Cora and The Doctor Part 46

"'The very next day, he wanted another vest; and I refused downright to send again.'

"Did he specify any one in particular?"

"'Yes; he said he wanted a new checked satin one, hanging in his wardrobe.'

"I had heard enough; and bidding the jailer good morning, I stopped at the court-room only long enough to take a sheriff, and proceeded to Lee Hall. Without imparting my suspicions to my companion or to the keeper of the house, I merely told them that I wished once more to examine the room occupied by Mr. Colby; and notwithstanding the doubt of finding anything new, expressed by the keeper, I walked straight to the wardrobe, and took down every vest hanging there.

"After laying them upon the bed, I proceeded, (not very deliberately, I confess) to examine the pockets and to see if I could discover any inner pockets. But no, the keeper standing by said, as I laid one down after another, 'them are clothes has all undergone a thorough _castigation_, and there ha'n't nothing been found in 'em.'

"Hardly knowing why, I took up again the thick black satin vest, and walked to the window. My heart almost stopped beating, as I saw that a slit had been cut in the lining, and carefully sewed up again. Quick as lightning, I cut the thread, put in my fingers, drew out the very doc.u.ment of which I was in search, and the note of hand within it. I sprang full two feet from the floor, as I discovered the treasure, and my companions echoed and reechoed my shout of delight. I hastened to the court-room with my important reb.u.t.ting testimony," said he with a smile, "and you know the result."

Allen Mansfield was so excited during this relation that he had to sit down two or three times, and then forgetting himself he started from his seat. When Mr. Willard had finished his remarkable story, he found that his circle of hearers had greatly increased since the commencement of his narrative. Not only Mr. Marshall, the Attorney General, the Counsellors for the defence, and a score of Reporters but the Judge from the bench had pressed around him to learn how so important a mystery had been revealed. He then received the warm congratulations of all his a.s.sociates at the bar, for his success, and at the favorable termination of the suit.

Mr. Mansfield begged the Doctor and myself to communicate the result of the trial to Lucy. We did so, but found her suffering so severely from nervous excitement, that my husband judged it wiser to avoid particulars, and merely to inform her that the suit had resulted in her favor. A deep sigh, with the words, "Oh! my poor brother Joseph!" were all her reply.

It was now past three o'clock, and I hastened to my babies, and communicated the sad story to mother. In consequence of losing my sleep the previous night, I did not rise till quite late on Thursday morning.

When I went below, a man was just leaving the hall; and as Frank shut the door after him, I heard him say, "Oh! how shocking!" He immediately prepared to go out.

"My dear husband," I said, "something dreadful has happened, I perceive by your looks. Don't be afraid to tell me. I fear Lucy"--

"No! _No!!_" said he, interrupting me, "I have heard nothing from her.

Don't be alarmed. I shall soon be back."

He had been gone nearly an hour, when a messenger came in great haste for him to go to Mr. Mansfield's--Lucy was in a dreadful swoon. I ran down to inquire more particularly, and to direct him to go to the office for the Doctor, when he told me the horrid catastrophe. Joseph Lee had been found dead in his cell, having hung himself from a large hook driven into the wall and used to hang up a coat or a hat.

With mother's advice, I proceeded immediately to Mr. Mansfield's, where I found every thing in the utmost confusion. Servants were running to and fro; some crying, some trying to soothe others, while Emily and her sweet little brothers were the only ones who remained calm. I stopped a moment to speak to them in the nursery, when the dear girl said, "I'm trying to keep my brothers quiet, because mamma is very sick."

I hastened to their mother's chamber, where my husband was leaning over his patient, applying the most powerful restoratives, while her agitated husband and Mrs. Burns were putting stimulants to her hands and feet.

Not a pulse throbbed--no sign of life appeared. The Doctor repeatedly held a small mirror before her face, but was unable to discover the least breath. But at length, with a deep sigh from her over-burdened heart, she very gradually recovered her consciousness.

All stood back from her view except her physician. Poor Allen, with tears streaming down his cheeks, dared not show himself. The sufferer was soon able to take a little camphor and water, and without letting her see me, I returned to the children. Summoning the nurse, I told her if she would dress her young charge, I would send for them to pa.s.s the day with my little ones; and not waiting for my husband, I returned home.

That was on Thursday morning, the time appointed by the Judge, for the prisoners to receive their sentence. When the jailer went to carry them their breakfast, he ascertained that one of them was beyond the reach of any earthly tribunal. He had rushed unbidden, into the presence of his great Judge. Hastening to the other cell, and almost fearing to enter, lest he should find him in a similar condition, he ascertained that he was raving incoherently from a fever, and hastily sent for the Doctor.

His disease proved to be a violent congestion of the brain; and it still remains very doubtful whether he will recover.

A coroner's jury was called to sit on the body of Joseph, and rendered a verdict of death by suicide. The Doctor says he cannot see how he could have succeeded in his attempt. He had hooked his cloak around his neck, and then hung it upon the hook on the wall by one of the eyes which fastened it together. He had been dead some hours, and probably terminated his life soon after dark, though from the examination it appeared that he must have been a long time in the agonies of death. His face was almost black, and his hands tightly clenched. _So died Joseph Lee!_ The vast wealth of which he had so unrighteously possessed himself, what now was that to him? It would only fill his soul with enduring agony and remorse.

_Friday, November 22d._

Emily Lenox Mansfield, with her twin brothers Charlie and Harry, have this morning left us to go home. I feel quite lonely without them. Emily is a most engaging child of six years of age. Her eyes filled with tears as she parted with Pauline, who has been extremely kind and obliging to her little visitors. I promised that she should soon spend a day with them, now that their mother is getting stronger. Mrs. Mansfield was very ill for several days after hearing of her brother's dreadful end. She recovered from one fainting fit only to fall into another. I think Frank became really alarmed at last; but she is now much better, and able to sit up two or three hours in a day.

She has never asked a question about the result of the trial, and is still unacquainted with the shocking detail. The Doctor fearing lest she should hear of it suddenly, told her yesterday of the death of Oscar Colby, which occurred night before last. My husband has visited him twice every day in his cell, hoping to find an opportunity, if his reason should return, to point him to his crucified Saviour. But alas!

no such season presented itself. The poor man never appeared to be conscious, not even for a moment, after he was found so ill the day after the trial.

One fact will interest you much. _The distillery is closed for ever._ Mr. Mansfield intends to convert it into a large warehouse.

Lee Hall is undergoing repairs, and early in the spring, I suppose we shall lose our loved neighbors, who will go to the old homestead. Jacob Strong and Sarah Brown will go back with them. Mrs. Burns and Maria Keyes have always remained in the family. I believe I express the feelings of the whole community when I say, that I am delighted that such persons as Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield have come into the possession of so valuable an estate. I know, they feel themselves to be but stewards, and that they will hereafter be called to render an account of their stewardship.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

"All is not here of our belov'd and blessed,-- Leave ye the sleeper with his G.o.d to rest!" MRS. HEMANS.

_Wednesday, October 15th, 1845._

My dearly loved mother,--How can I express words of sympathy to you, when my heart is so full of grief on my own account, from such a loss as I can never experience but once, _the loss of a father_.

To lose a parent under any circ.u.mstances is a heavy affliction; but to lose such a father, and to be unable to administer to his comfort, by his sick bed; to receive and treasure the words of love and wisdom which fall from his lips,--to hear his last prayer, and receive his last blessing, is indeed a sorrow heavy to be borne. You, my dear my only surviving parent, have one source of comfort, which though it may at present aggravate the loss you have sustained, will yet be an unspeakable blessing to you; and that is in the precious memories of your dear husband. These remembrances of the past, how will you live in them after the first poignancy of your grief has abated; how greatly will they sustain you.

I can truly say, that not one unpleasant word, not one unholy expression comes up to disturb the hallowed remembrance of my dearly loved father.

On the contrary, every hard feeling is softened, every unkind thought subdued, when I think of his meek, loving spirit, and recollect his words of love toward all mankind. "Dear, _dear_ father! And shall I never see thee more? never more gaze into thy mild blue eyes, and see the looks of parental fondness beaming there--never more feel thy warm embrace, or hear thy gentle voice say, 'my daughter!'"

Ah! in the midnight hour I see _thee_ oft, And hear thy voice-- Thy mingled words of love and tenderness.

And thou dost point me to the promis'd land, Where now thou dwell'st-- The better land of never ending bliss.

My dear mother, if anything earthly could alleviate a sorrow like mine, it is the hope, though yet faint, that I shall ere long look upon your dear face and from your own lips hear the answer to the many questions my heart yearns to ask. Do not disappoint me. Have I not a claim upon you for a few years? I can antic.i.p.ate one objection you will feel in leaving the spot consecrated as the resting place of your beloved husband. But, dear mother, _he_ is not there. He is with his Saviour, and the throne of grace is as near us in America as in England.

My dear Frank is almost as earnest in this request as I am, and will meet you in New York, if Isabel or Nelly will go with you to Liverpool and put you in charge of some one coming direct to that place. I long to show you my treasures. Pauline you will love as if she were your own; and Nelly's face is wreathed in smiles at the name of grand-mamma Gordon. Franky is a merry, joyous little fellow, who wins his way to every heart. He holds out his arms to any one who comes in, and never was the old adage, "love begets love," more true than in his case; for many persons who are not in the habit of noticing children, are so well pleased at the readiness with which the child concludes them to be friends, that they are never weary of praising him.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

"In the joy of a well ordered home, be warned that this is not your rest; For the substance to come may be forgotten in the present beauty of the shadow." TUPPER.

_Tuesday, August 6th, 1850._

We were rejoiced, dear mother, to hear of your safe arrival at home, and the hearty welcome you received from your children and grand-children.

With Isabel's four, and Nelly's two little ones, you really have quite a flock. I wish they could all be together once. I long to have my children acquainted with their English cousins.

Pauline is quite inclined to commence a correspondence with Isabel's Ernest. You were so much pleased with her perfect simplicity and artlessness of character, I will relate a little incident which occurred since you left. The Doctor and myself were invited to a small party at Mr. Mansfield's, and as has often occurred of late, Pauline was included in the invitation.

She met there quite a number of young ladies of her own age, as well as many older persons. In the course of the evening music was called for, and some of the young ladies were requested to play upon the piano or harp. Misses upon whom hundreds of dollars had been expended for instruction in music, and who had been daily practising for many years, now refused to gratify their parents, or friends, by an effort to play.

One young lady "couldn't think of it," and with a great affectation of modesty, "never could play if any one was by." This same young lady in the course of the evening, not only _did_ play, after being sufficiently urged to do so, but laughed so loud that her rudeness arrested the attention of all present. Another young miss had a "very bad cold;" the cold however subsided after sufficient pleading to sing from a young gentleman near her.

But I was intending to speak of my simple-hearted Pauline. She appeared much astonished at the unwillingness to oblige, which these young girls manifested; and when one of the company said, "here is a young lady, who, I think, will give us some music," she very gracefully walked to the piano-forte, pleasantly saying, "I shall be very happy to oblige you." She played, by her own selection, some simple pieces which she accompanied with her sweet voice.

The lady was moved to tears, while the young people crowded around her, eagerly asking for more. She willingly complied, and played one piece after another as they were selected for her, and with such beauty of expression and even brilliancy in the execution, that I was not only delighted by her sweet manner, but proud of the success of my first pupil.