The cluster of
little belles opened as I advanced.
Heavens and earth! whom should I perceive in the midst of them, but my
early and tormenting flame, the everlasting Sacharissa! She was grown
up, it is true, into the full beauty of womanhood, but showed by the
provoking merriment of her countenance, that she perfectly recollected
me, and the ridiculous flagellations of which she had twice been the
cause.
I saw at once the exterminating cloud of ridicule that was bursting
over me. My crest fell. The flame of love went suddenly out in my
bosom; or was extinguished by overwhelming shame. How I got down the
room I know not; I fancied every one tittering at me. Just as I reached
the door, I caught a glance of my mistress and her aunt, listening to
the whispers of my poetic rival; the old lady raising her hands and
eyes, and the face of the young one lighted up with scorn ineffable. I
paused to see no more; but made two steps from the top of the stairs to
the bottom. The next morning, before sunrise, I beat a retreat; and did
not feel the blushes cool from my tingling cheeks until I had lost
sight of the old towers of the cathedral.
I now returned to town thoughtful and crestfallen. My money was nearly
spent, for I had lived freely and without calculation. The dream of
love was over, and the reign of pleasure at an end. I determined to
retrench while I had yet a trifle left; so selling my equipage and
horses for half their value, I quietly put the money in my pocket and
turned pedestrian. I had not a doubt that, with my great expectations,
I could at any time raise funds, either on usury or by borrowing; but I
was principled against both one and the other; and resolved, by strict
economy, to make my slender purse hold out, until my uncle should give
up the ghost; or rather, the estate.
I stayed at home, therefore, and read, and would have written; but I
had already suffered too much from my poetical productions, which had
generally involved me in some ridiculous scrape. I gradually acquired a
rusty look, and had a straightened, money-borrowing air, upon which the
world began to shy me. I have never felt disposed to quarrel with the
world for its conduct. It has always used me well. When I have been
flush, and gay, and disposed for society, it has caressed me; and when
I have been pinched, and reduced, and wished to be alone, why, it has
left me alone, and what more could a man desire? - Take my word for it,
this world is a more obliging world than people generally represent it.
Well, sir, in the midst of my retrenchment, my retirement, and my
studiousness, I received news that my uncle was dangerously ill. I
hastened on the wings of an heir's affection to receive his dying
breath and his last testament. I found him attended by his faithful
valet, old Iron John; by the woman who occasionally worked about the
house; and by the foxy-headed boy, young Orson, whom I had occasionally
hunted about the park.
Iron John gasped a kind of asthmatical salutation as I entered the
room, and received me with something almost like a smile of welcome.
The woman sat blubbering at the foot of the bed; and the foxy-headed
Orson, who had now grown to be a lubberly lout, stood gazing in stupid
vacancy at a distance.
My uncle lay stretched upon his back. The chamber was without a fire,
or any of the comforts of a sick-room. The cobwebs flaunted from the
ceiling. The tester was covered with dust, and the curtains were
tattered. From underneath the bed peeped out one end of his strong box.
Against the wainscot were suspended rusty blunderbusses, horse pistols,
and a cut-and-thrust sword, with which he had fortified his room to
defend his life and treasure. He had employed no physician during his
illness, and from the scanty relics lying on the table, seemed almost
to have denied himself the assistance of a cook.
When I entered the room he was lying motionless; with his eyes fixed
and his mouth open; at the first look I thought him a corpse. The noise
of my entrance made him turn his head. At the sight of me a ghastly
smile came over his face, and his glazing eye gleamed with
satisfaction. It was the only smile he had ever given me, and it went
to my heart. "Poor old man!" thought I, "why would you not let me love
you? - Why would you force me to leave you thus desolate, when I see
that my presence has the power to cheer you?"
"Nephew," said he, after several efforts, and in a low gasping voice
- "I am glad you are come. I shall now die with satisfaction. Look,"
said he, raising his withered hand and pointing - "look - in that box on
the table you will find that I have not forgotten you."
I pressed his hand to my heart, and the tears stood in my eyes. I sat
down by his bed-side, and watched him, but he never spoke again. My
presence, however, gave him evident satisfaction - for every now and
then, as he looked at me, a vague smile would come over his visage, and
he would feebly point to the sealed box on the table. As the day wore
away, his life seemed to wear away with it. Towards sunset, his hand
sunk on the bed and lay motionless; his eyes grew glazed; his mouth
remained open, and thus he gradually died.
