"Madness you may call it, Cæsar, but I am not mad. I loved you, and you scorned me; I hated you, cursed you, and in an hour of rage threw my hand away upon a wretch whom I despise, detest, execrate! I cannot be your wife-I will be your page-your mistress-your menial; I will follow you, live with you, die for you; but, Cæsar, only love me; for without your love, life is not endurable!" My father marked the wildness of her eye, and saw that she was fearfully agitated. The position in which he found himself was indeed alarming. "Harriette," he exclaimed, "by Heaven! you will be the ruin of both! Leave me-for your own sake-for mine-for one's who gave up home and father for me. I adjure you to leave this room-stay, and we are lost-we, and one beside who is guileless." 66 She paused irresolutely-her eyes flashed lightnings. Was she again despised? The thought maddened, and her heart throbbed almost to bursting. There was a long pause. "Yes-I will leave you! Cold, cruel, heartless as you are -I cannot curse you, Cæsar," and her wild looks softened and she melted into tears. May you never feel the miserythe madness, that I do!" she almost fainted; she would have spoken, but her words found no utterance, while frequent sobs betrayed the inward storm that racked her bosom. My father could not witness such distress insensibly; his softer nature was touched-his weak, but human heart, gave way; he supported her in his arms-he placed her on the sofa-he brought her water-he talked and reasoned—and two o'clock found the erring fair one in his chamber. "Harriette, farewell!" he said, as he pressed her to his heart!" "May God forgive us!" "Amen!" a deep revengeful voice responded, and Donovan stood in the door-way. He was dressed and armed. Presenting at my unfortunate father, at but three paces' distance, he drew the trigger-the bullet took effect-and Cæsar Blake fell upon the floor mortally wounded! A dreadful commotion ensued. Harriette, the cause of all, fled shrieking to her chamber, while the murderer rushed down-stairs. His horse was waiting at the door; and long before the horror-stricken household could comprehend the meaning of the alarm, the homicide was far beyond pursuit. Accident brought on this tragedy. Donovan, unhappily, found little delay in Galway, and less difficulty in traversing the cross-roads than he had anticipated when he left Castle Blake. In the evening he reached the intermediate town, in which he had purposed stopping; but induced by the earliness of the hour, he determined to push forward. His own apartment was in the same wing of the building in which that of Cæsar Blake was situated. The hour was late-all was quiet-but from one window a light appeared-and that was in the chamber of his enemy. What kept him waking? He held his breath-dark suspicions crossed his mind-he gazed with starting eyes, and he saw a female form shadowed on the wall. Her arms were round the neck, her head was resting on the bosom of his enemy! He rushed up-stairs, opened his own chamber and found it deserted! The rest is known. His wife's infidelity was discovered; and Cæsar Blake fell a martyr to the feebleness of man's resolution, and the madness of woman's love! He was thy hope thy joy-thy love—thine all, Burst forth in one wild cry, and all was still! Five bits of lead, Or three, or two, or one, send very far! Bride of Abydos. Don Juan. The consternation of the sleeping inmates of the castle, when awakened by the report of fire-arms and the loud outcries of the first domestics who entered the chamber of the dying man, is not to be described; and never was there a wilder scene of tumult and horror than the house now presented. The shrieks of women, the imprecations of men, were everywhere heard, while some were calling for assistance, and others raving for revenge. Manus Blake, who had been among the foremost to reach the apartment of his unfortunate brother, raised him from the floor, and laid him gently on the bed. The surgeon of a dragoon regiment, who happened to be of the number of the guests, having cleared the chamber of the crowd, proceeded to examine my father's wound. A hasty inspection satisfied him that the injury was mortal, and one glance told Manus Blake that his favourite brother was doomed to fill an untimely grave. ExVOL. I.-11. presses were sent off in various directions, additional surgical assistance procured, and the curate of the parish despatched to break the melancholy tidings to my mother, and convey her without delay to Castle Blake, to bid an eternal farewell to him in whom her every hope of earthly happiness centred. It would be a useless and painful detail to describe the ȧgony of grief with which my mother received the fatal news, though gently and gradually communicated. At times, during the melancholy journey, her faculties appeared to be paralyzed by the excess of her misery; and for miles she remained in stupid, silent astonishment, as if feeling and perception had been overwhelmed, and extinguished altogether. Then, as if suddenly awaking to a consciousness of her wretchedness, a fit of frenzy would succeed this mute and torpid apathy, venting itself in piercing shrieks, until, exhausted, she fainted in the arms of the clergyman and her female attendant. It was during the wildest of these bursts of anguish, that a carriage was passing that which bore the hapless mourner to her husband's death-bed. The early traveller-for morning was but breaking-appeared impatient of delay, and, from the narrowness of the road, a momentary stop was necessary, to allow the vehicles to proceed without collision. The interruption was noticed by those within, and the blinds, which had been drawn down, were for an instant raised. Great God? what must have been the feelings of her who occupied that gay equipage, as shriek succeeded shriek from the carriage that impeded her's? That frantic mourner was the woman whose happiness she had blasted-whom she widowed-whose babe she made an orphan-for the early traveller was Harriette Donovan, hurrying from the scene of misery and blood which her unholy love had caused. When the fatal decision of the surgeon was communicated to Cæsar Blake, he bore it with manly resignation. At his earnest request, the room was cleared of all except his broth er and a clergyman, who had hastened to offer spiritual consolation to the dying soldier. What passed was never known, farther than that the wounded man consigned his wife and child to his brother's protection, and exacted a solemn promise that no vindictive proceedings should be pursued against his murderer. The interview was long and melancholy; and when the surgeons were again admitted, Manus Blake exhibited tokens of the deepest sorrow, while The night the minister of peace was totally unmanned. wore through; morning broke; momentarily Cæsar Blake became feebler; it was evident to all, that the hour of dissolution was approaching, and it became questionable whether the fading spark would hold out much longer, and enable the drooping soldier to take his last farewell of one, on whom, even amid the agonies of a painful departure, all his thoughts turned. 66 'Manus," said my father, in a feeble voice," has morning dawned sufficiently to permit you to see the gate?" "Yes, my dearest brother; compose yourself, Ellen will soon be here." "Would that she were!" replied the dying man. Remember, Manus-you know my last wish, and you will be all to my poor wife and my orphan child?" 66 They shall be dear to me as a cherished sister and as an only boy!" and the iron nerves of my uncle could not control his emotions, while big tears stole down his manly cheek. "Enough!" said my father, "I die contented. Oh, Ellen! could I but breathe my last sigh upon thy bosom-couldst thou but listen to my dying words, invoking blessings on thee and thy poor boy?" "Compose yourself, dearest Cæsar, Ellen will be here immediately;" and a slight confusion in the chamber, announced the expected arrival. The mourner's carriage had entered the grand entrance, and was seen at a rapid pace proceeding down the avenue. It was well for the poor sufferer that she was insensible to every thing around, or the present fearful visit would have formed a dreadful contrast to that joyous evening on which she first entered the portal of Castle Blake. The stopping of the carriage partially recalled her memory, and she wildly inquired" where she was?" But when the lofty figure of Manus Blake presented itself, his features marked with intense grief, every fear was realized--the full consciousness of misery returned-she uttered a piercing and sustained shriek of anguish, that reached the chamber of the dying man, and told that she was now painfully alive to the extent of her wretchedness. Willingly would I pass over the scene that followed. They carried her up-stairs-they placed her beside her departing husband-her lips were laid to his, and a wild despairing glance fixed upon that fading eye which never had turned upon her with any but a look of love. Ellen!" said a voice so feeble as to be heard with difficulty, "I am going-fastGod bless-" The surgeon held the wrist of the arm which was extended over the bed-coverings, and made a mute sign that my mother should be removed-Cæsar Blake's last sigh had parted! "It is over!" said the churchman, raising his glistening eyes. Into thy hands, Father, we commend him !" 66 "What!" screamed the wild voice of the mourner-“Who says he's dead?" It's false!" Nor did the departed soldier bear the semblance of an extinguished spirit. 66 "He seemed to sleep, for you could scarcely tell Or gore divulged the cause) that he was dead." Speak to me!" she continued-" Speak to Ellen, my own darling adored husband! Ha! he does not hear me !" she laid her lips to his; "I feel no breath;-Cæsar, speak! He is dead" and in violent convulsions she sank upon the senseless body. I must hurry the detail. All that human skill could do was done. While strength remained, shrieks and groans, that would have harrowed a marble breast to listen to, were heard from my mother's chamber; convulsions succeeded each other quickly, and during one of the most severe, a vessel in the head ruptured. Ellen's sufferings were mercifully ended; and before the remains of Cæsar Blake were cold, his wife lay at his side a corpse, and I was made an orphan! This frightful tragedy occasioned a powerful sensation: the sympathies of all classes were excited-all execrated the deed, all denounced the murderer; and, as a last token of respect, while the bodies were being waked, the castle was thronged by crowds of sincere mourners. On the day of the funeral, every road and height was covered with countless: multitudes, and twenty thousand persons witnessed the melancholy ceremony. When the coffins were extended side by side in the churchaisle, and the beautiful service for the dead was being performed, the simple inscriptions on the plates pointed a striking lesson of the insecurity of mortal life and human happiness. "Lieutenant-colonel Cæsar Blake, aged 28 years!"-And was that heap of clay the proud, and chivalrous, and gallant soldier? Short was his career! The scroll upon the lesser |