a charge most commonly and sneeringly 
 urged against us. What other nation does not 
 equally merit it? Who so arrogant, so overbear- 
 ing, so uncompromisingly exacting in his claims 
 to national superiority, as the Englishman? Who 
 so ludicrously tenacious, so likely to run you 
 through the body in the defence of the grand glory 
 of his country, as a Frenchman ? It is a very 
 honourable, happy, and useful feeling. Why shall 
 not we also regard the future with hope ? Who 
 can so justly point to the past and the present 
 with exultation ? 
 
 o2
 
 162 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 The crowd passed away. The sun went down 
 soft as the eyes of a widowed wife ; full and 
 melancholy rose the moon. It was the night of 
 the President's levee and all the world were to be 
 there. This is the American court. Here gathers 
 into a focus the flower of American talent, although 
 necessarily blended with dashes of more homely 
 material. 
 
 At nine, Howard and his father drove to 
 the large and palace-like building of the Presi- 
 dent ; and making their way with some difficulty 
 through the throng of equipages, they drove in Be- 
 neath the arch, and soon found themselves in the 
 brilliantly lighted and crowded apartments. The 
 coup cfasil, indeed, was dazzling : so many rooms 
 were thrown open so much gay company had 
 already assembled nymphs and sylphs floating 
 all over in groups officers in glittering uniforms 
 and a heterogeneous mixture of the great and 
 the lovely tributes from town and country ex- 
 quisites from Philadelphia, New- York, and Boston 
 dashing 61egants from Charleston and Baltimore. 
 The sturdy planter from the South, master, per- 
 ad venture, of a hundred or two slaves plain grave 
 men from the Western settlements the culled for 
 talent from the sparse population belles from the 
 meridian of city fashion, with the true Parisian 
 air and elegance. Indeed, the classes meeting 
 here are strikingly opposite and picturesque 
 the gleanings of a country comprising an area of 
 two millions square miles. 
 
 " Come, my son," said the judge, " our first duty 
 is to the President." 
 
 " I do not see him, sir," said Howard, looking 
 around. 
 
 " Yonder, Hal, at the lower end of the room ; 
 that plain old gentleman standing to receive the 
 presentations. Look, Governor L is taking
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 163 
 
 up Mrs. and Miss Temple. See how kindly and 
 simply familiar he is with all alike. He chats as 
 gracefully and easily now as a young beau. It is 
 a fine sight, Hal." 
 
 "It is interesting from its perfect simplicity and 
 absence of ostentation," replied Howard. 
 
 They made their way up to the first man of the 
 republic, and the judge introduced his son. The 
 President was surrounded by a circle of ladies and 
 gentlemen, and a light and agreeable conversation 
 was going on; in which, for a few moments, young 
 Howard bore his part with ready address. 'There 
 was perceptible in the whole circle nothing more 
 than an intelligent and hospitable host welcoming 
 his guests. But the numbers of introductions pre- 
 vented of course any prolonged conversation. 
 
 " Look around you, my son," said the judge, 
 who, in the exercise of his duties a cold, firm, 
 astute, and devoted labourer, yet nurtured, as such 
 men even when least suspected very often do, a 
 green spot in his heart, where affection and poetic 
 feeling were as fresh and verdant as in the bosom 
 of a boy, and who watched over the education of 
 his son with the fondest and tenderest care 
 " look around you, Hal ; you are in a spot which 
 should put your meditations in motion. Few on 
 the globe are more worthy your observationA 
 Here is the palace, court, and throne of your! 
 country the highest ornament, its moral glory. ^ 
 Here learn to love simplicity and national free- 
 dom. Here you breathe the pure atmosphere of 
 liberty and reason. You are the equal of him 
 whom you have chosen your chief. Guard your 
 actions, improve your mind, and you may one day 
 stand in his place." 
 
 " There are two persons here," said Howard, 
 who was accustomed to reason with his father 
 " there are two persons here to-night who jar
 
 164 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 somewhat on the pleasure which the scene 
 affords." 
 
 " Who, my son ?" 
 
 "Yonder broad-shouldered man, sir, has been 
 pointed out to me in the street as the master of 
 two hundred slaves " 
 
 A-hem !" said the judge : " and the other ?" 
 
 " Look there," rejoined Howard. 
 
 His father, following the direction of his eyes, 
 beheld the tall, startling, and majestic figure of an 
 Indian chief. He was in full costume, with his 
 guide, and stepped about the rooms cold, stern, 
 erect with his dark piercing eyes, straight hair, 
 and copper complexion ; a pipe and fan, however, 
 he held in his hand instead of a weapon, as an evi- 
 dence that he considered his nation no longer at 
 war with the United States. While he stood, a 
 painter, who had just obtained from him a promise 
 to sit for a portrait, observed to him, 
 
 " But, instead of your pipe and fan, you must 
 hold your spear." 
 
 " No," said the dark warrior ; " no spear for 
 me ; I have done with spears for ever." 
 
 " Did you hear that proud and melancholy re- 
 ply ?" continued Howard. " I could wish the slave- 
 master and the Indian out of the picture." 
 
 " You are yet unstudied in these matters, Hal. 
 Your feeling is noble, romantic, and natural. The 
 ardent and susceptible do not understand how 
 these things, being entailed on us by others, over 
 whom we had no control, now remain, and must re- 
 main, till gradually cleansed from our political sys- 
 tem by time and wisdom. You are right in sup- 
 posing them evils ; but wrong in the belief that 
 they are to be ascribed to us, or that we even have 
 the power of immediately disentangling ourselves 
 from them. But come, I see you are anxious to 
 get to the ladies ; and yonder is Miss Temple, look-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 165 
 
 ing as sad, and casting her eyes as often at you, as 
 if" 
 
 " I promised to let her know the intelligence in 
 my letter from the Leslies," said Howard. 
 
 " Well, well ; let me present you to one or two of 
 my intimates, and then you shall be at liberty to 
 seek out your own." 
 
 So saying, after selecting a dozen of the first 
 men in the rooms, and formally presenting his son, 
 he entered himself into their circle ; where he was 
 hailed as one of the most enlightened, profound, and 
 gifted members of their party. 
 
 Thus at leisure, Howard made his way through 
 scores of his acquaintance, and endeavoured to 
 gain the arm of Miss Temple ; but he was assailed 
 by Miss Remain, who, half-giddy with the flatteries 
 of gentlemen who, struck by her conspicuous 
 charms, had pressed successfully for an introduc- 
 tion to the beautiful belle from New- York, now 
 sprang upon him with that half-hoyden familiarity 
 with which she often covered her coquettish designs. 
 The young man found it impossible to escape. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Howard, so glad to see you ! I am 
 quite tired of governors, generals, and commo- 
 dores, and a plain mister is quite a relief. Ha ! 
 Count Clairmont ! good evening, sir. Why you 
 are quite a stranger : do you remember me ? or 
 shall we be introduced again ? I am ' Miss Remain, 
 from New-York;' 1 ' and she playfully (and very 
 vrell, too) mimicked the phrase w r hich had been 
 that evening so often repeated. 
 
 " Beautiful being !" whispered the count ; " shall 
 I ever forget " 
 
 " Nonsense, disagreeable creature !" said she, 
 bending her mouth towards Howard. " Don't you 
 hate that Count Clairmont ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Howard, " with all my heart." 
 
 Miss Romain looked surprised a moment.
 
 166 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " O Lord !" she continued, " here is that horrid 
 Indian ; I shall be tomahawked, I am sure. What 
 can bring such people here? And there is Mr. 
 D , the great editor ; and here, see this tall gen- 
 tleman, Colonel E , who, this very morning, had 
 
 his vest-button shot off by Mr. K ; and O 
 
 dear ! my charming Mrs. Hamilton, how do you 
 do ? Are you not delighted here? And why were 
 you not at the Secretary D 's last night ?" 
 
 It was with some difficulty that Howard disen- 
 gaged himself from Miss Remain ; who, knowing 
 that he was affianced to Miss Leslie, thought it a 
 pretty triumph for herself, could that young lady 
 be told, by some officious friend, that the lover had 
 flirted all the evening with her. At length, how- 
 ever, a young Englishman carried her off to eat an 
 ice ; and Howard found himself with Flora and 
 her mother. 
 
 " Come, Mrs. Temple," said Clairmont, " let us 
 make the tour." 
 
 " And shall I be so bold," asked Howard, " as to 
 offer my arm to one of the ladies, Miss Temple ?" 
 
 Flora knew well Miss Leslie's engagement to 
 Howard, and availed herself of his invitation with 
 secret joy. 
 
 " And pray, Mr. Howard," asked she, as they 
 glided away in a direction opposite to that taken by 
 her mother and Clairmont " pray, how is Miss 
 Leslie ? [ have suffered to learn how she bears 
 her terrible misfortune." 
 
 Howard related all he knew, which was in truth 
 little, and much conversation ensued between them. 
 They had wandered into a distant room, and came, 
 without perceiving it, near the spot where stood 
 Mrs. Temple and Clairmont, with their backs to- 
 wards them, so as to be quite unaware of their 
 proximity. 
 
 A distinguished southerner had just asked a 
 question the last words were audible to Flora
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 167 
 
 respecting Norman's accident, and the probability 
 of Mr. Mordaunt Leslie's reaching Washington in 
 time for the next day's debate. 
 
 " It would be a glorious thing," said Mrs. Tem- 
 ple, " were he to be away ; though, in good truth, 
 I pity him for his domestic calamity." 
 
 " For his son" said the cold voice of Clairmont, 
 " he is not worthy of pity ; he was hurt in some 
 drunken brawl ; he is a mere dissipated roue. I 
 know him to be a " The count's voice sank to a 
 lower tone ; but Flora could not help detecting the 
 words, " dishonest at cards," and " Miss Morton's 
 ring." 
 
 " Good God !" said the gentleman. 
 
 "True, true," said Mrs. Temple; "perfectly 
 true, I am sorry to say." 
 
 Howard had not heeded this extraordinary con- 
 versation. He had been, for the moment, absorbed 
 in contemplating the intelligent countenance of a 
 young politician, already reported to be a Catiline. 
 
 " Did you hear that V asked Flora, paler than 
 she had yet been. 
 
 " No, I beg your pardon," replied Howard ; 
 " what was it ?" 
 
 " Nothing," said Flora, faintly, and in a short 
 time rejoined her mother. 
 
 " Bless'me, my dear love !" said the latter, " why, 
 you look ill ! how unlucky !" 
 
 Howard remained till late ; but he was ab- 
 stracted, and in no mood to enjoy society. Around 
 him gathered groups of interesting and most dis- 
 tinguished men, both foreigners and natives, ora- 
 tors, members, senators, secretaries, office-holders, 
 and office-seekers ; but his thoughts were occupied 
 with his friend Norman's perilous situation, and the 
 distress of Julia. At length he retired, with a re- 
 solution to attend the debates one day more, and, if 
 then Mr. Leslie did not arrive, to set off himself 
 for New-York.
 
 168 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The American Senate Two or three popular Statesmen 
 Sketches, whose Originals may be as well found at the 
 present Day as at a former Period. 
 
 " On the contrary, I commend Demosthenes for leaving 
 
 the tears, and other instances of mourning which his domestic 
 misfortunes might claim, to the women, and going about such ac- 
 tions as he thought conducive to the welfare of his country : for, 
 I think, a man of such firmness and other abilities as a states- 
 man ought to possess, should always have the common concern 
 in view, and look upon his private accidents or business as a 
 consideration much inferior to the public." 
 
 PLUTARCH. 
 
 ON the subsequent morning the Senate assem- 
 bled at eleven. With great difficulty Howard 
 procured a seat. An immense crowd had thronged 
 to hear the interesting debate ; to witness the 
 struggle upon an arena where, in the full and fierce 
 conflict of intellect and genius, met the men i# 
 whose hands the destinies of the republic were re- 
 posed. B , the great opponent of Mr. Leslie, 
 
 was present ; and a sudden sensation ran round 
 the room as Mr. Leslie himself entered and took 
 his seat. Among the multitudes in the apartment, 
 a majority were ladies. The section allotted to 
 the auditors is on the same floor with the speakers; 
 and the fair daughters of Columbia were accom- 
 modated with seats by the politeness of the learned 
 senators, to the utter discomfiture of whole benches 
 of dandies and others of the male kind, who, by a 
 more early attendance, had fancied themselves
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 169 
 
 secure. After much pressure and toiling, much 
 rustling of silk, nodding of feathers, and glancing 
 of jewels, the mass at length settled into unmoving 
 silence, each one convinced that, however abomi- 
 nably uncomfortable the situation he occupied, it 
 was useless to strive after a better. A speaker 
 rose. Heads were turned necks stretched 
 mouths (women's and all) closed to hear Mr. 
 
 R address the Senate. Few in our country 
 
 have ever excited such universal and irrepressible 
 curiosity as this extraordinary man. He could 
 never even pass along the street without attracting 
 all eyes. It has been said that, " While he was a 
 bitter opponent, he was an unserviceable friend ;" 
 and that, " with all his brilliant talents, he never 
 made a proselyte or gained a vote ;" yet his ap- 
 pearance in the halls of legislation ever created a 
 murmur of interest. And as his tall and gaunt 
 form rose, it seemed to strike his opponents with 
 a feeling of dismay, as if some being of a different 
 nature had alighted on the earth to take part in the 
 battle. On this day, he divided the floor with two 
 other speakers, Mr. Leslie and his great opponent 
 
 Mr. B . The former possessed a heavy and 
 
 vehement power, which struck down opposition 
 with the deliberate strength and self-possession of 
 a giant ; and from the lips of the latter flowed 
 persuasion in an ever-deepening stream, bearing 
 the soul onward as if through fairy-land. But 
 
 the favourite weapon of Mr. R was sarcasm. 
 
 He differed from Mr. Leslie as Saladin did from 
 Richard : the British monarch cleaving a helmet 
 with his ponderous blade, while his agile rival 
 severed a piece of silk with his sabre. Nobody 
 could hear the Virginian orator without being 
 fascinated. His voice was of a feminine sweetness 
 and pliancy, singularly expressive as he warmed 
 in debate. His speech was full of classical and 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 170 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 poetical imagery; but, in consequence of his nu- 
 merous and curious digressions, it was, at times, 
 difficult to determine what was the subject of his 
 discourse. Every bosom, however, seemed alive 
 to the impressions of wonder and delight which he 
 created. Howard, if not instructed, was at least 
 charmed. The orator's exquisite and original wit 
 his strange sweet flow of poetic thought and mu- 
 sical language the matchless beauty of many pas- 
 sages his keen hints and hits his critiques on 
 matters in general ; and, more than all, his biting, 
 withering, and relentless satire can never be for- 
 gotten by those familiar with him as a speaker. 
 That strange and lofty form the oft-extended long 
 finger of that skeleton hand the snakish intensity 
 of those piercing black eyes the fiendishness of 
 his sneer the winning softness of his smile the 
 silver melody of his high voice ! they had much 
 to regret who were prevented from hearing him 
 by the pressure of the crowd on that memorable 
 day. As he seated himself, Mr. Leslie arose with 
 all the talent of his predecessor, but much more 
 carefully directed. His sole object at first to 
 convince the reason. He had the argumentative 
 power of the practised lawyer. He deliberately 
 related his opinions. He demonstrated it with the 
 force of a problem ; and only gradually as he pro- 
 ceeded rose into a more elevated strain, and at 
 length burst forth into enthusiasm that fired every 
 soul. His subject led him to touch upon the na- 
 ture and permanency of the Union. He deepened 
 into feeling and poetry ; splendid passages flashed 
 from him with fiery vehemence, stricken fiercely 
 out by conflict with men who arraigned his politi- 
 cal opinions, shocked his associations of country, 
 and approached, with the brand lighted and raised, 
 to fire the temple of American glory. Nothing 
 could be more dazzling than his deep and strong
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 171 
 
 pictures. They should be hung up before every 
 eye. He was triumphant and irresistible. He 
 bore down all before him : not only the heart of 
 his auditors, but of all the country, of every lover 
 of freedom and humanity throughout the globe, 
 seemed swelling in his bosom and thundering 
 from his lips. One might have imagined that the 
 spirits of Washington and Hamilton, of Jefferson 
 and Franklin, of a whole crowd of the departed 
 heroes and statesmen of the republic, were lean- 
 ing from the walls and cheering him on. For 
 several hours he calmly and forcibly assailed the 
 bill introduced by Mr. B , which had occa- 
 sioned so much excitement in the public mind. It 
 was seen by the friends of the measure that he 
 was no common assailant. His powerful and 
 heavy appeals were deeply felt in the quarter 
 where they were directed; like the blows of a 
 battle-axe wielded by the arm of a giant, while 
 the gates shook and the fortress trembled to its 
 base. He resembled the black knight at the storm- 
 ing of Front de Boeuf's castle, whose ponderous 
 and fatal strokes were heard above all the din of 
 the battle. At length he rested the work seemed 
 
 done ; when his mortal opponent Mr. B 
 
 sprang suddenly on the floor with an eagerness 
 which showed very plainly that it was not done. 
 The auditors who had been sitting, standing, 
 stretching some hanging by a toe to a chair, 
 some leaning on a shoulder against a pillar, sqeez- 
 ing, squeezed, and distorted into all sorts of un- 
 natural and distressing attitudes and situations 
 
 prepared to go. At the sight of Mr. B 's tall, 
 
 peculiar, and commanding person, at the sound of 
 his low deep voice, at the thoughts of his known 
 genius, and the anticipation of the reply which 
 appeared to have been some time burning in his 
 bosom, the motion of the crowd was checked.
 
 172 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 The relaxed toe was again braced the relieved 
 shoulder again put in requisition the fatigued ear 
 once more erect the fair neck stretched the seal 
 of silence again set upon the pretty mouths. Every 
 thing again was still and unmoving. His qualifica- 
 tions were numerous and of nearly the highest 
 kind, both physical and mental. A fountain of 
 fervid feeling at his heart enabled him to inspire, 
 to enchant threw his hearers off their guard by 
 sudden and passionate appeals to the poetry of 
 their natures an ever-ready and lavish flow of 
 words furnished a vehicle which never failed. He 
 had all the poetry of thought, aided by all the art 
 and melody of language. His sentences fell on the 
 ear and the heart, at once gratifying the intellect 
 and rousing the soul ; and often, after a burst of 
 eloquence, which rolled over the heads of the 
 crowd, leaving a deep silence, like that which sue- 
 ceeds thunder, his voice was lulled to a low sweet 
 tone, his vehement manner was softened, and his 
 words 
 
 " Drew audience and attention still as night, 
 Or summer's noontide air." 
 
 A deep and powerful voice was one of Mr. 
 
 B 's peculiarities. It was at times what opera 
 
 goers call a sweet bass, and was heard distinctly 
 in every modulation. Indeed, in any stranger it 
 would have been by itself all-sufficient to arrest 
 every ear. His pronunciation was also of a singu- 
 lar kind, and will never be forgotten by those in 
 whose minds it was associated with his eloquence. 
 His face and head were more peculiar than all. 
 No one would call them handsome. Did they be- 
 long to anybody else to a lower intellect to an 
 obscurer man they might induce the opposite 
 term. But he who has stood all day on one leg to 
 listen, who has felt his seducing poetry steal into
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 173 
 
 the soul, and his voice bursting on his ear like a 
 war-trumpet, till the blood now mounted to the 
 temple, then left the cheek colourless, till the flesh 
 creeped upon his shoulder, and the heart leaped in 
 his bosom, will never hear a pronunciation, or see 
 
 a head, or a face, or an expression like B 's 
 
 without peculiar pleasure. His countenance was 
 rugged and rough-hewn. None of the smooth- 
 ness of youth, and health, and simple content was 
 there ; on the contrary, it was marked with time, 
 thought, and care. He resembled one of Milton's 
 great orators 
 
 " Deep on his front engraven, 
 Deliberation sat and public care ; 
 And princely counsel in his face yet shone, 
 Majestic though in ruin." 
 
 While they under his influence confessed he was 
 not handsome, they at the same time felt that the 
 beauty of Apollo would detract from his identity, 
 and diminish the interest with which he was then 
 regarded. There were times when the expression 
 of his face was nearly savage. His eyes glared 
 and flashed, and his glances fell on his opponent 
 with the fierceness of a tiger. 
 
 But with all this power he failed. The bill, so 
 heavily opposed by Mr. Leslie, it was understood, 
 as subsequently proved the case, would not pass. 
 That day elevated Mordauht Leslie yet higher in 
 the public opinion ; advanced him yet nearer the 
 ultimate object of his ambition. 
 
 As Howard passed home from the inspiring con- 
 flict, he heard from many a lip words of praise 
 and prophecy linked with the name of the father 
 of his affianced bride, that roused in his young 
 imagination many a dream of honour and happi- 
 ness. 
 
 P2
 
 174 NORMAN LESLSE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A new Link in the Chain. 
 
 ; By Astaroth ! ere long thou shall lament 
 These braveries." 
 
 Samson Agomttes. 
 
 SEVERAL months elapsed. Leslie recovered 
 from his wounds, but was still pale, when acci- 
 dent brought to his ear the atrocious slander cir- 
 culated against him. The same charge of gam- 
 bling and dishonesty at cards, magnified by other 
 insinuations urged by Clairmont at Washington, 
 in the hearing of Miss Temple, had been subse- 
 quently reiterated, and at last began' to gain credit. 
 So popular was the count, that his ill word was 
 sufficient to inflict a serious injury. Not that any 
 one who knew Leslie lent it an ear but one is not 
 known even by all one's acquaintance ; and there 
 is a large class always ready, not only to believe 
 calumnies, but to speed them on their way with a 
 secret and eager hand. The affair burst upon 
 Leslie suddenly. He happened to be one day in 
 company with a number of ladies and gentlemen, 
 among whom was Miss Romain. He had just in- 
 vited the young lady to ride with him on the sub- 
 sequent day. 
 
 " Do you know, Leslie," said Moreland, a few 
 moments afterward, " I this morning heard of a 
 most extraordinary allegation against you from the 
 lips of this same Miss Romain whom you are so 
 civil to."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 175 
 
 " Allegation ! name it." 
 
 Moreland repeated, though rather incoherently, 
 as he had not distinctly understood it, what Miss 
 Romain was said to have spoken. It referred to 
 a certain mysterious incident at cards reported to 
 have been charged upon Mr. Leslie, and never to 
 have been refuted, or even noticed. 
 
 " Take care," continued Moreland, " of that beau- 
 tiful syren she is really dangerous ; she flatters 
 you in your presence, and loves to behold you in 
 her train, but makes free with your name the 
 moment you withdraw." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Norman, gravely. 
 
 " It was my intention," said Moreland, " to let 
 you know the moment I ascertained precisely the 
 nature of this report. You should know it, not 
 only that you may refute it, but that you may 
 hereafter beware of her. I will endeavour to dis- 
 cover at once its precise nature." 
 
 " When will you see me ?" 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " This bodes trouble," said Norman, as if forget- 
 ting that he was not alone. 
 
 The next morning Moreland called on Leslie, 
 and made him acquainted with the particulars of 
 the calumny. He had also traced it directly to 
 Clairmont. Miss Romain was ascertained to have 
 been more wantonly mischievous than could have 
 been supposed. Whether she really believed it, 
 or whether she was stung by jealousy at finding 
 that Norman had totally laid aside the character 
 of her lover, it was certain that to the charge in 
 question she had given a most marked emphasis. 
 
 " And will you still ride with her," demanded 
 Moreland. "after such a singular evidence of her 
 disposition ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Norman, dryly <! I have already 
 invited her to accompany me this afternoon, and
 
 176 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 I will not retreat. It is too tempting an opportu- 
 nity to let her know my surprise. From this time, 
 however, she shall learn how utterly a friend may 
 be thrown away. As for Clairmont, he is a scoun- 
 drel ; I shall publicly chastise him the instant we 
 meet. The thing is scarcely worth noticing, but 
 the manner in which this man is received here 
 gives his words an importance which they would 
 not otherwise deserve." 
 
 At four he called for Miss Remain according to 
 appointment. 
 
 The next morning Clairmont stood on the steps 
 of his hotel in Broadway, surrounded by a num- 
 ber of gentlemen. He was in a riding-dress, with 
 whip and spurs ; and after a careless leave of his 
 companions, was in the act of mounting his horse. 
 At that moment Leslie approached, and the two 
 enemies stood face to face. Clairmont turned a 
 little pale upon the sight of one he had so deeply 
 wronged advancing with determined step and air 
 and contracted brow, whose meaning could not be 
 mistaken. A small circle of spectators closed around 
 them. The accusation of Clairmont had been pub- 
 licly made during Leslie's illness, and his great skill 
 with the pistol was known. The resolution, the 
 high-wrought temper, and lofty character of Leslie 
 were also well understood, and the interview was 
 regarded with strong signs of interest. The no- 
 bleman paused, with a glistening eye, and a shade 
 of white increasing on his lip. Leslie's air was 
 high and stern, but calm and noble. As the two 
 thus stood, their prominent characteristics might be 
 detected in their very appearance: the one so 
 frank, fearlessly open-hearted, and yet so quietly 
 resolved ; the other, deep, malignant, and danger- 
 ous the one frowning with the fiery firmness of a
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 177 
 
 lion ; the spirit of the other coiled up with the 
 stillness of a snake which lifts its crest against the 
 foot that would crush it in the grass. 
 
 " I have been given to understand," said Leslie, 
 very composedly, " that you, sir, who call yourself 
 Count Clairmont, have made use of certain ex- 
 pressions derogatory to my character." 
 
 " Well, sir." 
 
 " Your silence implies assent. I give you one 
 moment to deny them to confess them wilful, 
 base falsehoods." 
 
 ",Mr. Leslie," said Clairmont, " if you are a gen- 
 tleman you have a remedy." 
 
 " I have once told you the only terms on which 
 I will consent to meet you. Though I believe you 
 no gentleman, yet my belief of your cowardice at 
 heart is so strong that I again dare you to accede 
 to them. Those terms, gentlemen " 
 
 But the wary Clairmont, with great cunning, had 
 already adopted his plan : it was his object to 
 escape even hearing terms which most probably 
 he might not be anxious to accept, but if possible 
 to provoke Leslie to attack him on the spot. Ac- 
 cordingly, first placing a hand in his bosom, he 
 interrupted the speaker 
 
 " Mr. Leslie," he said, " you desire to know 
 whether the assertions to which you allude were 
 made by me, and whether they are persisted in. 
 Know, that I never speak that in a man's absence 
 which I fear to repeat in his presence. I avow, 
 then, that I detected you in such a trick at cards 
 as ought to, and must exclude you for ever from 
 the society of gentlemen." 
 
 Without further reply, Leslie stepped forward, 
 and at the same moment produced from behind 
 him a riding-whip, with the evident intention of 
 applying it to immediate use. 
 
 Pale, but with the most determined and delibe-
 
 178 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 rate composure, Clairmont drew forth a pistol, 
 which he coolly cocked. 
 
 NO no, sir." he said, in a low tone " I am on 
 my guard now the attacks of a ruffian I am 
 taught how to meet. Take care, sir take care 
 approach me not one step, one inch, one mo- 
 tion, and I swear by the God of heaven I lay you 
 dead at my feet !" 
 
 Leslie paused Clairmont smiled the crisis 
 was interesting, and considerable curiosity pre- 
 vailed to witness the event. But the inactivity of 
 Leslie was only momentary. With a leap, swift 
 as the tiger when he darts upon a startled steed, 
 he sprang to the throat of his foe. The pistol was 
 discharged ; but so rapid and unexpected had been 
 the assault, that the aim, never before known 
 to miss, now failed at the moment of utmost 
 need. The ball passed through the lapel of Nor- 
 man's coat ; and the baffled possessor of a now 
 useless weapon had thrown away his sole chance, 
 and with it the sympathies of every spectator. 
 Unarmed of a livid whiteness he stood in mute 
 and impotent hate ; first, aghast with the certainty 
 that he had launched the death-bolt, and afterward, 
 to find himself utterly in the power of a man so 
 deeply resolute and indignant, and against whom 
 he had just given such a dire evidence of malice. 
 
 " I shall now proceed," said Leslie, without ex- 
 hibiting the slightest astonishment or alarm, but 
 layingVn iron hand on the bosom of his foe, " to 
 inflict upon you, my friend, the chastisement you so 
 richly merit. You are a coward you are an im- 
 postor you are guilty of the baseness which your 
 rancorous tongue has charged on me you have 
 swindled at cards and you, to the best of my ob- 
 servation, stole stole, Count Clairmont, the valu- 
 able diamond ring of Miss Morton. Hereafter, sir 
 count, never show your face in the society of gen-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 179 
 
 tlemen ; but, lest you should, I mark you for what 
 you are a craven and a scoundrel !" 
 
 He raised the whip. 
 
 " Leslie," said Clairmont, almost inaudibly, " do 
 not -do not, for your own sake, mark me I warn 
 I warn you, Leslie do not " 
 
 Rage, fear, and intense emotion had so trans- 
 formed his countenance, that, with his ashy face, 
 and a ring of black beneath each eye, he looked 
 more like a devil than a man. 
 
 " Carry your warnings, sir, to those who regard 
 them," said Leslie. 
 
 Deliberately, and with a powerful hold on his 
 throat, he applied the long whip to his writhing 
 and quivering foe with all the strength which his 
 athletic and indignant arm could command. No 
 one interfered. For several minutes the deter- 
 mined youth continued the application of his 
 blows, till, foaming at the mouth, covered with 
 dust, struggling, trembling, and ever and anon 
 uttering a half-suffocated groan of anguish and 
 revenge, his exhausted victim hung, with drooping 
 body and unbraced limbs, apparently senseless on 
 his arm. 
 
 " I have castigated this man, gentlemen," said 
 Leslie, with a voice actually gentle in its tone so 
 calm is true passion " I have castigated this man 
 for no ordinary personal pique, no mere common 
 hatred. I hold him up to you. not only for a swin- 
 dler and a scoundrel I have good reason to be- 
 lieve him a midnight assassin" 
 
 In the scuffle Glair mont's hat had fallen his 
 valet now appearing, picked it up, and lent an arm 
 to the support of his master, who, finding himself 
 released, lifted his head, gazed wildly around, 
 gnashed his teeth, half incoherently uttered, 
 " God ! oh God !" and striking his face deliriously 
 with his hands, rushed mad and foaming into the 
 hotel.
 
 180 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The Plot opens. 
 
 " Old men and beldams, in the streets 
 Do prophesy upon it dangerously ; 
 Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths ; 
 And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, 
 And whisper one another in the ear : 
 And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist ; 
 While he that hears makes fearful action, 
 With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes." 
 
 King John. 
 
 THE Americans are called great travellers. 
 They early imbibe the taste in their own country ; 
 whose extent and innumerable beauties may well 
 lure mutual visiters from her remotest parts. At 
 present, too, the facilities for travel afe so extraor- 
 dinary, that it would be madness to stay at home. 
 If the country is gigantic, so are its curiosities so 
 are the means of viewing them. The springs, the 
 falls, the lakes, the rivers, the mountains, Quebec 
 and her fortifications (a tour to the Canadas, by- 
 the-way, in the abrupt transition of manners and 
 customs, is, to an American, very like a tour to 
 Europe), the stupendous mountain-scenery in New* 
 York and New-England, where nature may be 
 viewed in all her sublime and awful grandeur. 
 European scenery is different from that of America, 
 but not more strikingly magnificent ; and the tour- 
 ist of the Western Continent let itinerant scrib- 
 blers say what they will finds accommodations,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 181 
 
 honesty, and comfort infinitely superior to 
 that met with on the great continental routes of 
 Europe. In the commercial cities they may com- 
 mand luxuries and refinements equal to those of 
 Paris and London ; railroads, canals, and steam- 
 boats convey them in every direction. During the 
 months of August and September these tempta- 
 tions are found irresistible by the fashionable world, 
 who take wing from the dusty town, and sweep in 
 gay flocks through scenery splendid beyond de- 
 scription. Less than twelve hours suffice to land 
 the passengers at Albany from New- York, a dis- 
 tance of one hundred and sixty miles ; thence, a 
 succession of dazzling views attracts each votary 
 of health and pleasure : and when he has been 
 drenched by the terrible Niagara, floated on the 
 St. Lawrence, wandered by Lake George, mused 
 in the natural amphitheatre of Trenton Falls, 
 soared to the Pine Mountain House, on the Cats- 
 kill where, from the edge of a precipice three 
 thousand feet perpendicular, he looks down upon 
 the lower earth, hills and vales, towns and forests, 
 and the broad and glorious Hudson, meandering on 
 its course of light like a silver snake ; when these 
 excursions are over, the beau ton and the beaux 
 esprits rest their pinions a few weeks at the Sara- 
 toga Springs, about thirty-six miles above Albany. 
 Perhaps there is no spot which gathers a greater 
 focus of beauty, fashion, wealth, and genius than 
 Congress Hall. 
 
 After all, the greatest amusement of those who 
 abandon a city is, to watch for and devour every 
 item of intelligence from their deserted homes. 
 
 A party of ladies and gentlemen were seated on 
 the long portico one day, when Judge Howard re- 
 ceived a package of papers. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Hamilton, " we shall hear 
 from town again, at last. They say Americans 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 182 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 are fond of news ; I do not think it peculiar to 
 them, but to human nature. I never received a 
 letter in my life without trembling ; and a news- 
 paper, when far from home, is really an agitation." 
 
 " Let us share the benefit of your courier, judge," 
 said a wealthy southern planter, as the judge un- 
 folded one of the sheets. 
 
 " Oh dear, yes ; a newspaper is as good as a 
 play !" exclaimed Miss Morton. 
 
 " Well, then, let us see, let us see," said the judge, 
 passing his finger over his lip as he ran through 
 the contents ; " we must select for the ladies. 
 Here is a long report from the Secretary of the 
 Navy." 
 
 "Oh, never mind the navy," cried Miss Morton, 
 
 " Well, then, we have an inquiry into the effects 
 of the late rise of cotton." 
 
 " Worse and worse !" 
 
 " Fire, and lives lost ; a fireman killed." 
 
 " Oh, poor fellow ! Where was it ?" asked a fop, 
 yawning. 
 
 " Nothing about the theatres ?" demanded Mor- 
 ton. 
 
 " Read the marriages," said his sister. 
 
 " And the deaths," mumbled an old gentleman, 
 who took the waters for his health. 
 
 " Bless me ! bless my soul !" said the judge, in a 
 tone of sudden and extreme interest. 
 
 " Oh, now we shall have it !" said several, laugh- 
 ing ; " out with it, judge." 
 
 "Good Heaven !" exclaimed the kind old gentle- 
 man, with real distress. 
 
 " Oh, judge, how can you keep us all in the dark, 
 in this way !" said Mrs. Hamilton. 
 
 The judge read, 
 
 " ' Most mysterious and terrible incident.' " 
 
 " Dear me !" cried one, laughing ; " that prom- 
 ises well, indeed."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 183 
 
 * { I was fearful the colonel was going to be stu- 
 pid to-day," said another. 
 
 " ' Our readers are perhaps aware,'" continued the 
 judge, reading, " ' that a most mysterious circum- 
 stance has, within three days, occurred in this city. 
 The daughter of one of our most wealthy and re- 
 spectable townsmen, whose name will probably be 
 too soon before the public, has suddenly disap- 
 peared, under circumstances of the most incredible 
 and inexplicable mystery ; leading to the conjec- 
 ture that death has closed her career on earth. 
 She was young, of most excelling beauty, and dis- 
 tinguished in the higher circles as one of the most 
 remarkable and charming ladies of the day. We 
 cannot add more at present.' " 
 
 " Well, that is extraordinary and mysterious 
 enough," said one ; " what can it mean ?" 
 
 " Who can it be ?" added another. 
 
 * There is a postscript," said the judge ; and the 
 extremes! interest was now exhibited to learn if it 
 conveyed more information upon the affair. 
 
 " Yes, here is a second paragraph," and he read 
 the following : 
 
 " Since the above was in type, it has become our 
 painful duty to state, that the name of the young 
 lady alluded to above, as having so mysteriously 
 disappeared, is Miss Rosalie Remain. A commit- 
 tee of investigation, immediately formed, have fully 
 sanctioned the general opinion that she must have 
 been murdered. The liveliest, nay, the deepest 
 sensation prevails through all circles upon this sub- 
 ject ; which, perhaps, for intense interest, is without 
 a parallel in the history of our country or age. 
 Dark suspicions are entertained respecting an indi- 
 vidual attached to a most distinguished family. 
 We withhold the name, partly because, however 
 Joud and deep may be the public suspicion, no tri- 
 bunal of justice has, as yet, taken any step to war-
 
 184 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 rant them. Nothing has been spoken of to-day 
 but this most singular and terrible event. The 
 police are on the track, and, it is said, have made 
 discoveries of a most appalling description ; tend- 
 ing to confirm the worst conjectures, and to fix the 
 odium on one wealthy, high, and hitherto unsus- 
 pected. This is an event of peculiar interest. Its 
 awful mystery the agonizing circumstances by 
 which it has been marked the extreme youth, 
 beauty, and innocence of the guileless victim the 
 anguish of the bereaved and broken-hearted pa- 
 rent the rank of him to whom the public finger 
 points as the murderer the great respect in which 
 his family have been held all tend to create violent 
 excitement. We never saw the public mind in a 
 greater ferment. From the lofty political standing of 
 the father of the accused (at least accused by the 
 general voice), in any other country he would pos- 
 sess power among those before whom this question 
 will be probably tried ; and if the criminal were 
 guilty beyond a doubt, yet, with his influence, he 
 would find means to escape. Let the admiring 
 world now look on the administration of justice in a 
 republic. Let them see the laws enforced with 
 equal severity and promptitude against the rich 
 and poor the strong and weak the high and low. 
 We would not forestall the opinions of those who 
 are yet undecided what to think ; nor do we take 
 it upon ourselves to say that he who has been se- 
 lected as the perpetrator is really guilty ; but if he 
 be guilty, there is no possibility of his escape. Let 
 every apprehension be quelled. If he were the 
 head of our nation, on this proof he would be 
 tried an impartial jury would decide upon his in- 
 nocence ; and if a verdict be pronounced against 
 him, he must die the death of a felon.' " 
 
 The utmost contrariety of opinion prevailed as 
 to the person against whom these terrible inuendoes
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 185 
 
 were directed; but an arrival from the city brought 
 the fearful intelligence in all its blistering and naked 
 details. It struck the gay circle with a feeling of 
 dismay and horror. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The Tempest gathers. 
 
 " Can this be haughty Marmion ?" SCOTT. 
 
 As the last peal of St. Paul's Church, on a morn- 
 ing in the early part of autumn, about this period 
 of our story, announced the hour of nine, the usually 
 desultory occupants of Broadway and Chatham- 
 street gradually gave place to a more eager and uni- 
 form crowd ; and hundreds of persons appeared 
 hastening with quickened step out of the adjoining 
 streets, and bending their course towards the pretty 
 and palace-like looking building which lifted its white 
 front in the centre of the Park. Two large and 
 sombre structures, on either side of the just-men- 
 tioned edifice, obtruded themselves on the gaze ; 
 and, from their gloomy appearance, might be re- 
 cognised at once as dismal abodes of guilt. Few, 
 in a philosophical and disinterested mood, can be- 
 hold a prison without feeling that their horror of 
 the crime yields for the moment to compassion for 
 the criminals : it is the dreary tomb of so many a 
 hope ; within its walls have been endured such 
 nameless and unimaginable anguish. The enlight- 
 ened tenderness of modern legislation prohibits the 
 wheel, the rack, or death in darkness and solitude, 
 by the cord, the axe, the dagger, or the bowl ; yet 
 Q 2
 
 186 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 here the wretched, whose guilt is sometimes the 
 infirmity of nature, and sometimes the error of ed- 
 ucation, have writhed under the prolonged torments 
 of remorse and fear : and what are the axe and 
 the wheel to them ? The massy portals, too, may 
 nay when we consider the mischances of human 
 affairs, must have sometimes closed upon the in- 
 nocent, and returned them to the scaffold, or dis- 
 gorged them upon a world whose unthinking self- 
 ishness as often pursues unfortunate virtue, as it 
 sanctions for a time the triumphs of successful 
 guilt. Even the sight of vice itself, thus baffled and 
 chained, without the support of hope or the conso- 
 lations of conscience, shrinking from the aspect of 
 an external world, all threatening and dark, to the 
 communion of a heart lost in the turbulence of yet 
 more gloomy horror, and awaiting, in impotent and 
 illimitable despair, its dismissal from a dreadful ex- 
 istence to a state yet more thrillingly appalling, is, 
 perhaps, of all spectacles the most fearful and 
 ghastly. 
 
 The black and revolting buildings, so conspicu- 
 ously placed in the heart and gay centre of the 
 city, had long jarred upon the minds of the inhab- 
 itants ; and one, indeed, at the present day, under 
 the wand of some cunning architect, has assumed a 
 more lively and lovely shape, and been converted 
 to other purposes ; but at the time of which we ; 
 write, the authorities found a certain appropriate- \ 
 ness in their pr&ximity to their graceful neighbour, in 
 The latter is familiar to the New-York reader as j 
 the City Hall, the seat of many public offices, but f 
 particularly of the courts of justice ; and at that 
 time both the civil and criminal courts were held 
 within it. The black and ugly buildings which 
 flanked it on either side were used, the one for a 
 jail, where, with the stupid and useless cruelty of a 
 pagan sacrifice, the unfortunate debtor was con-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 187 
 
 demned to perpetual idleness and Wo ; while that 
 one on the west received the criminals against the 
 State, who there awaited their arraignment or their 
 execution, within a minute's walk of their place of 
 trial. 
 
 On the present day, the avidity with which all 
 classes hastened towards the City Hall rendered 
 it evident that it was about to become the scene of 
 some interesting judicial proceeding ; and the 
 pressure to procure seats in the criminal court- 
 room proved that the circumstances of some dark 
 crime were about to be investigated ; probably 
 some reckless enemy to society exposed to general 
 execration, and consigned to just punishment, per- 
 haps a weary and toilsome imprisonment perhaps 
 to death. It has been long a custom in America, 
 as in England, to conduct the convict condemned 
 to expiate his crime on the scaffold, in broad day- 
 light, and in full view of the people, to some open 
 spot in the suburbs of the town, affording space 
 for the accommodation of the immense multitude 
 generally drawn together by the occasion ; and 
 thus, with the deliberate pomp of law, and the 
 solemn ceremonies of religion, to consummate upon 
 the bound and trembling wretch the tremendous 
 doom. After all, the spirit which drew the Ro- 
 mans to the amphitheatre still holds its place in the 
 human breast. Far, very far, are we yet from 
 true civilization. 
 
 Few crimes in the United States are visited with 
 the punishment of death ; and, while older nations 
 often launch the bolt against the feeble head of ig- 
 norance or poverty for the most trivial errors of 
 judgment, or sometimes for the cravings of hunger, 
 let it be recorded to the honour of American legis- 
 lators, that the power which society has lodged in 
 their hands is wielded with more caution. 
 
 But in proportion to the infrequency of these
 
 188 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 spectacles is the excitement they produce. The 
 guilty wretch, arrested on a charge of murder, and 
 thrown into prison to await his trial, becomes at 
 once a topic of universal and, among the lower 
 orders, of intense interest. To feed this appetite 
 for scenes of carnage, blood, and distress the pe- 
 culiar attribute of human nature the public press 
 is prolific of facts, true or false; and in all their har- 
 rowing features, and too often with the exaggera- 
 tion of accident, prejudice, or passion, retail the in- 
 cidents of the deed, and conjecture the motives of 
 the perpetrator. 
 
 It was on the event of one of these long-ex- 
 pected trials that an immense crowd assembled. 
 Such violent anxiety had been produced by ru- 
 mour, and the recitals of the public journals, that 
 before the doors of the court-room were thrown 
 open, large throngs had collected on the outside, 
 and, pressing for entrance, filled the avenues and 
 corridors to overflowing. At an early hour, when 
 the public were admitted, the spacious chamber 
 was immediately crowded almost to suffocation. 
 The space within the bar, usually allotted only to 
 gentlemen of the profession, witnesses, jurors in at- 
 tendance, and persons connected with the proceed- 
 ings of the hour, was also densely filled ; and 
 when the judges assumed their seats, and the cry 
 of " Silence hats off!" announced that the ^court 
 were about to enter upon the interesting examina- 
 tion, the multitude presented a slope of heads, back 
 to the farthest reach of the ample hall, such as had 
 rarely before been assembled in the apartment. 
 
 Among the individuals within the bar were sev- 
 eral who drew peculiar attention and remark from 
 the auditory. The entrance of Mr. Barton, the 
 district attorney, occasioned some interest. He 
 was a young but distinguished and eloquent man, 
 celebrated for the force and fire of his appeals, and
 
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 189 
 
 whose powers were said to be rarely awakened in 
 vain. With him came his associate, Mr. Germain, 
 also a profound, sagacious, and eminent counsellor, 
 employed, it was said, by those whom the prisoner's 
 crime had most bereaved, to render his destruction 
 doubly sure. A more dangerous opponent could 
 scarcely have appeared against the unhappy object 
 of all this solicitude ; for, a shrewd and practised 
 lawyer, watchful to avail himself of every accident 
 and subterfuge, skilful to lead away attention from 
 a bad point, or to invent a construction favourable 
 to his views of a deep foresight, an insidious cun- 
 ning, a ready wit, and a presence of mind never at 
 fault in the examination of witnesses Germain 
 knew well how to rise from a defeat or to press 
 the moment of triumph. In a just cause, his talents 
 and acquirements were always sure of delighting. 
 The wily votary of falsehood, on the witness' stand, 
 found his mask torn off, and his arts baffled. Be- 
 trayed by ingenious artifices into the disproval of 
 his own testimony, and bewildered and startled by 
 the clashing contradictions of his own statement, 
 he at length yielded the conflict, abashed and in 
 despair ; confessed the truth, and was dismissed, 
 writhing under the lash of ridicule and rebuke. 
 
 But the same power, exerted on the wrong side, 
 was equally fierce, watchful, and uncompromising ; 
 and it must be allowed that the eager lawyer, ab- 
 sorbed in the excitement of his cause, did not 
 always stop to inquire into its justice, but used the 
 same weapons alike on all occasions ; bewildered 
 the honest witness in wiles laid for the deceitful, 
 and frequently woke all his energies to attack the 
 innocent or defend the guilty. By their side sat 
 Mr. Loring, also one of the most remarkable coun- 
 sellors of the day ; grave, learned, and eloquent ; 
 his fine head, partly bald, was expressively clothed 
 with the " silver livery of advised age." He was 
 the only one who as yet appeared for the defence.
 
 180 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 The three counsel conversed together across the 
 table with the cool courtesy of the profession ; 
 who, while property, reputation, and life are com- 
 mitted to their hands with trembling solicitude, find 
 the exercise of their respective powers but the 
 struggle of a game which, however tremendously 
 important to the parties concerned, is by them 
 played with but transient personal feeling, and to- 
 morrow forgotten. 
 
 A gentleman of prepossessing form and appear- 
 ance was pointed out to each other by the crowd, 
 with symptoms of curiosity, as a foreigner of high 
 rank and unbounded wealth ; a casual vislter to this 
 country, whom accident had rendered necessary 
 in the present case as one of the witnesses. This 
 was Count Clairmont. Near him, and frequently 
 exchanging the sentiments of a brief conversation, 
 sat a white-headed old man, whose care-worn and 
 grief-stricken countenance was perused by every 
 eye with extreme interest : he was the father of 
 the young and lovely girl whose murder, by a 
 brutal and unparalleled assassin, was the subject of 
 the present indictment. The hearts of the more 
 enlightened upon the circumstances of the case 
 were shocked and agitated with deep and powerful 
 sympathy on recognising, in the tall and noble 
 figure of a gentleman who, though somewhat ad- 
 vanced in life, was erect, and almost haughty in his 
 air the father of the culprit. He stood in a recess 
 within the bar, calm, but pale ; and around him 
 waited, with the most evident marks of respect and 
 commiseration, a train of the most wealthy and 
 distinguished inhabitants of the town. These in- 
 teresting objects had places reserved for them in 
 the midst of the uncommon throng of miscellane- 
 ous individuals lawyers lounging from idleness 
 and curiosity, witnesses and jurors attending on
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 191 
 
 subpoBnas, and law-students inured to scenes of 
 iniquity and distress, who made themselves merry 
 with the various rumours of the case, wagered 
 with each other on the fate of the accused, and ad- 
 vanced jests against the sheriff on his approaching 
 duty. 
 
 The outside of the bar was occupied by the 
 middling classes, sailors, butchers, bakers, and 
 other honest tradesmen and good citizens, whose 
 minds had been highly inflamed by the reports of 
 the case, without being muqh instructed as to its 
 merits ; and who were eagerly anxious to behold 
 the extraordinary ruffian the cold-blooded se- 
 ducer and assassin of an innocent and beautiful girl. 
 Concerning the manners and appearance, the char- 
 acter, family, and demeanour of the accused, the 
 most contradictory rumours were rife. Some de- 
 clared him a ferocious and black-browed giant, 
 with a cruel and malignant countenance, a harsh 
 voice, and relentless heart. Others asserted that 
 he had been the most reckless profligate of the day ; 
 that the influence of a wealthy family had already 
 several times screened him from merited punish- 
 ment ; that he had once or twice nearly effected his 
 escape, by the attempted massacre of the officers 
 who had arrested him ; and that the authorities 
 were obliged to secure his confinement by means 
 of heavy irons. 
 
 A circumstance was observed, too, of a very rare 
 occurrence in this country a disposition among the 
 lower classes to predetermine the guilt of the ac- 
 cused, and to distrust the integrity of the court. 
 Several journals had given publicity to articles 
 darkly intimating the difficulty of finding a jury 
 sufficiently firm and disinterested to render a true 
 verdict against a man acknowledged to belong to 
 so high a circle of society. Some spoke aloud of 
 the power of wealth and influence ; others turned
 
 192 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 the affair into a political question ; and many (for 
 such clamorous demagogues did not pass away 
 with the days of Greece and Rome) openly pro- 
 claimed that, even if the guilty wretch were con- 
 demned by the judge, he would be pardoned by the 
 governor. As the trial-day approached, these dis- 
 turbing influences seemed agitated and fomented 
 by some secret hand. Singular inuendoes lurked 
 iti the paragraphs of the daily journals, engender- 
 ing among the population a fierce and ferocious 
 spirit. The friends of the prisoner beheld, with 
 feelings of the deepest alarm, these clouds gather- 
 ing around the head of one who had hitherto known 
 only the balmy pleasures of life's sunniest hours. 
 The district attorney had moved in the same circle 
 with the accused in the gay precincts of fashion. 
 Would he follow to the death his associate ? The 
 very judge on the bench, it was whispered, loved 
 him like a father, and was endeared to him by fam- 
 ily relations of the most tender nature. Would he 
 too thus murmured the thousands, nay, the mil- 
 lions (for the event had already swept like fire in 
 the wind), who allowed themselves to be excited by 
 the absorbing question would this judge, could 
 he preside at a trial, thus linked with his own feel- 
 ings, with cool and impartial deliberation? 
 
 There were not wanting third and fourth rate 
 journals which grasped the subject with the sole 
 view of rendering it a party question. The father 
 of the unhappy criminal was spoken of at the period 
 for an important office in the gift of the people. 
 So tempting an engine could not remain unworked, 
 and the astounded statesman heard denunciations 
 and anathemas of the most bitter malignity thun- 
 dered against him by those who could oppose his 
 political success with no other means than those 
 furnished by this domestic tragedy. 
 
 On the other hand, a party of his townsmen, and
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 193 
 
 indeed the most discreet and intelligent, while they 
 regarded the indictment with wonder, seemed as- 
 sured that a trial would establish the innocence of 
 the accused. All their sympathies and their fears 
 were now awakened in his behalf, for the public 
 excitement grew more and more dark and threat- 
 ening, and a trial for life and death, even to the 
 innocent, was not without its perils. Accident 
 might incline the scales against him. The very 
 trial itself was a withering anguish ; the very 
 suspicion a gangrene to the heart. 
 
 The public indignation and expressions of dis- 
 trust exercised too upon the interests of the un- 
 happy defendant a most unfavourable influence. 
 Those who really knew Judge Howard, knew that 
 if it had been his own son instead of his friend's, he 
 would construe the law, and preside at the trial, 
 with the sternness of a Roman ; and it was feared 
 that he, as well as the district-attorney, might be 
 insensibly led, by the open charges against their 
 integrity, to pass to the opposite extreme, and 
 suffer impartiality to strengthen into severity. 
 
 In the thousands that filled the room stood 
 waiting on the outside and strove vainly for en- 
 trance what a variety of opposite emotions ! from 
 the simple curiosity of the indifferent stranger, 
 stimulated by the mere desire to behold a human 
 being tried for his life, to the astonishment and 
 anxiety, the conjectures of the future and the 
 memories of the past, felt by his acquaintance, and 
 to the whirl and tempest, the anguish and agony, 
 in the breasts of those who knew and loved him ! 
 Across the minds even of the most rational glanced 
 the thought " Is not the prisoner indeed guilty ?" 
 The very apparent impossibility, by a kind of pa- 
 radox, rendered it probable. What but the glaring 
 and blistering truth of the charge would select 
 him, so far beyond the reach of ordinary suspicion, 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 194 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 as the perpetrator of the deed ? If not he, who was 
 the culprit ? 
 
 Notwithstanding the immense pressure, perfect 
 order prevailed, and all seemed settling themselves 
 in their places, as they best might, like the audi- 
 ence at the commencement of a celebrated tragedy, 
 and with the composed satisfaction of listening to 
 the investigation, and perhaps of soon beholding 
 the doom, of one of the most black, remarkable, 
 and harrowing crimes that had ever occupied the 
 attention of a court of justice. 
 
 " Place the prisoner at the bar !" exclaimed the 
 crier, in a loud voice, at an order from the judge. 
 
 There was an instantaneous sensation percepti- 
 ble through the mass of people, but it immediately 
 subsided into a breathless silence, as the side-doors 
 within the bar were flung open, and the officers 
 entered in front of the crowd with the prisoner be- 
 tween them. An impulse of surprise ran again 
 through the multitude, now also accompanied by 
 an evident murmur of sympathy, elicited by the 
 appearance of a very handsome young man, con- 
 siderably above the middling size, of an erect and 
 commanding form, who, with a firm and rather 
 haughty air, walked to his seat within the prisoner's 
 box. A single glance discovered that he wore the 
 dress and possessed the manners of a gentleman; 
 that his features were mild, intelligent, and uncom- 
 monly prepossessing, but that his face was of a 
 deadly paleness, and his lips compressed with the 
 action of one who is the victim of a powerful and 
 unnatural excitement. 
 
 To many of the spectators he was personally 
 known; and more than one voice murmured, in 
 tones of the deepest commiseration, " Poor, poor 
 Leslie !" 
 
 On entering the box and seating himself, the 
 prisoner looked around, and continued his gaze, as
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 195 
 
 if in search of some one within the bar, till he en- 
 countered the full and terrible glance of Mr. Ro- 
 main, the father of her of whose death he was ac- 
 cused. For a moment he met and returned the 
 fixed gaze of the old man, who actually shook with 
 the tremours of his increasing emotion ; but, as if 
 the forced effort to bear up against his fate and his 
 feelings exceeded his power, the unhappy youth 
 suddenly bowed down his head, and covered his 
 face with his hands. 
 
 The whole scene had been of such absorbing in- 
 terest, that the court, as well as the prisoner and 
 the spectators, appeared for the moment to have 
 abandoned themselves to their feelings, and the 
 young man was the centre of a thousand warm 
 and bleeding sympathies. But the recollection of 
 the heinous deed which he was called upon to an- 
 swer, and the sight of the aged father of the mur- 
 dered girl, awoke sterner thoughts. Nor were 
 there wanting some who ascribed his emotion, not 
 to the anguish of innocence, but to the remorseful 
 agonies of guilt. 
 
 The court immediately ordered silence. The 
 voice of the crier resounded through the hall. 
 The crowd again arranged themselves on their 
 seats ; and though a few handkerchiefs, especi- 
 ally of females, still hid the faces of the softened 
 owners, the cold ceremonials of a legal tribunal at 
 once resumed their course. 
 
 With the numerous and tedious formalities pre- 
 liminary to a great trial, incidental to the empan- 
 nelling of a jury, &c., we will not detain the reader. 
 They were, on this occasion, so multifarious and 
 prolonged that, upon their final arrangement, the 
 court dismissed the cause for the day, in order that 
 it might be fairly commenced on the succeeding 
 morning. The persons concerned were requested 
 to be punctual in an early attendance ; and the
 
 196 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 vast and heterogeneous crowd separated, to carry 
 into all quarters of the town their new impres- 
 sions concerning the appearance of the unhappy 
 prisoner, who, thus fearfully suspended over eter- 
 nity, was remanded back to prison. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Adversity acquaints a Man with strange Fellows A Friend 
 wavers. 
 
 " And you, too, Brutus !" 
 
 THE Bridewell, in which malefactors were con- 
 fined, from its open and central situation, com- 
 manded one of the most cheerful scenes imagina- 
 ble. The barred windows of the prisoners enabled 
 them to behold the pleasing enclosure already men- 
 tioned, spread verdantly beneath them, overshad- 
 owed with rows of trees a common thoroughfare 
 for the busy citizens, a lounge for the meditative 
 or the idle, and a resort for children, who there 
 pursued their careless sports, yet happily ignorant 
 of the dark world around them. A part of the 
 gay and elegant Broadway rolled along its never- 
 ceasing tide of human beings. The spire of St. 
 Paul's Church appeared at a short distance above 
 clumps of thick foliage ; and, on the other side, to 
 the poor captives a shocking contrast, rose the 
 theatre, whose moving crowds and bright lights 
 in the evening rendered it easily distinguishable 
 as the haunt of fashion and pleasure. 
 
 One of those reverses of fortune which, however 
 astounding to the individual victims, are common-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 197 
 
 place to the general observer of human nature, 
 had plunged Norman Leslie the proud, the sen- 
 timental, the musing, the noble Leslie into the 
 common prison, upon a charge of murder. The 
 crime was fixed upon him by such a concurrence 
 of glaring and extraordinary facts, that each day 
 had found more and more people ready to believe 
 him guilty. Had any one in other times suggested 
 the probability of his committing such a deed, they 
 who knew him would have ascribed the suggestion 
 to madness or malice ; but now that he was actu- 
 ally accused in public, it appeared much less im- 
 probable. His high temper, his brooding mind, 
 were well known. Eccentricities had been re- 
 membered of him, which before had never excited 
 attention ; and even those who had most depended 
 upon his purity of character, now found in him a 
 new illustration of the truth, that " It is not a year 
 or so that shows a man." Covered with obloquy, 
 execrated by the public, Norman Leslie sat in a 
 lonely apartment of the prison above described, 
 on the afternoon of the day of his arraignment, 
 gazing upon the outward scene of joy and freedom. 
 His meditations were suddenly interrupted by the 
 clash and clank of chains, the springing of locks, 
 and the withdrawal of bolts. The intruder was 
 the keeper. 
 
 " There has been here," he said, " the Rev. Mr. 
 Harcourt, sir ; and he requested me to to " 
 
 " I do not know him," said Norman ; " it must 
 be a mistake." 
 
 " No mistake at all, sir. He came to request 
 your leave to visit you, to converse with you." 
 
 " With me !" said Norman, as if endeavouring to 
 recollect himself; "upon what subject?" 
 
 " Lord, lord, sir !" said the man, apparently un- 
 able to conceal a smile, " I thought by this time 
 
 R2
 
 198 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 you might wish to see gentlemen of his cloth with- 
 out any request from them." 
 
 " God of heaven !" cried Leslie, starting up, so 
 that the man stepped back in some alarm, and 
 lifted his heavy bunch of keys in defence ; but, 
 perceiving that the abrupt action of his prisoner 
 was simply the effect of agitation and astonish- 
 ment, he resumed his first manner. 
 
 " Why, yes, sir. He bade me ask you, in short, 
 if you felt yourself in a state of mind to speak 
 with him upon your situation." 
 
 The rattling of the heavy chain appropriately 
 hung at the outer door of the prison, to signify to 
 the keeper the wish of some applicant for admis- 
 sion, broke off the discourse. 
 
 The new comer was Mr. Grey, a counsellor, be- 
 longing to the lower ranks of the profession. He 
 motioned the keeper to withdraw. When they 
 were alone, he approached his seat close to that of 
 Norman, and looking around cautiously, said, 
 
 " You do not know me, Mr. Leslie ?" 
 
 " I have had the pleasure, I think," replied Nor- 
 man, "of seeing you before in the courts. You 
 are Mr. Grey ?" 
 
 " Ah ! that is well ; if you know me," said Mr. 
 Grey ; " we shall have less difficulty in coming to 
 an understanding." 
 
 He passed the palm of his hand across his 
 mouth, as if preparing to open a discourse in the 
 commencement of which he experienced some 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " You are aware, then, Mr. Leslie, that you stand 
 indicted for " 
 
 The listener raised his hand with deprecatory 
 gesture 
 
 "Spare me the repetition of that word." 
 
 " But you are not fully aware of the evidence 
 accumulated against you."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 199 
 
 " I shall learn it soon enough," said the youth, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " You do not quite understand me," continued 
 the lawyer, in a conciliatory tone ; "soon enough 
 can only be in time to counteract it." 
 
 " I am in the hands of God," said Norman, with 
 a look that betrayed a heart sick and wearied 
 " He created he can destroy he can rescue 
 me." 
 
 " Ay, ay," answered Mr. Grey, hitching his chair 
 yet a few inches closer, again looking round, as if 
 to assure himself that they were alone, and re- 
 ducing his tone to a yet more confidential key 
 " but Providence, my young friend, works by hu- 
 man means. It would be rather dangerous to trust 
 to Him alone in your case. You must have an- 
 other lawyer. His aid may be invoked, but it 
 must be by active exertion, not by idle prayers." 
 
 " What can I do ?" asked the prisoner, with 
 moody calmness; " I am a prisoner; I cannot break 
 through stone walls and iron bars." 
 
 " There is one thing which you can do," cried 
 the lawyer. 
 
 " To free me from this dilemma?" said Norman. 
 
 "Ay, to put you forth as unrestrained as the 
 bird that flies at will." 
 
 "What can I do?" 
 
 " You can confess" said Grey, in a close whisper. 
 
 Norman started again, with lively signs of agita- 
 tion and anger. 
 
 " Am I to understand that you believe me 
 guilty ?" he demanded. 
 
 " Mr. Leslie," said the lawyer, " what you say 
 to me is secret as if whispered only to your own 
 heart. I am not here to accuse, but to defend you. 
 Confess to me as your lawyer, as your friend, that 
 in a moment of wild delirium, perhaps maddened 
 by wine, you perpetrated a deed foreign from
 
 200 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 your nature, which the moment before you did not 
 dream of, and which now you cannot look back 
 upon without regret and horror. It will contribute 
 greatly towards your defence. It may save your 
 life, my young friend, which now stands in immi- 
 nent danger." 
 
 " And what good can my confession do ?" asked 
 Norman, in an under-tone of forced composure. 
 
 " Much, much," cried the wily lawyer. " The 
 sailor who would navigate a dangerous sea must 
 know the quicksands and rocks which lie in his 
 path. To cure a wound and the more loathsome, 
 the more need of examination it must be probed, 
 young man, with a firm and friendly hand, though 
 you shudder and faint under the operation. I am 
 your friend, your pilot, your surgeon. I come to 
 save you. Say you are guilty. The law has its 
 accidents, its shifts, its subterfuges ; the clerk's pen 
 may mistake ; the jury's mind may be embarrassed, 
 if it cannot be satisfied. Embarrassment is doubt, 
 and doubt is acquittal. You are young, life is 
 sweet; sweeter than wealth, power, reputation. 
 You have been under the influence of a moment's 
 temptation; you have been touched with lunacy; 
 you have committed a crime. Well, thousands of 
 
 ?>od men have sinned ; it is the lot of mortals, 
 ou are but a boy yet. You must live and repent. 
 The world is broad. Time heals every wound ; 
 and repentance converts even sin into joy. Dis- 
 miss romantic sensibility. Perhaps you have re- 
 solved to abandon the world, either guilty or inno- 
 cent. If guilty, you imagine death alone can ex- 
 piate your deed ; if innocent, calumny and unjust 
 accusation have at once stripped life of its charms 
 and death of its terrors. Think better of it. Let 
 not the idea of guilt prostrate your moral char- 
 acter too much. It is a physical thing, and de- 
 pends on the nerves and the blood. Any man,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 201 
 
 when the lightning of passion darts through his 
 veins, and when reason reels any man may yield. 
 The very apostle sinned. The saints in heaven 
 have felt the pollution of this earthly evil. It is a 
 fever, a plague ; the best of us may catch it. 
 Come, confess without shame the whole truth. 
 Your life, your reputation commit to my hand. 
 Your father's life, your sister's, their happiness, 
 their fame, are all connected with your fate. You 
 have no right to yield to an unmanly despair. In 
 the sacrifice of yourself, you drag others with you 
 to the altar." 
 
 Norman heard him to the end, as if partly with 
 wonder at the terror of his discourse, and partly 
 with a resolution not to interrupt him ; at length he 
 said, 
 
 " And if I do confess that I deliberately mur- 
 dered that unfortunate girl, goaded by interest and 
 revenge, can you save me ?" 
 
 " While there's life there's hope," said the 
 lawyer. " You have money. Money is a god. It 
 commands the strength, the genius, the knowledge, 
 the souls of men." 
 
 " And how may money stead me in this ex- 
 tremity?" 
 
 " It is to be considered," replied the lawyer 
 " it is to be considered. Have you never a friend, 
 bound to you by obligations, poor and needy, yet 
 honest in the world's eyes, who could confirm a 
 story on oath?" 
 
 Mr. Grey smiled, meaningly, and rubbed his 
 palm over his mouth and cheek. 
 
 " As you say," replied Norman, " 1 have money; 
 but if I procure such a one, can you use him to 
 your purpose ? Can you bend aside the flow of 
 public justice ? Can you leave the blood of the 
 innocent unavenged ? Can you set the guilty 
 free, unannealed, and high among his friends ? If
 
 202 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 I give you money for this redemption from wo, 
 ignominy, and the scaffold, can you effect it ?" 
 
 " Can I ?" said the counsellor, with slow and em- 
 phatic deliberation, and a glance of pleased and 
 sly assent " can I not ?" 
 
 "And will you ?" cried the youth, grasping the 
 arm of his disinterested friend with the iron power 
 of one clinging for life ; " knowing me to be guilty, 
 deeply, damnably guilty, will you ?" 
 
 " To-morrow," said the lawyer, rubbing his 
 hands, " you shall be free as air. I shall but want 
 something to satisfy expenses a hundred dollars 
 or so." 
 
 " And I," said Norman, with a countenance of 
 bitter contempt, and flinging from him, with an ex- 
 pression of disgust, the arm of his cunning adviser, 
 " if I had a thousand lives, would rather lose them 
 all on the scaffold than share in the corruption of 
 such a base scoundrel. Begone, sir ! or I may 
 really be what you, and such as you, think me." 
 
 The astounded personage to whom this was 
 addressed started from his seat with mingled 
 anger and fright, but immediately recovering him- 
 self, said, 
 
 " Your only hope, young man. You are young 
 and romantic. Imprisonment and misfortune have 
 shattered your nerves, and violent repentance, per- 
 haps, inflamed your imagination. If one hundred 
 is too much, say fifty." 
 
 " I would be alone," cried Norman. 
 
 " I may, at least, entreat of you a pledge," said 
 the lawyer, " that what I have offered in kindness 
 will never be betrayed. My only object, sir, I 
 give you my sacred word of honour, was to do 
 you service." 
 
 " You have nothing to fear from me," returned 
 Norman, " if you will take yourself away." 
 
 " Then, farewell. You may have carried my
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 203 
 
 intimations further than I intended, Mr. Leslie ; 
 but, remember, should you think better of my 
 means of serving you, I am ready to do my ut- 
 most. I can save you from death. Without a 
 free understanding between counsellor and client, 
 the case is hopeless. To-morrow you will tremble 
 at the array of proof against you. We may have 
 no opportunity of meeting again in private. Your 
 counsel, at present, have nothing to urge in your 
 defence. I have taken the pains to inquire ; they 
 have literally nothing. Innocent or guilty, die you 
 must, unless you adopt means. In twenty-four 
 hours, perhaps, the verdict may be rendered. As 
 the case stands now, it must be fatal. The form 
 of your own scaffold may well start your reason. 
 I can save you. I am your only hope. Good- 
 morning, sir ; good-morning. I rest satisfied, sir, 
 with your word of honour, that what has passed 
 between us will go no further. Let me leave my 
 card. Good-morning, sir." 
 
 At the door Grey met another learned member 
 of the profession, whose eloquence and talents 
 placed him already in its front ranks. They were 
 but slightly acquainted ; for Mr. Grey belonged to 
 those base pettifoggers and hangers-on of the 
 profession who at once disgrace it and human 
 nature. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Moreland," he said, " are you too bent 
 to this wretched man?" 
 
 Moreland signified the affirmative. 
 
 " A strange fellow !" continued Mr. Grey, with a 
 significant smile ; " guilty, I fear, and reckless of 
 death. He is like a baited bull, ready to gore alike 
 friend and foe." 
 
 " Does he confess ?" asked Moreland, with agi- 
 tation. 
 
 " No," replied the other, " he confesses nothing. 
 He still affects ignorance and perfect innocence,
 
 204 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 assumes the lofty moralist, and vainly hopes with 
 this brazen hypocrisy to elude his fate, or cast a 
 doubt over his crime. His father and sister are 
 evidently dear to him, and rend his thoughts more 
 than his own misery. He seems ready to die, 
 rather than compromise their good name by con- 
 fessing his guilt. He is a noble but a desperate 
 being, and requires watchfulness and care, or he 
 may give the impatient mob the slip after the high 
 Roman fashion." 
 
 Moreland is already partly known to the reader. 
 He differed in many respects from his more aged 
 and experienced associates ; and rather sought ex- 
 cuses for undoubted sin, than invented selfish mo- 
 tives for apparent virtue. As he pictured the 
 cheerful aspect of his own home, which he had 
 that instant left, the elegant gayety ever presid- 
 ing at his domestic circle the innocent love and 
 arch vivacity of his sweet wife, the voices of his 
 beautiful children, and his own bright prospects of 
 future wealth, fame, and happiness, as he com- 
 pared these- blessings with the miseries of his once 
 pure and noble friend, now a prisoner, perhaps 
 about to be sacrificed on the scaffold these dis- 
 mal walls, this desolate cold solitude, and the 
 reflections which must rend the mind of the ac- 
 cused, his heart softened yet more tenderly to- 
 wards him ; he mourned over the bleak vicissitudes 
 of life, and trembled at the inscrutable decrees of 
 Providence. His soul yearned to believe him 
 guiltless ; but such an astounding array of proof 
 had been elicited against him that even he wa- 
 vered, and knew not what to think. 
 
 As the lawyer entered the cell of the captive, he 
 turned actually pale at the sight which met his 
 view. It was not that his friend suffered any of 
 those dismal privations of food, light, and air, so 
 commonly identified with the idea of a prison ;
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 205 
 
 indeed, he occupied a room tolerably furnished for 
 his use ; and the care of his affectionate and heart- 
 broken family had supplied him with all the luxu- 
 ries of life compatible with his situation ; but he 
 himself was so changed and faded so haggard 
 and ghastly with the gnawings of a haughty and 
 proud spirit -that, for the moment, in that dim 
 light, he was scarcely recognised. Still, however, 
 around him gathered that beauty which had ren- 
 dered him remarkable in better days, a reflection 
 of the manly graces of his father, and which now 
 seemed even heightened by the subduing and 
 chastening hand of thought and sorrow. His 
 handsome hair now fell over a forehead which 
 seemed, from its whiteness, yet more broad and 
 high; his eyes wore an expression more pensive 
 and touching ; the smile had gained in winning 
 grace all that it had lost in spirit ; and his whole 
 manner announced a character deepened, purified, 
 and elevated. 
 
 He raised his hand calmly to his friend, who 
 seized it with silent anguish ; and Moreland fell on 
 his neck and wept, while the prisoner soothed and 
 rebuked him, though with a tremulous voice. 
 
 " Dear, dear Norman !*' muttered Moreland, his 
 words broken by sobs ; " pardon me forgive 
 me!" 
 
 "God bless you, Moreland," replied Norman, as 
 his friend grew more composed ; " how I have 
 wished for you !" 
 
 " Your father and Julia, Norman, and How- 
 ard?" 
 
 " They are all with me hours every day, but 
 their grief agonizes me." 
 
 "And your counsel, Mr. Loring?" 
 
 "Oh, he talks to me, but racks and excruciates 
 me also. I have told him I know nothing what- 
 ever of this charge. It must fall by itself; I can- 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 206 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 not stoop to confute it, nor have I the means. But 
 you, Moreland, you will join yourself with Loring, 
 and clear me from so ridiculous, so absurd an ac- 
 cusation ? I have had hard thoughts of you, too," 
 he continued, still holding his friend's hand in his 
 own firmly and affectionately. " That the world 
 at large should desert me, as I am told they do, 
 was to me a theme neither of much grief nor won- 
 der ; but you, Albert, you and Mary !" 
 
 " We were far, far away, and flew to town the 
 very moment we heard of this inexplicable this 
 terrible this " 
 
 " Ay, Albert," said Norman, a cloud darkening 
 over his face, " pause and seek for words, as I have 
 done. But how is Mary ?" 
 
 " Well in health, but shocked, agitated, and 
 thunderstruck at your present situation, and at the 
 startling evidence against you. It is astounding, 
 it is stunning to hear the array of facts ; but Mary 
 would be your defender were they ten thousand 
 times more appalling." 
 
 " And yet confess it, Albert even you have 
 been staggered ?" 
 
 " Norman, I have been stunned ; but I come to 
 you, not only as a friend, but as a counsel. I shall 
 add myself to the gentleman already employed by 
 your father. But, before we proceed, let me ask 
 one question. If any extraordinary circumstance 
 any horrid dilemma any sudden intoxication of 
 love, or passion, or despair, or madness, has hur- 
 ried you to " 
 
 Norman started once more to his feet. It was 
 no longer with agitation. Deep despair had thrown 
 around him a character of mysterious and un- 
 earthly coldness, of passionless solemnity and 
 calmness, like that which invests a statue gazed on 
 by moonlight, in which there is ever a thrilling and 
 spectral power.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 207 
 
 " It is enough !" he said ; " my cup is full. I 
 drink it to the dregs without a murmur. Leave 
 me, Moreland." 
 
 He was obeyed. We shall not intrude upon his 
 meditations. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The Storm increases. 
 
 " They have tied me to the stake, I cannot fly." 
 
 Macbeth: 
 
 THE morning came the hour of trial arrived. 
 The human tide had already rolled into the court- 
 room, and, amid shuffling and pushing, and the 
 frequent interference of the police-officers, and all 
 the agitation and clamour of a mob much excited, 
 the crowd at length once more occupied, not only 
 every seat, but every spot where a foot or a shoul- 
 der could be braced, or a hand could cling. 
 
 The judges assumed their seats ; the jury were 
 called ; silence was ordered by the criers ; the agi- 
 tated mass at length settled into quiet ; the prisoner 
 again entered, and was placed at the bar ; and all 
 the customary forms and preliminaries being at 
 length accomplished, the indictment was regularly 
 read, and the district attorney rose to open the 
 case, and to explain the circumstances which he 
 expected to prove. The public were thus put in 
 possession of all the authentic facts which the 
 industrious investigations of the State attorney had 
 elicited. The speaker's youthful zeal and his pro-
 
 208 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 fessional ambition, the interest which hurries along 
 an ardent lawyer for the time to make the cause 
 of his client his own which warms with its pro- 
 gress and strengthens by opposition, and which at 
 length renders the desire of success an absorbing 
 and exclusive passion, almost resembling the despe- 
 rate anxiety of the gambler combined to inspire 
 him with enthusiastic eloquence. His recital of the 
 circumstances which he hoped to prove was con- 
 ducted with the art of rhetoric, and coloured with 
 the hues of imagination. It was a fearful and 
 soul-stirring narrative, that chilled the blood of the 
 coldest auditor. With what awful force must it 
 have fallen upon the ears of the prisoner ! The 
 orator did not express the wary suggestions of one 
 seeking truth, but the excited and exciting denun* 
 ciations of a mind fully predetermined, and highly 
 inflamed with a mere one-sided view of the case ; 
 placing upon every interest the deepest and guilti- 
 est construction ; supposing the basest motives for 
 every action ; disavowing a belief of whatever 
 tended to exculpate ; magnifying, through the me- 
 dium of a heated fancy, every damning proof; 
 overlooking, thrusting aside, explaining away, or 
 ridiculing, every palliating circumstance ; sketch- 
 ing, with a bold pencil of vindictive hate, a picture 
 of unparalleled, irredeemable iniquity, and shed- 
 ding upon it a glare of poetic light, calculated to 
 startle and to appal every heart. How far such a 
 course is conformable to" the elucidation of truth, 
 the interests of society, and the spirit of a court 
 of justice, and how far a more merciful principle 
 might be incompatible with the safe and beneficial 
 operation of the legal machinery, I leave to the 
 determination of the profession itself and of the 
 world. It is certain, however, that long before the 
 eloquent counsel had closed his opening speech, 
 the prisoner, whose doomed head was the single
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 209 
 
 and unsheltered mark for bolt after bolt, launched 
 from the hand of one he had never injured, and 
 against whose fiery assaults he could rear no de- 
 fence, found himself the centre of all eyes, and 
 evidently the object of universal and unmingled 
 horror. Alone, writhing in unspeakable agony 
 compelled to hear himself, his character, his 
 thoughts, words, and actions, misrepresented, 
 blackened, and denounced forbidden the privi- 
 lege of explaining, of denying without the power 
 either to resist or to fly, he lay like Prometheus 
 chained on the cold rock, his heart pierced by the 
 beak of a fierce foe, and with all the thunders of 
 heaven rolling over his head. 
 
 " You have seen, gentlemen," continued the ora- 
 tor, with excited voice and flashing eyes, and, ever 
 and anon, a glance of lofty and pitiless scorn on 
 the ghastly face of his victim " you have seen, in 
 the perpetrator of this dreadful deed, the aspect of 
 youth, the outbreak of feeling, a mild and gentle 
 demeanour, patience, modest silence on the lip, 
 and cheeks blanched by suffering. You are moved. 
 Your bosoms soften. You relent. You think of 
 his heart-broken father: you are fathers your- 
 selves ; you cannot credit the accusation. That 
 gentle face never glared over the agonies himself 
 had occasioned ; those hands never accomplished 
 the deed of death. Beneath that youthful bosom, 
 now heaving with emotion, never lurked the 
 gloomy fierceness of an assassin. Alas ! gentle- 
 men, that my painful duty should break your 
 dreams of mercy. Human nature teems with 
 contrasts and paradoxes like these, and the cun- 
 ning devices of Satan are formed at once to delude 
 the criminal and his fellow-creatures. It is even 
 in such a form that he too often pours his poison. 
 It is in such a bosom that he plants his wildest 
 passions. He secretes the coiled serpent under 
 s 2
 
 210 NORMAN LESLIE-. 
 
 a bed of flowers. Sin often lies where men least 
 suspect its existence. Look not only among the 
 rude, the uncouth, the deformed, the poor, or the 
 ignorant, for the perpetrators of crime. The very 
 passions we most admire lead us astray. Love,, 
 the tenderest of human sentiments, sometimes 
 guides the dagger and drugs the bowl. It is in 
 one like the accused that this passion, with all its 
 frightful consequences, springs with the greatest 
 facility and attains the most monstrous power. It 
 is in the specious form of grace, knowledge, and 
 virtue that the tempter steals upon his victim. A 
 rich and luxuriant soil, gentlemen, teeming with 
 fruit and flowers, yields also the most poisonous 
 plants, in the most remarkable vigour. Has the 
 prisoner's former life been pure and amiable ? has- 
 his character been marked by no atrocity ? has he 
 rather been compassionate and tender, and would 
 my able opponents thence conclude the impossi- 
 bility of his having committed this deed ? They 
 who know human nature will not be deceived by 
 their eloquent sophistry. Your experience, your 
 observation, your reading, have already taught you 
 the fallacy of such reasoning. Nero, one of the 
 bloodiest tyrants that ever darkened the historic 
 page, was, like this man, once a youthful votary of 
 tenderness and refinement ; and his heart, which, 
 when more fully developed, could never sufficiently 
 sate itself with human sacrifice, melted and re- 
 coiled from attaching his signature to a just death- 
 warrant. I refer to this well-known inconsistency 
 in human nature, gentlemen, to. guard your minds- 
 against the attempts, on the part of my ingenious 
 opponents, to excite your sympathies in favour of 
 the character of the accused. Gentlemen, when, 
 God gave the garden of Eden to the beings he 
 had created, on one condition the golden fruit was 
 forbidden to man and beast who was it that 

 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 211 
 
 disobeyed the command? It was none of the 
 lower class of beings ; it was not even man him- 
 self. It was Eve who reached forth her hand, 
 plucked, and ate Eve, the fairest, the purest ; but 
 the penalty of crime must fall upon the guilty, 
 however surrounded with earthly beauty. The 
 golden tresses of the mother of mankind did not 
 shield her head from the anger of Heaven ; nei- 
 ther must your hearts be turned away from justice 
 and your oath, by the eloquence or the subterfuges 
 of my legal opposers. It is the lot of guilt to 
 suffer ; and in yielding on this occasion to the 
 weakness of personal feeling, you must remember 
 that you not only betray the great interests of so- 
 ciety, but you violate your own oaths." 
 
 As the speaker closed, the sudden bustle of the 
 auditory announced their release from the spell 
 which he had exercised over them ; and the uni- 
 versal change of position, and the general freedom 
 of respiration, betrayed that he had held them 
 almost breathless and motionless. 
 
 It may be necessary to inform the reader unac- 
 quainted with the forms of judicial proceedings, that 
 the counsel for the prosecution possess the right to 
 open the case ; that the witnesses in the support of 
 the indictment are then examined. , The counsel 
 for the defendant then produce their testimony, and 
 address the jury in his behalf; and, by a rule of 
 law, which at first appears contrary to its general 
 maxims of mercy, the prosecution exercise the im- 
 portant privilege of advancing the last appeal to 
 the reason and feelings of the jury. The prisoner 
 sits, with such suspense as may be best imagined by 
 the intelligent reader, the silent spectator of the 
 fiercely-contested conflict, upon the issue of which 
 he depends for security from death upon the 
 scaffold. 
 
 It was with the calmness of desperate anguish
 
 212 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 that the accused turned on his seat, after the ad- 
 dress of the prosecuting attorney, to listen to the 
 evidence by which it had been elicited, and which 
 was deemed so abundantly sufficient, in the eyes of 
 a sagacious lawyer, to stamp upon him the un- 
 doubted odium of this heinous crime. 
 
 The limits of the story will not permit us to 
 detail the extraordinary mass of evidence now 
 brought forward in support of the indictment ; but 
 we briefly relate the leading facts, sworn to by 
 many unimpeachable witnesses. 
 
 It appeared that the prisoner was of a sanguine 
 and passionate temperament, prone to act upon 
 impulse of liberal education and uncommon tal- 
 ents, his family wealthy, and his father one of 
 the most eminent of American statesmen. Not- 
 withstanding, however, the graceful and gentle 
 manners and the apparently kind heart of the 
 prisoner, he had several times exhibited a high- 
 wrought temper, a total disregard of morality and 
 religion, and an inherent ferocity which, argued 
 the counsel, might fully sanction the probable truth 
 of the present charge. Count Clairmont was the 
 witness called upon to describe the difference 
 which formerly took place between himself and the 
 prisoner; and the extraordinary barbarity or mad- 
 ness of the latter, who insisted on either not fight- 
 ing at all, or else with the muzzles against each 
 other's breast : in this state the affair was pending, 
 when arranged by the accidental interference of 
 friends. He related also the recent fracas between 
 them, with singular and artful malice. 
 
 It appeared, by other witnesses, that the prisoner 
 had conceived an affection for Miss Remain : it 
 could not be distinctly sworn how far his love was 
 requited, but plausible and terrible surmises were 
 entertained on the subject; and the prosecution 
 attempted to produce evidence leading to the dark-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 213 
 
 est conjectures ; but, as it depended upon hearsay, 
 the witnesses were either prohibited from answer- 
 ing, or their answers were set aside by the court, as 
 not legal proof. They doubtless, however, were 
 not without effect upon the jury. 
 
 It was next proved that a change of sentiments 
 had taken place between Miss Romain and the 
 prisoner; after which she expressed herself in bit- 
 ter terms against him spoke of her wrongs, and 
 her folly in submitting to them ; and exhibited, be- 
 fore a confidential female domestic, keen disap- 
 pointment and anguish, great anxiety, and a mys- 
 terious agitation : sometimes bursting forth into 
 anger, and sometimes settling down into long fits of 
 melancholy. At length she appeared free from all 
 embarrassment ; and the prisoner, in common with 
 many other gentlemen, visited the house as usual. 
 During several days, however, previous to the 
 afternoon of the murder, she let fall, before Jenny, 
 frequent expressions by which the faithful maid's 
 curiosity was greatly awakened, and her affection 
 alarmed. She commenced several times as if to re- 
 veal an important secret; then suddenly turning 
 pale, stopped, and on being interrogated, refused any 
 explanation, sometimes replying with sighs. Once, 
 when she thought herself ajone, she was heard to ex- 
 claim, " If he but prove honest if he but mean well ;" 
 and other similar sentences. Witness, Jenny, 
 slept in a small room immediately adjoining that of 
 Miss Romain. On the morning of the fatal day, 
 she was awakened before light by the sound of her 
 mistress's voice, apparently speaking to some one 
 below. Her mistress stood at a window leading 
 out upon a little balcony. Witness was alarmed, 
 rose, asked what was the matter, and came to the 
 window saw the shadow of a man stealing away. 
 In great alarm and astonishment asked who it wa's, 
 and whether it was Mr. Leslie ? The other re-
 
 214 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 plied, eagerly, " Yes yes, it was Mr. Leslie. He 
 came to tell me something ;" and then added, 
 " but, Jenny, if you ever breathe a word of this to 
 anybody, I will never forgive you while I live ; 
 and, when I am dead, I will haunt you." 
 
 A crowd of witnesses testified that the prisoner 
 had called for the deceased in a gig, on the after- 
 noon of the murder: from that moment she had 
 never been seen or heard of. The prisoner was 
 seen returning in the evening alone. One testified 
 that, aware of his having driven out with Miss Ro- 
 main, he asked why he had left his companion ? 
 that the prisoner exhibited .strong signs of embar- 
 rassment ; and made a confused and unintelligible 
 reply. The hat and feathers of the deceased were 
 found floating upon the East River, near the spot 
 where e he was last trao.p.H with thfi prisnnfir; an 
 extraordinary appearance of a scuffle was discern- 
 ible; and a handkerchief, stained with blood, 
 marked with the initials R. R., and pronounced to 
 be that of Miss Remain, was picked up near the 
 river-bank. 
 
 The circumstance most forcible against the pris- 
 oner was the subsequent discovery of a human 
 body, which had floated far down with the tide, 
 upon the shores of Long Island, in a state to pre- 
 clude the possibility of identifying it ; but in which, 
 notwithstanding, many undertook to recognise the 
 remains of the unfortunate Miss Romain. One in- 
 dividual swore to it positively. 
 
 An appalling array of other evidence was ad- 
 duced, tending to establish all the points necessary 
 to the successful prosecution of the indictment ; 
 and, when the prosecuting attorney rested his case, 
 it is probable that very few, amid the vast and va- 
 rious multitude who had listened with profound 
 attention to the development of these deeply inter- 
 esting incidents, entertained the slightest doubt that
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 215 
 
 the doomed culprit was about to meet a terrible and 
 a just fate. All eyes regarded him without the soft- 
 ness of mercy, or even the interest of doubt. To 
 all he seemed a victim bound for slaughter. The 
 populace had long before lost all sense of pity in 
 wonder and indignation. The broad gaze of cold 
 curiosity, the exclamation of surprise, the murmur 
 of horror, the smile of virtue triumphing in the 
 downfall of a villain all these were scarcely at- 
 tempted to be concealed from the observation of 
 him who had called them forth. 
 
 " Poor Mr. Leslie !" said Jenny, her eyes red 
 with weeping, and after a long gaze upon his calm 
 and noble features, till her pretty blue eyes could 
 no longer see through her tears ; " I shall never 
 trust to man's face again. Oh, Mr. Leslie, forgive 
 me, forgive me ! If you are guilty there is no truth 
 on earth. I cannot believe it." 
 
 It was now late in the afternoon, and the court 
 adjourned, to meet again at six in the evening. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A Letter, and Woman's Friendship. 
 
 " Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed off 
 the next tide." 
 
 INSTEAD of immediately following the prisoner 
 to his cell, we beg the reader's company to the 
 mansion of Moreland. The young advocate had 
 been in court at his station all the morning, and 
 to his watchful care and acute genius the counsel. 
 Mr. Loring, owed many valuable suggestions in
 
 216 NORMAN LESLIE* 
 
 the course of his cross-examination of the wit- 
 nesses. Sometimes his mind was staggered by the 
 testimony, combined with what he had elsewhere 
 heard. He remembered also the strong expres- 
 sions of disgust and hatred which Norman had 
 used respecting Rosalie Romainat Mrs. Temple's, 
 when the deceased had so brilliantly displayed her 
 charms and her talents. Again, the utter impos- 
 sibility of Norman Leslie's having committed a 
 murder flashed on his mind with the force of intui- 
 tion ; and his heart smote him for having ever, even 
 in the weakness of a moment, doubted the invinci- 
 ble purity and innocence of his friend, whom he 
 had so many reasons to admire and love. He had 
 at length come to the conclusion, that either Nor- 
 man was entirely guiltless, or that he had committed 
 the deed under the impulse of some momentary 
 delirium ; or, perhaps, that it was the result of inex- 
 plicable accident ; or, that the affair involved other 
 secrets and mysteries, which honour,* or a high- 
 minded romantic sensibility forbade him to betray, 
 even to save himself from an unjust fate. 
 
 " Dare I ask how it has gone with him to-day ?" 
 said Mrs. Moreland, as her husband reached his 
 home. 
 
 " Badly, gloomily, desperately. His sky is black 
 as midnight, and all the fiercest lightnings of 
 heaven are leaping around his head. Mary, I fear 
 the worst !" 
 
 " Oh, great Providence ! Albert, you will not 
 let those cold and cruel lawyers sacrifice that gen- 
 tle and noble being ! Powers of heaven ! if I were 
 a man ! You, dear Albert, have genius, eloquence, 
 fire Oh speak ! exclaim denounce thunder 
 deafen their ears appal their hearts make them 
 blush make them tremble ! Oh, Albert, save your 
 friend ! save the reputation of your country ! save
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 217 
 
 this cold-blooded court from committing the very 
 .crime that they pretend to punish !" 
 
 " Alas I my sweet wife," said he, pressing the 
 animated girl to his bosom, and looking down 
 mournfully on her beautiful and illumined face, 
 " all the thunders of Demosthenes could not save 
 poor Norman's head from this bolt. Mary, I fear, 
 I fear our friend must die." 
 
 An hour brought a messenger with a letter. It 
 was from Norman, and read thus : 
 
 " My dearest Albert, excuse my warmth to you 
 the other day. I have now seen sufficient reason 
 why even you should be bewildered at the mystery 
 in which I am lost. I beg your pardon sincerely. 
 Visit me once more : I have requested my father 
 and sister to meet me also, for the last time. This 
 day must disentangle my mind from all earthly 
 feelings and agitations. I am resigned to the fatal 
 and inevitable termination of this trial : the ver- 
 dict cannot but be Guilty. Come to me immedi- 
 ately, my dearest friend ; I shall then have done 
 with earth. I must say farewell for ever, to-night. 
 Bid dear, dear Mary, for me, an everlasting adieu, 
 I call down God's blessing on her head. I will not 
 insult her by condescending to assert my inno- 
 cence. Such declarations are useless : such as 
 she do not require, and the rest of the world will 
 not believe, them. I send her a little volume of 
 ' Paradise Lost,' which I have pencilled somewhat 
 freely, not thinking to part with it on so sad an oc- 
 casion. Does she remember our ancient rambles 
 on the banks of the Hudson ? our famous quarrel 
 when we were children, and when we did not 
 speak for three days ? Happy, happy years ! 
 How their tranquil light and beauty contrast with 
 the present ! But I must be a man. Come imme- 
 diately ; the court meet at six it is now four. 
 
 VOL. i. T
 
 218 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 Mary would have been astonished to hear what a 
 dreadful ruffian I was proved to be ! And that affair 
 of the duel ! ! I could have smiled, but they would 
 have ascribed that to my ' inherent ferocity of char- 
 acter' What ^ farce, after all, are often the best 
 ceremonies of a human tribunal. Good-by, for 
 a half-hour : be not longer. It may be my last 
 request. God bless you, dear Mary ! and a long 
 farewell ! Excuse this scrawl ; and in great haste, 
 " Your ever affectionate friend, 
 
 " NORMAN LESLIE." 
 
 " Poor poor fellow !" murmured both at once, 
 their eyes streaming with tears. 
 
 " And see," said Mary, smiling, with that strange 
 intrusion of transient mirth into the midst of grief, 
 not uncommon in similar scenes ; " Norman is sure 
 to have that 'excuse this scrawl, and in great 
 haste,' to all his letters." 
 
 " Good-by, dear wife." 
 
 " Fly, Albert, fly, and the great God of eloquence 
 and justice attend your steps !"
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 2J9 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Prison Scenes The Tried continued Anew Witness. 
 
 " Sable night involves the skies 
 And heaven itself is ravished from their eyes. 
 
 The face of things a frightful image bears, 
 And present death in various forms appears." 
 DRYDKN'S 
 
 MORELAND found the father and sister of Nor- 
 man already in the prison, with his friend Howard. 
 The sad scene had been witnessed but by the 
 black walls alone ; nor shall we attempt to describe 
 the meeting of a father and sister with a beloved 
 and only son and brother, but recently dragged 
 from the bosom of a happy family, with all the re- 
 finement of education, all the sensitiveness of deli- 
 cacy and feeling, and about to perish like a com- 
 ' mon ruffian upon a scaffold. 
 
 The clock tolled six. It was the hour appointed 
 for the reopening of the court. At the earnest so- 
 licitations of the father and sister of Norman, he 
 .consented that the latter should be present during 
 the whole of the trial. The request was also 
 urged by Moreland, who conceived that her ap- 
 pearance would prepare the jury to receive with 
 more liberality the arguments and proof of the de- 
 fence. 
 
 " Well, father," said Norman, with a forced smile, 
 "and dear, dear Julia, now we part, and certainly 
 for ever ; after the verdict, I cannot, I will not, trust
 
 220 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 myself again within the sound of any human voice 
 I love. No one, with my permission, shall look 
 upon my face again. Farewell, farewell ! may 
 Almighty God bless protect relieve you nay,. 
 Julia, nay father, support yourself my sweet 
 Julia Howard, for God's sake " 
 
 They were interrupted by a summons for the 
 prisoner. The young lawyer, his own eyes bathed 
 in tears, drew away with gentle violence the father, 
 while Howard supported the shuddering and faint- 
 ing sister, after an embrace more than twice re- 
 peated, which seemed to drain the life-blood from 
 their lips and hearts. As they were thus led from 
 the cell, Julia, with a shriek of agony, fell senseless 
 in the arms of Howard. 
 
 Returning, to his surprise, Moreland found the 
 countenance and demeanour of Norman calm 
 even cold. 
 
 i " Thank God ! thank God !" he said, in a 
 steady voice, " it is done. The bond is severed 
 the darkness, the bitterness of death is passed. It 
 is this, dear Albert, that I most feared not death 
 itself, but these scenes of frightful grief and har- 
 rowing affection. But we, too, must part. I must 
 meet my fate alone without a friend without a 
 hope to the bar to the sentence to the scaf "' 
 A quivering agony shot across his features ; then 
 again all was calm and cold as marble. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he cried, after a moment's pause, 
 to the officers in waiting to conduct him back to 
 court/ "may I beg one word in private with this 
 my friend and counsellor ?" 
 
 The permission was granted, and they were 
 locked in the cell. 
 
 " Albert," cried Norman, in a voice as changed, 
 wild, and hurried as if his senses were wavering, 
 " Albert, hear me ! by your friendship by your 
 love by the happiness of my family by my life-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 221 
 
 blood by your own honour and peace of mind 
 by earth by the God that made it grant, grant 
 my request !" 
 
 "Speak speak, my injured, my noble friend !" 
 said Moreland, partaking his agitation. 
 
 " You saw my poor father but now ?" 
 
 "Well, Norman?" 
 
 " And my sweet sister ? a beautiful, blooming 
 girl, with the bright world before her." 
 
 "Well, dear Norman?" 
 
 "That noble man's proud head, Albert that 
 dear girl's pure, fond, high heart, as susceptible to 
 pride, Albert, as sensitive to grief and disgrace, 
 
 He struck his hand upon his forehead ; his 
 bosom heaved and panted ; and his nostril dilated 
 with the hard-drawn breath. 
 
 " Well, Norman, hope for the best." 
 
 " Albert," said Norman, " trifle not with me. I 
 must be crushed in this dreadful fate. Earth can- 
 not save me, Heaven will not ! To-night I shall be 
 adjudged guilty; and in' a few more days the 
 crowd the cord the scaffold end Norman Les- 
 lie. Death alone I do not fear. Oh God, how I 
 have wished for it ! but I must die on the scaffold, 
 before the mob the shouting, laughing, reckless, 
 jesting mob a spectacle of horror and ignominy 
 a public proverb ! Oh Albert, Albert ! my friend 
 my guardian my saviour my last best only 
 only hope I wish " 
 
 His paleness turned frightful. 
 
 " Norman," cried Moreland, in a tone of alarm, 
 " in the name of mercy, what would you ask ?" 
 
 " Think my friend think," said Norman. 
 
 " I am dizzy, dear Norman, I cannot think." 
 
 A new summons interrupted them. 
 
 " Albert we will meet again. I must die but 
 not on the scaffold ; forbid it, friendship manly 
 
 T2
 
 222 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 honour ! After this mummery is over this farci- 
 cal, ridiculous ceremony of a trial, where every 
 word that is spoken is a black slander, an unholy 
 lie, where falsehood and prejudice appear to tes- 
 tify, and where even truth herself comes only in a 
 vile and monstrous disguise when this stupid 
 mockery is over, come to me, Albert, bring me the 
 means of escape." 
 
 " Norman, 1 do not understand." 
 
 " Not from these dismal walls, Albert" he ap- 
 proached, and whispered in his ear, with a look of 
 wild meaning, and struck his hand upon his breast 
 " from this !" 
 
 "Great God !" 
 
 " Fail me, Albert, and I die despising ; assist 
 me, and I bless you with my expiring breath. 
 This thought has supported me ; this cooled the 
 scorching fever in my veins and bursting temples 
 during the last two days." 
 
 A more imperative call now cut short the inter- 
 view. 
 
 He smiled as the officers now entered ; and, 
 bearing up proudly and loftily under the gaze of 
 crowds assembled outside the prison to see him 
 pass, he stepped with a calm and thoughtful air 
 through the passage opened for him by the throngs 
 in the corridors of the Hall, and in the chamber 
 of justice, and assumed his accustomed seat. His 
 coolness created in some surprise, in others indig- 
 nation, according as in their short-sighted and su- 
 perficial observations they ascribed it to hackneyed 
 villany, or impudent confidence in his connections 
 and rank in society. Who shall read the heart in 
 those ever-changing and accidental moods which 
 chance upon the manners or countenance ? 
 
 " He depends on a pardon," said one. 
 
 " Influence at court," cried another. 
 
 " Kissing goes by favour/' exclaimed a third.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 223 
 
 " But he'll swing for it yet," cried a fourth, " or 
 my name aint Jemmy Jackson !" 
 
 " The blood-thirsty villain !" observed one ; 
 " how he glares at the prosecuting attorney !" 
 
 " That proud rascal yonder," said Jemmy Jack- 
 son, who, from some capricious association, had 
 conceived an especial antipathy to the prisoner, 
 " and that girl in the black veil that's his father 
 and sister, ye see." 
 
 " Poor people !" rejoined the person to whom 
 was made this communication; "they must feel 
 terrible, sure enough." 
 
 " Hoot, man, I'll warrant them as bad as he," 
 returned the implacable Jemmy Jackson ; "such 
 fruit could spring from no good tree. In my opin- 
 ion they ought to be all hanged together. I should 
 not wonder if he paid his way through yet." 
 
 " Jemmy Jackson, you are an old fool-," said a 
 Marine Court lawyer, himself rather advanced in 
 years. 
 
 " Then it's pot calling kettle black, I'm thinkin," 
 said Jemmy, winking to his companions. "And 
 why am I a fool, Mr. Oakum ?" 
 
 " Because ye are, Jemmy ; and that's a better 
 reason than you can give for saying that anybody 
 pays his way. Here no one pays his way ; not 
 even yourself, Jemmy, if you should be called on 
 to be hanged one day, which is not unlikely." 
 
 " But there is such a thing as bribing a witness," 
 said Jemmy, who, without the least cause but his 
 own whim, had so dogmatically determined upon 
 the guilt of the prisoner and all his relations, that 
 if the murdered girl herself had made her appear- 
 ance to disprove the charge of her death, he would 
 have laid it to bribery. " You remember the gold 
 snuff-box which one of you lawyers quietly passed 
 to a juror, Mr. Oakum ?"
 
 224 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " Not I, Jemmy; /never passed a gold snuff-box 
 to a juror." 
 
 " No," said Jemmy, " the gold snuff-boxes you 
 may have, friend Oakum, you are more likely to 
 keep yourself; not on account of your conscience, 
 but your pocket." 
 
 " Hoot, hist, silence !" cried Mr. Oakum, pre- 
 tending not to hear the laugh which Jemmy Jack- 
 son's wit occasioned ; " don't you see they're going 
 to begin. Mr. Loring is going to open the defence. 
 There are two sides to a stone wall, you know, 
 Mr. Jemmy Jackson. Sit down there ! no stand- 
 ing up within the bar ! Silence !" and his whisper 
 was echoed in an obstreperous tone by the crier. 
 
 The counsel for the prisoner, Mr. Loring, com- 
 menced his arduous and apparently hopeless 
 duties. 
 
 We must here again express in a few lines what 
 occupied the court a long time. It was admitted 
 that Miss Remain disappeared the afternoon of 
 her ride with the prisoner. That he had gone out 
 with her and returned alone. His own explana- 
 tion stated that Miss Romain had ridden with him 
 upon a casual invitation ; that on reaching an un- 
 frequented place, they met a lady riding alone in 
 a gig, and, what he considered very extraordinary, 
 driving herself. The deceased entered the gig, 
 and, after a few moments' private conversation 
 with her, and with many apologies to the prisoner, 
 expressed a wish to return with her. That pris- 
 oner had then gone back alone by a different route, 
 and had not suspected her disappearance till some 
 time after, when he immediately called on her 
 father to explain what he knew of so extraordinary 
 a circumstance. 
 
 Mr. Loring opened the defence by stating that 
 the incident was plunged in doubt and mystery-
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 225 
 
 The idea that a man of the prisoner's character, 
 even were he inclined to commit a murder, would 
 select such a time and such means, was absurd. 
 He might as well have perpetrated it in the city 
 streets at noonday. It was evident that some un- 
 fathomable mystery was connected with it, with 
 which the prisoner had nothing to do, and which 
 the court had not yet approached. It was one of 
 those inexplicable occurrences which, when ge- 
 nius, and acuteness, and professional learning had 
 vainly endeavoured to solve, unfolded of itself in 
 the course of time. " The explanation of the pris- 
 oner may appear a clumsy fabrication, too clumsy 
 to believe ; yet, gentlemen, beware how you admit 
 that supposition. To me its very clumsiness and 
 improbability furnish a reason for its truth. You 
 smile. But do improbable things never happen ? 
 Are all the actions of the great, confused, clashing, 
 mutable world probable ? Must a man perish be- 
 cause an improbable fact had taken place ? I say, 
 gentlemen, the greater the improbability of this 
 story, the more implicitly I believe it. Had he 
 wished to invent a story, it would have been more 
 cunningly devised." 
 
 The evidence for the prisoner was very limited. 
 The officers swore to his horror and astonishment 
 at being arrested ; but, in the cross-examination, 
 confessed that he betrayed extraordinary signs of 
 confusion, strongly resembling guilt. Others had 
 seen him on his return from the fatal ride, without 
 observing any embarrassment or abstraction. 
 
 The evidence of Miss Leslie, although indirect, 
 was received with lively marks of sympathy. She 
 had met her brother, on his arrival from the after- 
 noon ride, and had particularly remarked his health 
 and cheerfulness. She described him as peculiarly 
 gay, having been one of a party of ladies and gen- 
 tlemen who walked on the Battery in the evening, 

 
 226 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 and discovering, in all the thousand offices of cour- 
 tesy, a heart entirely at rest. 
 
 " Oh," continued the young and lovely girl, en- 
 thusiastic affection quite drowning every consider- 
 ation of personal embarrassment, " they who be- 
 lieve Norman capable of committing that or any 
 other crime, little know his character. Even sup- 
 posing it possible in a moment of delirium, it is 
 not possible that afterward he could be so natural 
 and easy, so completely unembarrassed and happy. 
 From boyhood, Norman has been remarkable for 
 betraying in his countenance what was passing in 
 his heart, and even for blushing when any thing 
 confused him. But we saw no kind of agitation 
 whatever; and I am certain that he could not 
 have concealed from us, had any secret weighed 
 upon " 
 
 " This is all very well," said Mr. Germain, who 
 had been particularly vehement and bitter during 
 the whole trial against everybody and every thing 
 tending to exculpate the prisoner '.' this is all very 
 well ; but I ask the court if it is evidence. The 
 young lady, I believe, comes here as witness, not 
 as counsel." 
 
 This was received as any levity that breaks 
 the monotonous solemnity of a court of justice is 
 sure to be received with a slight general titter ; 
 although one of the jurors was observed to pass 
 his fingers hastily over his glistening eyes. The 
 prisoner smiled bitterly, and shook his head as if 
 in wonder. Moreland rose for the first time. 
 
 " May it please the court," cried Moreland, in a 
 voice low almost to a whisper, but so perceptibly 
 tremulous that a general hush succeeded his first 
 words " may it please the court : we are a tribu- 
 nal of justice. I am aware we are judges, jury, 
 counsel, and spectators ; and from such assemblies 
 I know it is proper to exclude all feeling. But,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 227 
 
 nevertheless, we are we ought to be men. If the 
 prisoner be guilty though young, proud, beautiful, 
 and noble, with other deep hearts wound convul- 
 sively around him, and bound up in him yet, if he 
 be guilty, let him die the death of violence and 
 ignominy." 
 
 A shudder and a drawing in of the breath was 
 heard from the sister, like that of the victim when 
 the edge of the axe first glitters before his eyes. 
 The spectators grew more profoundly motionless 
 and silent, and Moreland, rising and warming with 
 his emotions, went on : 
 
 "I would not from private feeling, not even 
 from private opinion, turn aside the sword of pub- 
 lic justice. But I will not, I dare not, I cannot sit 
 silently by, and behold the best emotions of nature 
 outraged, ridiculed, trampled down, by the habitual 
 coldness or hardened zeal of the profession to 
 which I belong. If the sister of this unhappy man 
 in her secret soul believes him guilty, still her 
 trembling voice, her streaming eyes, her woman's 
 heart raised in his behalf, demand the respect and 
 attention of a civilized people. But if this amiable 
 and lovely girl here plead for the life of a brother, 
 on whose utter and complete innocence she relies 
 as she has faith in her own existence and in her 
 God, if she possess knowledge, if she can advance 
 arguments to rescue him from a dishonourable and 
 untimely grave, or even to relieve her own broken 
 heart with the outpourings of its swollen and ago- 
 nized fulness, let the hand that would stay her 
 fall palsied let the tongue that would deride her 
 blister. The motive which now inspires this affec- 
 tionate sister to throw herself timid and trem- 
 bling woman as she is before a tribunal of jus- 
 tice, and before such a crowd as now hears me, to 
 speak in defence of a beloved brother, is pure, ex- 
 alted, unalloyed, and noble; and in the name of
 
 223 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 every thing good and generous, in the name of 
 mercy, of charity, in the name of woman, I claim 
 for her protection from the derision and sneers 
 which the learned gentlemen on the other side of 
 the question have thought it not beneath them to 
 express against the defence." 
 
 A burst of irrepressible applause, notwithstand- 
 ing the solemnity of the place, followed this out- 
 flash of indignant feeling ; but it was instantly and 
 sternly silenced and rebuked by the court, who 
 threatened to commit immediately to prison any 
 one guilty of such a contempt in future, and directed 
 the officers to be watchful. 
 
 The prosecuting counsel, Mr. Germain, against 
 whose head this bolt had been evidently directed, 
 rose, rubbing his hands with a distrustful smile, 
 and a confidential look along the jury. 
 
 " May it please the court but one word, your 
 honour," he said ; " the gentleman misunderstands 
 me. My heart bleeds as well as his 'own at the 
 sight of private suffering ; but I know how neces- 
 sary it is in matters of justice to guard against 
 personal feeling. Virtue and domestic love are 
 beautiful words ; but there are also such words as 
 law and justice. I perceive the artifice of the in- 
 genious counsel in producing before the jury the 
 father and sister of the prisoner, to soften our 
 hearts and inflame our feelings. It is a trick of 
 the profession. Legal questions should be dis- 
 cussed only by the light of reason. They require 
 only a deliberate and unprejudiced examination of 
 proof, and a cold knowledge of statutes the 
 colder and the more unfeeling, the better. What- 
 ever may be the sufferings of the prisoner or his 
 family, what bearing can they have, ought they to 
 have, on the naked question, Ms he or is he not 
 guilty ?' In respect to the evidence of Miss Les- 
 lie, whom, of course, we are bound to believe very 

 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 229 
 
 pure in her intentions, I wish only to restrict her 
 within the legal limits of a witness. If sisters 
 turn pleaders, stealing in under license of wit- 
 nesses, a new and most dangerous era will be in- 
 troduced into our jurisprudence. Private feeling, 
 however harrowing, is but insignificant when com- 
 pared with the public good. Neither should we 
 forget to distinguish between the pain resulting 
 directly from guilt in those connected with the 
 guilty party, and that inflicted by him upon others. 
 The parent and sister of the unhappy culprit are 
 not the only bereaved victims of this crime now 
 within hearing of my voice. The grief-stricken 
 heart of that old man, whose only daughter fell 
 beneath the prisoner's hand have we no sympa- 
 thy with his dark age, with his deserted hearth? 
 Let the unfortunate man at the bar regard the 
 wreck he has caused in his own circle with feel- 
 ings of bitter anguish, and may Heaven support 
 him under the trial ! But we have nothing to see, 
 nothing to feel, but whether, on the proof adduced, 
 he be guilty or not guilty." 
 
 The court begged that nothing more might be 
 said on the subject. They had heard the counsel 
 for the defence, because they wished to extend to- 
 wards the prisoner every possible clemency, and 
 the prosecution had a certain right to reply; but 
 the question respecting the evidence of the witness 
 was unimportant. She must be allowed to relate 
 her statements in her own way ; and if, from her 
 feelings or her inexperience, out of order, she would 
 be restrained by the court. 
 
 " What else do you know respecting the case ?" 
 inquired Mr. Loring of the witness. 
 
 "Nothing," was the reply, and thus the long 
 debate had been unnecessary. 
 
 After a confused mass of contradictory testi- 
 mony, Mr. Loring announced his intention of pro- 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 230 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 ducing one more witness, who had voluntarily 
 come forward in the cause of innocence, and to 
 prevent the unjust effusion of human blood one 
 whose station and character were unimpeachably 
 pure; whose motives could not be impugned or 
 traduced ; who was swayed 'neither by the power 
 of domestic love, nor by any intimate acquaintance 
 with the prisoner; a lady, the daughter of one of 
 the most distinguished families in the city: her 
 testimony, he added, would be conclusive. It had 
 come to his knowledge by accident, and only this 
 moment, and could not fail to acquit the prisoner. 
 
 This announcement produced much excitement. 
 The judge turned to gaze with an eagerness almost 
 incompatible with his dignity ; the jury looked 
 anxiously forward; the prosecuting counsel smiled 
 shrewdly, and muttered aloud, " A new device of 
 the enemy;" and the auditory at large stretched 
 their necks to behold the new comer, whom more 
 than one pronounced to be Miss Romain herself. 
 Not among the least surprised was the prisoner, 
 who leaned forward with evident curiosity. The 
 side-doors being opened, a female enveloped in a 
 close bonnet and veil entered, and took her seat on 
 the witness's stand.
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Hope dawns. 
 
 But thou, oh Hope, with eyes so fair !" 
 
 COLLINS. 
 
 " THE gentleman appears peculiarly favoured 
 by the fair sex," said Mr. Germain, half aloud. 
 
 " Is it another sister ?" asked a juror. 
 
 "No," replied the counsel, quickly, and, in a 
 voice too low to be distinctly heard, added some- 
 thing which occasioned a laugh among those im- 
 mediately around him, and even from one or two 
 of the jurors. 
 
 The witness was narrowly scrutinized by all 
 eyes, and, though wrapped in her veil and bonnet, 
 was observed to shrink at thus appearing before 
 the public. Her step faltered, her voice, as she 
 replied to the judge's question concerning her 
 name, trembled, and was so low as to render her 
 reply at first unintelligible. She made a gesture, 
 too, of faintness, at the rude laugh directed ap- 
 parently against herself. 
 
 " Sit down, madam," said Moreland, in a sooth- 
 ing tone ; " you have nothing to fear." 
 
 " What is the young lady's name ?" asked the 
 judge. 
 
 "Miss Temple Flora Temple," answered 
 Moreland; thus kindly furnishing her time to re- 
 cover her voice and composure.
 
 232 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 An exclamation of surprise from the prisoner 
 announced that to him her name brought astonish- 
 ment. He stirred, changed his position, and leaned 
 forward. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed, Miss Temple," said Mr. 
 Loring ; " take your own time to reply. You are 
 a resident of New- York ? You are daughter of 
 Mr. Herman Temple ? You are acquainted with 
 the prisoner ?" 
 
 These and one or two other similar interrogato- 
 ries were put by the careful counsel in order to 
 lead the witness from her embarrassment. They 
 were answered, at first, in a voice almost inau- 
 dible. 
 
 " Louder, louder," said Mr. Germain. " If the 
 young lady will have the kindness to speak louder, 
 we may at least hear what this wonderful se- 
 cret is." 
 
 " You are acquainted with the prisoner ?" said 
 Mr. Loring. 
 
 " I have known him for some years," was the 
 reply, in a tone much more loud and distinct, but 
 so soft and full of music that a murmur of interest 
 was heard in her behalf. 
 
 "Are you related to him in any way?" asked 
 Germain. 
 
 " Not in the least." 
 
 " Are you likely, or rather have you ever been 
 likely to be ?" added Germain, bluntly, and with 
 another laugh. 
 
 " The witness is ours," said Moreland ; " and I 
 must again beg and entreat of the court protection 
 from derision." 
 
 " Have you any interest in the result of this 
 cause ?" asked Loring. 
 
 11 Oh yes, yes !" was the answer. 
 
 " Then, may it please the court," said Germain, 
 starting up, " I move that-"
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 233 
 
 "She is interested only, as we are all inter- 
 ested, in the triumph of truth," said Moreland. 
 
 " You are putting words into the witness's 
 mouth," interrupted Germain. 
 
 A brisk interchange of elocution here took 
 place, too common in courts of justice, when every 
 trivial point is attacked and defended with the 
 thunder of battle-axe and the clash of swords, and 
 the most unjust devices of ingenuity (in other trans- 
 actions what would it be termed ?) are not aban- 
 doned without a skirmish. Lawyers' tongues are 
 sharp as soldiers' swords, and sometimes cut as 
 deep ; and wo betide the modest, the pure, the de- 
 fenceless, who come between the "great opposites" 
 in the keen excitement of an interesting case. It 
 would not be fair to advance this charge against 
 the whole American bar, but there is too much 
 truth in it. Great is the praise, therefore, due to 
 those who redeem the character of the profession 
 by a more moderate and generous course, who 
 pursue their client's interest only as far as sanc- 
 tioned by propriety and honour ; and who, in the 
 most absorbing interest of their pursuit, preserve 
 a reverence for truth, and never, never offend the 
 delicacy due to woman. Yet the most honest 
 witness in a court of justice frequently finds him- 
 self stung with sarcasms, attacked with the bitter- 
 ness of malice, flatly charged with perjury, over- 
 whelmed with odium, and dismissed with disgrace 
 from a station to which the court has forced him, 
 after delivering testimony, perhaps, the most re- 
 pugnant to his own private feelings ; and for this 
 degradation, neither the law nor the customs of 
 society offer redress. 
 
 " Have you any personal, any pecuniary interest 
 in the event of this action ?" asked the counsel. 
 
 " Oh no, no !" replied Miss Temple. 
 
 M And now," said Mr. Loring, " pray tell the 
 u2
 
 234 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 jury, in a distinct voice, what you know of the 
 prisoner." 
 
 " I have met Mr. Leslie frequently in company, 
 and at my father's house. His manners have been 
 always gentle, and his character high and noble ; 
 certainly the character of a man quite, quite in- 
 capable of" 
 
 Germain rose. Moreland rose also. The judge 
 sternly commanded both to be seated. 
 
 " You say you know the prisoner's character to 
 be good ?" 
 
 I do." 
 
 " Were you acquainted with Rosalie Remain ? n 
 
 "I was." 
 
 "Familiarly?" 
 
 " Quite so." 
 
 " What was her character?" 
 
 Flora looked down at the unhappy father, and 
 hesitated ; but, remembering the imperative nature 
 of her duty, continued, 
 
 " She was light, and very eccentric." 
 
 "Do you believe her, from what you know, 
 capable of so remarkable a measure as eloping ?" 
 
 " I do. She wanted steadiness of mind, and 
 was actuated by sudden impulses." 
 
 " Were you familiarly acquainted with her 
 features ?" 
 
 " Quite familiarly. Her appearance and face 
 were very peculiar. She was tall, graceful, ma- 
 jestic, and very beautiful." 
 
 Mr. Romain, who had followed the testimony of 
 this witness with mute and strained attention, now 
 leaned his forehead on the table, wept, and mur- 
 mured, " My child, my child !" 
 
 " Go on," said the judge. 
 
 " The afternoon on which she was said to have 
 been murdered, I was one of a party walking 
 rather late in the evening on the Battery. The
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 235 
 
 gentleman who happened to be my companion 
 led me from the rest towards the water-side, to 
 behold an effect of the light on the opposite shore." 
 " Tell who the gentleman was," said Mr. Ger- 
 main. 
 
 " It was Mr. Leslie, the prisoner." 
 " Oh ho! I see through this !" muttered Germain, 
 laughing and rubbing his hands knowingly. 
 
 " It was an uncommonly clear moonlight even- 
 ing ; and while we gazed at the light, I saw very 
 distinctly Rosalie Remain." 
 
 " God of heaven !" cried Mr. Remain, rising sud- 
 denly ; " this has crossed me before. My blessed 
 young lady, are you sure ?" 
 
 " Mr. Remain," said the court, affected evidently, 
 but with an effort, " we must endeavour to sup- 
 press these sudden bursts of feeling ; they greatly 
 impede the proceedings." 
 
 But the contagion of surprise had passed through 
 the whole audience. There was a general pause 
 a movement and agitated commotion, quelled not 
 without some delay and difficulty. The prisoner 
 had started on his feet. 
 
 "Proceed, Miss Temple," said Mr. Loring. 
 " You saw Miss Remain ?" 
 
 " Wrapped in a veil. She saw us, started, and 
 turned away." 
 
 Mr. Loring rose. " I have produced this wit- 
 ness, may it please the court, to establish beyond 
 the shadow of a doubt" (with that deliberate em- 
 phasis familiar to lawyers) " the innocence of the 
 prisoner. She is an unimpeachable witness. We 
 rest our defence. I yield her to the ingenuity of 
 our learned opponents. They will, doubtless, en- 
 deavour to bewilder and distress her ; but I repose 
 with unshaken confidence in the result of this im- 
 portant testimony. Far from the prisoner's having 
 been guilty of murder, it appears that no murder
 
 236 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 has been committed at all. The witness, gentle- 
 men, is yours." 
 
 It is a painfully interesting moment when the 
 witness, whose testimony, if left as it has been de- 
 livered, would certainly acquit the being trembling 
 with every tone of her voice for his life, is turned 
 over to the destroying malignity of the other party. 
 The fabric, apparently impregnable, in which the 
 persecuted, hunted down prisoner has taken refuge, 
 becomes the scene of a furious attack. Blow after 
 blow, all the heavy machinery of wit, cunning, and 
 learning are brought to play upon it, till, yielding 
 to fate, its gates broken in, its foundations under- 
 mined, at length it falls to the ground. 
 
 " This is a ghost-story," said Germain, with an 
 incredulous smile. " Let us see, miss, if we can- 
 not unravel the mystery." 
 
 And the lively interest of all present, including 
 Mr. Loring, notwithstanding his " unshaken confi- 
 dence," acknowledged their strongly excited curi- 
 osity. 
 
 " You say," said Germain, with a taunting, sneer- 
 ing air, " that you were walking with the prisoner 
 when you beheld this apparition ?" 
 
 " I have not referred to any apparition," said 
 the witness, quietly. 
 
 "Oh ho ! we congratulate your reviving spirits. 
 When you saw Rosalie Romain, then, if you prefer 
 that form of expression?" 
 
 " I said so, sir." 
 
 ". And pray what time was it ?" with a look and 
 almost a wink at the jury. 
 
 " The clock had struck nine." 
 
 " Ah, after nine at night ! And the phantom was 
 accompanied by whom ?" 
 
 " By another female." 
 
 " You saw Rosalie Romain, after nine o'clock at 
 night, with another female ! Well, upon my word,
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 237 
 
 young lady, this is a probable story ! What was 
 she doing there ? Riding on a broomstick ?" 
 " She was doing nothing. She passed us." 
 "Veiled?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, thickly veiled." 
 " Your eyes, I presume," with another sly wink 
 to the jury, " possess some extraordinary organic 
 power above those of common mortals, not gifted 
 with the privilege of seeing phantoms. So you 
 recognised Rosalie Remain through the folds of a 
 thick veil and in the darkness of night ! More 
 men in buckram, gentlemen." 
 
 " Passing a lamp, the glare fell on her face. She 
 drew the veil aside a moment, as she came near ; 
 then covering herself again hastily, quickened her 
 step, and was immediately out of sight." 
 
 " Oh, that was very kind in her, to let you see 
 her face, was it not t You have told a probable 
 and very interesting story very romantic at least. 
 What did the prisoner do all this time ? . Did he 
 say nothing?" 
 
 The witness was silent. 
 
 " Ah ! he said something you are unwilling to 
 reveal. Come, what was it ? Remember, you 
 are on oath the truth, the whole truth, and no- 
 thing but the truth." 
 
 " He said," replied the witness, in a lower tone, 
 " that he did not think the person we had seen was 
 Miss Remain." 
 
 " Oh ho ! now you are coming to the crisis. So 
 the prisoner did not think the person you had seen 
 was Rosalie Remain ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "And you did?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "And do?" 
 
 And do." 
 
 Who saw her first ? n
 
 238 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 "Mr. Leslie." 
 
 " Ah ha ! And pointed her out to you t" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "And then immediately rejected the idea,^ as if 
 he knew the impossibility of her being there?" 
 
 " He exhibited no certainty ; he said, indiffer- 
 ently, it could not possibly be her." 
 
 " Ah ha ! so, so ! As I said, you see, gentle- 
 men. Pray, madam, have you ever been con- 
 tracted in marriage 1" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "You must excuse me if I enter a little into 
 particulars. Have you ever been under any en- 
 gagement of matrimony ?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Perfectly free ? Has Mr. Leslie never" 
 
 Again Moreland interfered. Again Germain 
 defended his question. 
 
 " What do the prosecution wish to prove ?" 
 asked the judge. 
 
 " That this worthy young lady," said Germain, 
 " who may be honest enough in the ordinary affairs 
 of life, comes here now, under the influence of 
 strong feelings of love, to save a man whom " 
 " 1 protest !" said Moreland. 
 
 " I insist !" said Germain. 
 
 " Do you wish to impeach the testimony of this 
 witness ?" asked the judge. 
 
 Flora trembled and shrank. The prisoner rose 
 again ; his eyes flashed upon Germain a look of 
 such withering anger, that the lawyer quailed a 
 moment beneath its fire. 
 
 Moreland begged the interference of the court. 
 
 " We wish to show, may it please the court," 
 added Germain, " that the young lady is about as 
 disinterested a witness as the learned gentleman is 
 a counsel the one testifying for her lover, the 
 other pleading for his friend."
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 230 
 
 " Order, gentlemen !" cried the judge. 
 
 " And what," resumed Germain, " is this love- 
 sick young lady and her affections, which the next 
 breeze will bear away what are her pretty 
 sensibilities to the great cause and majesty of 
 public justice, to the proper administration of laws, 
 and to purging the commonwealth from the stain 
 of black and hateful crimes ! I do not mean, may 
 it please your honour, to charge this young lady 
 with perjury; but I do mean to suggest that a 
 sentiment of love has existed, and still exists, be- 
 tween the witness and the prisoner ; that her feel- 
 ings warp her judgment, and have presented to her 
 what she desires to have seen rather than what 
 she saw. Some remote resemblance between a 
 night-wandering female on the Battery and the 
 deceased struck her eye, and is now remembered 
 in this emergency. If there were probability in 
 her conjecture, probability even to seize upon the 
 memory of the wretched culprit himself, why has 
 this witness been delayed so long? Why was it 
 left to the discovery of accident? Why did not 
 the prisoner call upon her to advance ? Why was 
 she not subpoenaed by the defence ? A love-sick 
 girl, with her head full of novels, and her heart " 
 
 The prisoner once more rose and interrupted 
 the speaker with a haughty and determined air, 
 and, in a voice deep and rich, that sounded 
 strangely impressive in the sudden hush, said, 
 
 " Being here a defenceless man, I invoke the aid 
 of the court against these attacks upon my friends. 
 I solicit no sympathy or mercy on my own part. 
 I yield my blood to the demands of fate and of 
 mistaken justice. But, as the last request of a 
 doomed, a dying, and an innocent man, I entreat 
 that the malignity which animates the learned 
 gentlemen of the prosecution may pour out its ex- 
 clusive fury on my head. I entreat that those who
 
 240 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 appear in my behalf be protected from unjust sus- 
 picion and wanton insult. There never has been 
 any such sentiment as the learned gentleman has 
 so frequently referred to exchanged between that 
 young lady and myself. On the contrary, she has 
 uniformly treated me with the utmost reserve, and 
 I am most unwilling that she should now suffer for 
 her magnanimity in appearing before a tribunal 
 where the modesty of woman is so little .respected, 
 and in favour of one who to her has always been, 
 and must ever be, less than nothing." 
 
 He sat down with flashing eyes, but a fierce and 
 proud demeanour ; and there had been such a fas- 
 cination in the smooth, fierce, and indignant flow 
 of his words, and in the deep vehemence, feeling, 
 and solemnity of his face, voice, and manner, and 
 such interest was universally experienced to hear 
 what he had to say, that he was not interrupted. 
 But immediately on his close, his interference was 
 pronounced out of order, and the stir following his 
 words was with some difficulty quieted. The 
 witness drew her veil closer at the sound of his 
 voice, but said nothing, and awaited motionless 
 the next interrogation. 
 
 " I have only one or two more questions," said 
 Mr. Germain. " Can you swear, Miss Temple 
 but," he added, abruptly, " I will thank you to put 
 aside your veil. I cannot examine a witness pro- 
 perly without seeing her face." 
 
 Miss Temple, after a moment of hesitation, 
 completely and, for the first time, fully revealed to 
 the spectators the features of an exquisitely lovely 
 young creature, beautiful beyond description. Her 
 light auburn hair parted with simplicity on her 
 forehead, a pair of large, tender blue eyes, droop- 
 ing beneath the general gaze, and lifted only once, 
 as if to glance reproachfully upon the countenance 
 of the harsh querist. Modesty and sweetness
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 241 
 
 were expressed upon her face with the most grace- 
 ful and feminine charm. All eyes regarded her 
 with strong and new sympathy and admiration. 
 Some surprise was manifested at her extreme pale* 
 ness. The prisoner riveted his eyes on her a few 
 moments with an expression of deep melancholy, 
 and then leaned down his forehead upon his hand 
 in silence. 
 
 Germain, who, by his rudeness, had given the 
 unconsciously beautiful girl this decided advan- 
 tage over him, found himself in the situation of a 
 warrior, who, pressing his pursuit too eagerly, sinks 
 into some snare of the enemy. He was himself 
 slightly surprised and embarrassed at the sweet- 
 ness and refinement of her towards whom he had 
 exhibited so little tenderness, and it seemed that 
 his conscience smote him. 
 
 " You will pardon my abruptness, my dear 
 young lady," he said ; " I am truly sorry that duty 
 compels me to put painful questions. You must 
 inform the jury whether you have been always 
 entirely free from matrimonial engagements with 
 the prisoner." 
 
 " The question is not painful to me," replied she> 
 in a mild and slightly tremulous tone. " Nothing 
 of the kind has ever taken place between Mr. Les- 
 lie and myself; on the contrary, it was always 
 understood that Mr. Leslie was attached to Miss 
 Romain." 
 
 u And do you believe it ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " One more question and remember, young 
 lady, you are on your oath, and that the Creator of 
 all things sees your heart. Tell me now, solemnly* 
 are you prepared to swear actually, absolutely, and 
 positively, that the person you saw, on the night of 
 the supposed murder, was Rosalie Romain ? can 
 swear to this, to a certainty ?" 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 242 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " I can swear to nothing," replied the witness, 
 " with actual certainty ; but " 
 
 " She cannot swear with certainty /" cried Ger- 
 main, triumphantly, turning to the jury. 
 
 "She cannot swear with certainty!" echoed 
 one. 
 
 " She cannot swear with certainty !" reiterated 
 another. 
 
 "But I clearly think so," cried the witness, 
 with a faint attempt not to be borne down by the 
 undiscriminating vehemence of her opponents. 
 
 " She only thinks she only fancies," interrupted 
 Germain; "it is precisely as I thought, a mere 
 conjecture. You see, gentlemen, after all, this 
 important witness is nothing nothing whatever." 
 
 Some other questions were advanced in turn by 
 either party, but nothing new was elicited. After 
 the examination of two or three witnesses, to settle 
 and define several minor points, the evidence was 
 closed, and the counsel for the defence addressed 
 the jury. 
 
 It rarely happens that two advocates upon the 
 same evidence can frame appeals very different 
 from each other. Yet perhaps few instances could 
 be produced where speeches were made more 
 opposite in their nature than those now heard from, 
 the two counsel for the prisoner. Mr. Loring was 
 cool, technical, and wary. He examined the 
 proof, item after item, with a cautious hand and a 
 keen eye, but yet with a sophistry which his oppo- 
 nents knew how to counteract by similar wea- 
 pons. 
 
 Moreland took a higher ground ; and the con- 
 tagious sympathy and confidence which he had now 
 fully imbibed himself kindled a kindred fire in the 
 bosoms of his hearers. He did not fail also to 
 persuade reason by deliberate examination of the 
 proof, but it was with the ardour of one who felt
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 243 
 
 and believed what he asserted. His able and elo- 
 quent discourse was listened to with the profound- 
 est attention. The jurors sometimes nodded their 
 heads in acquiescence, and sometimes, by their 
 countenance, expressed surprise and pleasure at 
 the unexpected inferences which, under his acute 
 and ingenious intelligence, many points in proof 
 were made to yield. Several facts, apparently 
 most fatal to the prisoner, were now presented in 
 a light so new as to elucidate his innocence ; and 
 long before he had finished with a technical con- 
 sideration of the testimony, he had awakened in 
 every breast a lively confidence in the innocence 
 of the prisoner, and had thrown about him a kind 
 of interest like the halo of a martyr. 
 
 Horse-racing, theatres, and gambling enchain 
 men by their excitement ; but it may be questioned 
 whether any can exceed the interest with which a 
 mind fully understanding the bearings of a case, 
 and f interested from affection, or even ordinary 
 sympathy, follows the perpetual and sudden vicis- 
 situdes in the course of such a trial. It presents 
 a continued and striking series of changes ; rapid 
 and shifting alternations of light and shadow, of 
 tempest, calm, and sunshine a vast, deep, wild 
 ebb and flow of hope. The future changes, and 
 brightens, and sinks in gloom, as facts break 
 through the mist, and melt away again with the 
 breath of the witness or the magic of the orator. 
 The truth resembles a mountain-peak enveloped 
 in clouds : now the billowy vapours bury its 
 sharp outlines in gloom ; again the breeze wafts 
 them away, and leaves its airy and unbroken sum- 
 mit shining in the sun. Thus had the prospect of 
 the prisoner, his character and his crime, appeared 
 to the spectators and jury, till, under the trans- 
 forming wand of Moreland, they beheld the dark- 
 ness vanish. The prisoner himself was softened.
 
 244 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 His noble and handsome face yielded to the illu- 
 mination of hope and joy. Mr. Remain went up 
 to him and spoke words of kindness ; and the 
 sister and father hung breathless and almost gasp- 
 ing upon the music and the magic of the speaker's 
 lips. 
 
 " Gentlemen," continued the orator, " at length, 
 at this late hour, exhausted as you must be 
 with your arduous duties, perhaps I should desist 
 from further trespassing on your time. But I 
 remember with a shudder that mine are the last 
 words of defence and of hope which the prisoner 
 at the bar may ever hear. I start at the tremen- 
 dous responsibility, and almost sink beneath it. 
 But faith, hope, justice, and mercy whisper me to 
 proceed. The life of an innocent human being, of 
 an amiable and affectionate son, of a beloved bro- 
 ther, of a citizen of this republic, is at stake. It is 
 my sacred duty to defend ; it is your solemn pro- 
 vince to judge. A word from your lips launches 
 him into eternity. If he be guilty, I do not ask his 
 life. Though his sister's heart will break at the 
 blow, though his father's silvery forehead will 
 bend down to a dishonoured grave, though a 
 youth, invested with a thousand noble qualities, 
 will be cut off from repentance and hope for ever, 
 yet, if he be guilty, I do not ask his life. But, 
 by your own hopes as fathers, as friends, as m&ft 
 by the peace which you love on your pillow and in 
 your dying hour by the sanctity of innocence and 
 the rebuking anger of Heaven I conjure you to 
 pause and tremble ere you do find him guilty. It 
 has been alleged against me this day that I am 
 privately a friend to the prisoner. It has been 
 charged upon me as an odium, in ridicule and 
 scorn. I appeal to your own bosoms : who so 
 well as a friend should be able to judge of his char- 
 acter ? who so well know his ways of thinking and
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 245 
 
 acting ? Is friendship to be a stigma as we have 
 this day beheld the heart-broken love of a sister 
 a jest, and a mockery ? 
 
 " As for my own belief, I solemnly declare be- 
 fore you, and before Him who knows all hearts, 
 that, after the most indefatigable examination of the 
 circumstances during a much longer period of 
 time than you have been able to devote, I believe 
 the accused totally innocent. When you consider, 
 gentlemen, the extraordinary facts of the case ; the 
 character of the prisoner ; the accidental and 
 public nature of the fatal and mysterious ride ; his 
 demeanour subsequently ; the fact that Miss Tem- 
 ple saw Rosalie Remain in the evening; you must 
 acknowledge that his guilt is doubtful. The black- 
 est doubt still hangs upon the whole affair. It is 
 doubtful whether the murder has been committed ; 
 it is doubtful whether the prisoner is the perpe- 
 trator. Miss Remain might have fallen by another 
 hand ; she may have perished by her own ; she 
 may have fled. The law commands you only to- 
 find a verdict in case of certainty ; are you cer- 
 tain ? Are you even certain that Rosalie Romain 
 is dead ? Who has identified the body ? Is there 
 a single person who can prove her decease ? Miss 
 Romain, at some future time, may reappear before 
 you. What horror would shade your future 
 years ! I call upon you now, while yet in your 
 power, to save your souls from such a grievous 
 burden. I warn you of the innocence of the pris- 
 oner. In a few moments you will be compelled 
 to decide. The doom of death, gentlemen, is 
 mighty, is tremendous, is irrevocable. You may 
 extinguish a light which can never be relumed ; 
 you may, in one moment, perpetrate an action 
 which all the years of your future life may be too 
 short and too few to sufficiently regret. Before I 
 yield the floor to my adversaries, let me also warn 
 x 2
 
 246 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 you against their ardour and their sophistry. 
 They possess the prerogative of directing against 
 you the last appeal. I tremble lest the cunning of 
 art and eloquence may baffle and blind the truth. 
 I have already shuddered to hear the noblest vir- 
 tues derided. They have already told you that 
 education, refinement, a warm heart, and an un- 
 spotted character are the attributes of crime and 
 the signals for suspicion. I watch the progress of 
 their insidious attacks upon your reason with the 
 most unalloyed and intolerable solicitude and dis- 
 tress. Error, gentlemen, may lurk on either side ; 
 but the error of one is ghastly and fatal, damning 
 to yourselves and all concerned ; while that of the 
 other if, indeed, error there be-^would, even in 
 its fallacy, approach the benign spirit of that Re- 
 deemer who looked with pity upon the woes of 
 earth, and who said, even unto the most abai> 
 doned, ' Go, and sin no more.' " 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 The Verdict-^Midnight Scene in a Court of Justice. 
 
 "Hark! Hush! Be still! They come. 
 One moment, and 'tis o'er." 
 
 IT is a mournful thing to turn from the last cling- 
 ing hope and defence of the accused, to the cold, 
 severe, exaggerating attacks of the prosecution. 
 Perhaps there never was a case upon a capital 
 offence, where the eloquence and ingenuity of the 
 defendant's counsel did not strike out upon the
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 247 
 
 misery of the accused some bright sparks of hope. 
 The mass of evidence cannot be borne in mind at 
 once. A perception of the truth often requires a 
 series of deliberate and abstruse arguments, which 
 the audience never discover, or fail to retain amid 
 the confusion of evidence and the instinct of mercy. 
 The sight of a criminal, too, when his punishment 
 seems certain, softens the heart to pity, and pre- 
 pares it to magnify and dwell upon the grounds of 
 hope. An ingenious orator, in an artful survey of 
 the case, lingers with disproportionate force upon 
 the favourable circumstances, and leaves the more 
 unexplainable and condemnatory parts in the 
 shade. For a moment the sky of the accused 
 brightens ; the roaring of the tempest is lulled ; 
 his half-wrecked mind rests as the surrounding sea 
 of doubt and despair closes its yawning abysses, 
 and he beholds again the green and sunny shore 
 where safety and bliss await his weary steps. Ab, 
 delusive calm ! ah, treacherous hope ! An awful 
 pause succeeds the words of mercy and hope. 
 Dreadful the task of him who has to dissolve this 
 vision ! 
 
 The prosecution commenced their duty. As their 
 skilful batteries were opened against the victim, the 
 brightness passed from his features ; one after an- 
 other his hopes melted away ; the relentless tem- 
 pest darkened over his head ; the mad wind began 
 to roar and thunder in the air ; his broken hulk 
 once more hung on the uplifted and giant wave ; 
 the distant shore receded from his despairing eyes, 
 and he felt that ruin and death again yawned be- 
 neath his feet. 
 
 Two experienced, unfeeling, and sagacious law- 
 yers exhausted their powers in demonstrating the 
 guilt of the accused, in which they both fully and 
 conscientiously believed. Germain wove around 
 him the meshes of sophistry, and rendered it once
 
 248 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 more a glaring certainty ; and the district attorney 
 closed with a startling eloquence. 
 
 The orator allowed the prisoner's apparent 
 good character ; allowed the horrid spectacle of a 
 youth so formed to adorn society cut off and 
 crushed beneath a fate so terrible. But these con- 
 siderations, he said, severely, were not for the 
 jury-box. Let them deepen the interest of a poem, 
 or embellish the pages of a novel ; but a tribunal 
 of justice had a sterner task than the indulgence of 
 feeling, however amiable. That the murder had 
 been committed, every circumstance proclaimed. 
 The ride ; the disappearance ; the blood-stained 
 handkerchief; the hat floating abandoned on the 
 stream ; the body as far as the testimony of 
 credible witnesses go identified as that of Rosa- 
 lie Remain ; the confusion of the assassin ; his 
 conduct on the arrest ; the evidence of the female 
 domestic, respecting the demeanour of the unfor- 
 tunate victim ; her clandestinely meeting the pris- 
 oner at that suspicious hour of the morning ; 
 every thing, as far as human proof could, pro- 
 claimed the dreadful act, and the deep cunning of 
 the prisoner. " What proof can you demand of 
 murder ? It is a deed which the perpetrator com- 
 mits alone. He comes not into the broad streets, 
 where positive evidence can be produced against 
 him. He steals, with stealthy pace, in darkness 
 and solitude ; he disguises his intention under 
 smiles and the mask of virtue ; he plants the dag- 
 ger in a moment unseen by all by all but his 
 avenging God. Murder rarely admits evidence 
 stronger than that produced against this man. If 
 you acquit him upon the principle of doubt, future 
 assassins have only to stab in solitude and they will 
 stab in safety. We shall behold shameless sedu- 
 cers and murderers walking among us unwhipped 
 of justice. Leave crime unpunished, and you
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 249 
 
 open the floodgates through which devastation and 
 despair rush in upon the retreats of domestic life. 
 The pity which makes you tremble at inflicting a 
 necessary penalty, which causes you to yield to 
 the pleadings of compassion, and to melt at the 
 sight of guilt bound on the altar to forget law, 
 society, the claims of the innocent, and the just 
 indignation and agony of the bereaved, rather 
 than speak the word and strike the blow to which 
 you have pledged your oaths, and which great 
 justice demands is a weak, an idle, a pernicious 
 feeling, full of danger and deceit, unworthy of 
 fathers, citizens, men. You are the guardians of 
 the community. To your hands she has com- 
 mitted her safety ; and, with such a feeling in your 
 bosoms, will you betray your trust? She has 
 placed you as sentinels on her walls and at her 
 gates ; do not kneel and admit the foe which you 
 are sent to overcome. Had the gaunt form of 
 murder stalked in unabashed and unintimidated 
 amid the gayety of your own festive board, had 
 your startled eyes suddenly beheld him vanish, 
 and lo ! the brightest seat at the banquet is left 
 vacant, had you beheld the demon who had thus 
 bereaved and "made you desolate for ever, stride 
 unfearing and unabashed through the midday 
 streets, triumphing in his deed, and, perhaps, 
 grown bold by experience, meditating to repeat it, 
 because, forsooth, the shrinking sensibilities of a 
 too sentimental jury could not harden their hearts 
 to arrest his career, you would feel as you ought 
 to feel on this solemn occasion. The hospitality 
 of friendship, the rights of society, the laws of 
 man and of God have been grossly violated by the 
 unhappy criminal at the bar. The perpetration of 
 the deed has been proven, and the guilt has been 
 fastened upon him, as far as human proof can lead 
 the human reason.
 
 250 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 " The gentlemen on the other side harp much on 
 the idea of doubt. It is doubt which is to bring off 
 their wretched client. Their only hope is doubt. 
 It is the last inevitable refuge of the defenders of a 
 bad cause. If they can make you doubt, if they 
 can entangle and cloud over, if they can envelop 
 in mystery, if they can bewilder you in doubt, they 
 fancy their triumph secure. But you must dis- 
 tinguish between the just doubt arising from a de- 
 ficiency of evidence, and that confused sense of in- 
 distinctness which only those experience whose 
 eyesight is failing between the doubt of a firm 
 and of a foolish mind. Doubt you might conceive 
 on every subject. There are not wanting meta- 
 physicians who assert that nothing ever was, is, 
 or ever can be certain. You may doubt the evi- 
 dence of your eyes and ears ; you may bewilder 
 your mind amid endless mazes and metaphysical 
 conjectures ; you may doubt that you sit there to 
 judge, that I stand here to proclaim, a heinous 
 and a hideous sin ; all around us may be but the 
 phantoms of a fever or the forms of a passing 
 dream. But this species of doubt, so equally appli- 
 cable to the most feeble and the most overpower- 
 ing proof, is not the doubt which becomes your 
 manly souls. The cunning of a persuasive tongue 
 will not be able to betray your matured under- 
 standings into such childish, such fantastic vagaries. 
 Such doubts would dispute all law, all justice. 
 This court would be a mockery and an idle farce ; 
 vainly would wronged misery apply here for re- 
 dress ; justice would be but the theme of derision 
 and scorn. The ruffian would smile at the uplifted 
 sword of the goddess, which her degenerate hand 
 durst never wield, till men, grown once more wild 
 and savage, and knowing no other remedy for pri- 
 vate injury, will assume again the reins of affairs, 
 which the authorities are unworthy and unable to
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 251 
 
 hold. A Gothic spirit of revenge will displace the 
 mildness of civilization ; youth, innocence, and de- 
 fenceless beauty will yield their breasts to the 
 dagger, and the whole mass of society will be re- 
 solved into its original elements of anarchy and 
 discord. < 
 
 "No, gentlemen, in your characters as stern and 
 unyielding sentinels of the public safety, I call 
 upon you to speak the dreadful doom against 
 yonder sinful man. He has sown, let him reap. 
 If you would not have your wives, sisters, mothers, 
 and daughters murdered before your faces, speak, 
 promptly, fearlessly, and solemnly, the fatal ver- 
 dict. However man may exclaim, and attempt 
 to affright you from your duty, remember the 
 Almighty himself has said, ' Blood for blood!'" 
 
 Again, as the counsel sat down, the silence was 
 simultaneously broken by a wide peal of applause; 
 from bench and floor, pedestal and column, wherever 
 the mighty throng of human beings had clustered 
 and pressed themselves densely in together, came 
 the murmur and the shock of approbation, too 
 plainly announcing the public sanction of the pris- 
 oner's doom. Several persons were committed 
 for this breach of decorum. 
 
 The charge of the judge was short and lucid, 
 and wholly confined to the evidence. He reviewed 
 it calmly, and instructed the jury to find the fact 
 of the murder according to their opinion on the 
 testimony, with this reserve, that if they were 
 " not fully satisfied, beyond a doubt, they must find 
 for the prisoner." 
 
 With the necessary formalities, the jury were 
 conducted into their private room ; and an hour 
 passed, during which curiosity kept together, prob- 
 ably, every individual of the vast multitude. 
 
 At length the court prepared to adjourn, and
 
 252 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 the prisoner had been already ordered back to 
 prison, when it was announced that the jury had 
 agreed upon a verdict* There was a hum among 
 the concourse relaxed attention was again sud- 
 denly and fearfully roused. The jury entered, 
 silent and solemn themselves, amid the silence and 
 solemnity of all around. This is a moment of ex- 
 cruciating interest. The most light and careless 
 spectator feels it drain his heart, and suspend his 
 very being. What must it be to him whom one 
 moment more is to plunge into eternity, or to give 
 back in triumph to life and happiness ! Many an 
 eye turned upon the jurors to detect in their 
 countenances, in their gait, in some casual action, 
 a hint of that mighty secret locked in their bosoms. 
 Many an eye was riveted upon the face of the pris- 
 oner, to study how he bore that tremendous mo- 
 ment, how humanity stood to gaze amid life full on 
 the grim and spectral features of death. 
 
 The names of the jurymen were regularly called 
 amid a profound silence. Not a motion, not a 
 breath, disturbed the deep hush. The clerk re- 
 quested the prisoner to rise. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury, look upon the prisoner. 
 Prisoner, look upon the jury. Have you agreed 
 upon your verdict?" 
 
 We have." 
 
 " How say you, gentlemen ? Do you find him 
 guilty or not guilty V 
 
 There was a pause, as if the very pulse of life 
 stood still. It was thrilling and painful all leaned 
 forward, a shuddering sound of agony, short and 
 checked, broke from the lips of Miss Leslie. All 
 eyes dilated and fastened on the foreman, except 
 one or two, who looked piercingly, and yet with 
 horror, upon the face of the prisoner. At that mo- 
 ment the clock tolled three, with a heavy sweep of
 
 NORMAN LESLIE. 
 
 sound that floated in quivering waves through the 
 hall. Its last vibration died away, and the foreman 
 spoke. 
 
 " Not guilty." 
 
 " God God 1" cried the sister, with a shriek of 
 joy, while an electric shock darted through the 
 crowd, and broke the spell of silence. The prose- 
 cuting counsel started up the clerk repeated it 
 aloud, with surprise. Moreland clasped his hands, 
 with a report that echoed through the room. Mr. 
 Romain covered his face. Mordaunt Leslie raised 
 his hands and eyes to Heaven in silent prayer. 
 
 In the midst of this sudden universal jar and 
 lively commotion, the accused stood in the same 
 attitude, fixed and motionless all eyes again cen- 
 tred upon him. 
 
 " Norman !" cried the sister, with an hysteric 
 laugh, and springing towards him " dear Nor- 
 man, hear ! You are acquitted you are guilt- 
 less you are free !" 
 
 But the youth neither stirred limb nor feature. 
 At length a slight tremour, a quivering passed 
 over his face, a shade of ghastlier white, a faint 
 sob, a convulsive effort to laugh and he fell back 
 senseless into his father's arms. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 1952 
 
 AUG201952: 
 
 THB E1BKARV 
 
 PNIVERSITY OF CA 
 
 LOS
 
 Urwersity of California. Los Angeles 
 
 llilllii 
 
 L 005 414 931 5