Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 11 — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

——wer | —— -——— eel _ ~~ —_— . — to leave her under the charge of her aunt, who had a little girl of nearly the same age; that The New York Library. “My good fellow, we did not come here. Destiny | becomes equally annoyed on finding, by oarest brought usin a cart. She may take us to Tyburn in | they were in error. they were educated together at a convent, near | the same way.” ona, and that she had only returned two months that she had a very narrow escape, as the ship in which her uncle, and aunt, and cousins, as well as her- self, were on board, returning from Genoa, where her brother-in-law had been obliged to go to secure a suc- cession to some property bequeathed to him, had been eaptured in the night by the English: but the officer, who was very polite, had allowed them to go away next day, and very handsomely permitted them to take all their effects. Tarr. ago; | | “Yes, if you sport we awoke this morning. “* Nevertheless, I'll be hanged if Iam not right. Sup- pose we argue the point?” your philosophy as you did when stead of arguing t Don made such a long story about.” ** With all my h let us go to the pavilion.” Our hero and his friend took their seats, and Gas- coigne then communicated the history of Don Rebiera, point, oy I “Oh, oh,’’ thought Jack; “‘I thought I had seen her | to which we shall dedicate the ensuing chapter. face before: this then was one of the of the cabin—now I'll have some fun, During the conversation with the mother, Donna Agnes had remained some paces behind, picking now and then a flower, and not attending to what passed. When our hero and her mother sat down in the pa- vilion she joined them, when Jack addressed her with his usual politeness. ‘*‘T am almost ashamed to be nem Agnes, in this ragged dress—but the rocks o have no respect for persons.”’ girls in the corner ou, Donna your coast “We are under great obligations, signor, and do not | completed he retired to his country seat belonging to | when I was not supposed ora,” replied Jack; “T| regard such trifles.”’ ‘You are all kindness, si little thought this morning of my good fortune—I can tell the fortunes of others, but not my own,” ‘You can tell fortunes!” replied the old lady. “Yes, madam, I am famous for it—shall I tell your daughter hers?”’ Donna Agnes looked at our hero and smiled. **T perceive that the young lady does not believe me; I must prove my art, by telling her of what has already mn es to her. e signora will then give me Cc %? ** Certainly, if you do that,” replied Agnes. **Oblige me, by showing me the palm of your hand.”’ — extended her little hand, and Jack felt so very polite that he was nearly aagey it. However, he re- strained himself, and examining the lines: “That you were educated in Spain; that you arrived here but two months ago; that you were captured and released by the English, your mother has already told me; but to prove to you that I knew all that, I must now be more particular. You were in a ship mounting fourteen guns—was it not so?”’ Donna Agnes nodded her head. ““T never told the signor that,” cried Donna Clara. ‘*She was taken by surprise in the night, and there was no fighting. e next oe the English burst on the cabin door; your uncle and your cousin fired eir pistols,”’ “Holy Vi !”” cried Agnes, with surprise. “The Eng h officer was a young man, not very good RS There you are wrong, signor—he was very hand- some.”’ “There is no accounting for taste, signora. You were frightened out of your wits, and with your cousin you crouched down in the corner of the cabin. Let me examine that little line closer. You had—yes, it’s no mistake—you had very little clothes on.” ope tore away her hand and covered her face. he vero, e vero: Holy Jesus! how could you know “nat?” ' Of a sudden Agnes looked at our hero, and after a minute appeared to recognize him. “Oh, mother, ‘tis he—I recollect now, ‘tis he!” “Who, my child?” replied Donna ra, who had been struck dumb with Jack’s astonishing power of fortune-telling. “ The officer who captured us, and was so kind.”’ Jack burst out into a fit of laughter not to be con- trolled for some minutes, and then acknowledged that she had discovered him, ‘““At all events, Donna Agnes,” said he at last, ‘‘ ac- knowledge that, ragged as Iam, I have seen you in a much greater deshabille.”’ Agnes sprung up and took to her heels, that she ag t hide her confusion, and at the same time to go vo her father and tell him who he had as his guest. Although Don Rebiera had not yet finished his narra- vive, this announcement of Agnes, who ran in breath- less to communicate it, Leg brought all the parties together, and Jack received their thanks. **T little thought,” said the Don, “that I should have been so doubly indebted to you, sir. Command my services as as please, both of you. My sons are at Palermo, and I trust you will allow them the pleasure of . our friendship when you are tired of remaining with us.” Jack made his megs bow, and then with a sh of his shoulders looked down upon his habiliments, which, to please Gascoigne, he had torn into ribands, as much a to say, “We are not provided for a lengthened My brothers’ clothes will fit them, I think,” said Agnes to her father; “they have left plenty in their wardrobes.”’ “If the signors will condescend to wear them till they can replace their own.”’ dshipmen are very condescending. sed. followed Don Rebiera, and condescended to put on clean shirts belonging to Don aan, and Don Martin. Also to put on their trowsers, to select their best waistcoats and eoats: in short, they condescended to have are r fit-out—and it so happened that the fit-out was not far from a regular fit. Having condescended, they then descended, and the intimacy between all parties became so great that it 4 ag as if they not only wore the young men’s clothes but also in their shoes. Ha thus made themselves presentable, Jack presented his hand to both ladies and led them into the garden, that Don Rebiera might finish his long story to Gascoigne with- out further interruption, and resuming their seats in the pavilion, he entertained the ladies with a history of his cruise in the ship after her capture. nes soon re- covered from her reserve, and Jack had the forbear- ance not to allude again to the scene in the cabin, which was the only oe J she dreaded. After dinner, when the family, according to custom, had retired for their siesta, Gascoigne and Jack, who had — enough in the cart to last for a week, went out together into the garden. “Well, Ned,” said Jack, “do you wish yourself on board the ear again?” ““No,” replied Gascoigne, “‘ we have fallen on our feet at last, but still not without being first knocked about like peas in a rattle. What a lovely little creature that esis! How strange that you should fall in with again! How odd that we should come here \” | = CHAPTER XXI. A LONG STORY, WHICH THE READER MUST LISTEN TO, AS WELL AS OUR HERO. **T HAVE already made you acquainted with my name, and I have onl in Sicily, and that there are few families who such large estates. My father was a man who had no leasure in the pursui to add that it is one of the most noble ossess | i | | “ Right or beach f you will be ee Jack; so, in- | e ll you what the | as Aggy 4nd to be as fon ” of most of the young men of | this count is age; he was of a weakly constitution, and was with | I knew ‘ittle of what had passed at home, but —_—— - —_-—_— a ee ——— oe that the ad overrated, Now, if two prey 4 people marry without e reaction takes then underrate, as much as before they each other. this violence of passion, t other perfect, and perha ——. sexe ip an ey do not expect to find each ps have a better chance of with you,” thought Gascoigne; “ but of aa as my friend ao make no reply, lest there be no end to the story Don Rebiera proceeded: ““My mother, finding that my mes re rhe Lgy his closet and his books to gayety and d tion, soor left him to himself, and amused herself after her ow on, but not until I was born, which was ten montht after their marriage. My father was ag ey and. leased that my mother should be amused, he indulged erin everything. Time flew on, and I had arrived at my fifteenth year, and came home from my studies, it being intended that I should enter the army, which you are aware is pred the only profession embraced ip the heirs of noble families. Of oe, difficulty reared to manhood. When his studies were had occasionally heard my mother spoken Hgntly of, our family, which is about twenty miles from Palermo, | heard my father’s name mentioned wit devoted himself wholly to lit- | he was an only son, his parents were naturally | boiled at the idea of an anxious that he should marry; the more so as his | — his family. I a | & and shutting himself up, erary pursuits. ve health did not promise him a very extended existence. Had he consul his own inclinations he would have declined, but he felt that it was his x oy compl with their wishes; but he did not trouble himself wit the choice, leaving it wholly to them. They selected a young lady of high family, and certainly of most ex- oes beauty. only ih I could say more in her avor—for she was = mother—but it is impossible to narrate the history without exposing her conduct. The marriage took place, and my father—having woke up, as it were, at the celebration—again returned to his closet, to occupy himself in abstruse studies—the re- sults of which have been published, and have fully es- tablished his reputation as a man of superior talent and deep research. But, however much the public may ap- reciate the works of a man of genius, whether they be present, and | always h compassion as if an ill-used man, but I knew nothing more; still this was quite sufficient for a young man, whose blood hing like a a being cast ved at my father’s—I found him his books; I paid my ts tomy mother—I found her with her confessor. disliked the man at first sight; he was handsome, certainly: his forehead was high and white, his eyes large and fiery, and his commanding; but there was a —— proud look about him which disgusted me—nothing like humility or devotion. I might have admired him as an officer commanding a regiment of cavalry, but as a church- man he appeared to be most m . She named me with kindness, but he appeared to treat me with dis- dain; he spoke authoritatively to my mother, who ap- red to yield implicitly, and I discovered that he was ford of the whole household. My mother, too, it was said, had given up gayeties and become devout. I soon received more than a common intelligence between Cent. and before I had been two months at hom written to instruct or to amuse, certain it is that a | I had = ee A of my father’s dishonor; and, literary be a induces her to sacrifice much of her own domes- c enjo extolled abroad. I mention this point as sume extenu- ation of my mother’s conduct. She was neglected most certainly, but not neglected for frivolous amuse- ments, or because another form had captivated his literary pursuits, became abst neering, and left his wife to amuse & erself in any wa she might figs lease. A literary husband is, without ex- husband in the world, and must try the best of tem —not by unkindness, for my father was kind an - dulgent to excess, but by that state of perfect abstrac- tion and indifference which he showe mot —a refusal was unknown. You may say, what could she want more? I reply, that anything to a woman is preferable to indifference. The ediate consent to grant—the value of everything is only relative, and in eg ei to the difficulty of obtaining it. The imme- ate assent to every opinion was tantamount to insult —it implied that ge did not choose to argue with her. “It is true that women like to have their own way— but they like at the same time to have difficulties to sur- mount and to conquer; otherwise half the tification is lost. Although tempests are to be deplored, still a certain degree of tion and motion are requisite to keep fresh and clear the lake of matrimony, the waters of which otherwise soon stagnate and become foul, and without some contrary currents of opinion between a married couple such a stagnation must take “A woman permitted always and invariably to have her own way without control is much in the same situ- ation as the child who insists upon a whole instead of himself and everything about him. contradiction, like salt at dinner, seasons and sppesites the repast; but too much, like the condiment ues- tion, s gh on to its excegs. ““My mother was a Wain woman in eve word—vain of her b and of her beauty, and accus- tomed to receive that Bomage to which she considered herself entitled. She had been spoiled in her infancy, and as she grew up had learnt nothing, because she was permitted to do as she pleased; she was therefore frivolous, and could not appreciate what she could not eof her There never was a more ill-sorted union.” “T have always thought that such must be the case,” replied Gascoigne, “in Catholic countries, where a young person is en out of a convent and mated ac- cording to what her family or her wealth may consider as the most eligible connection.‘ **On the subject there are many opinions, my friend,”’ replied Don Rebiera. ‘It is true, that when a mar- riage of convenience is arranged by the parents, the dispositions of the parties are made a secondary point; but then in, it must be remembered, that when a choice is left to the es themselves, it is at an age at which there is little worldly consideration; and led away in the first place, by their passions, they form connections with those inferior in their station which are attended with eventual prereset other, allowing that they do choose their of life, they make quite as bad or often a worse choice than if their partners were selected for them.” ‘I cannot understand that,” replied Gascoigne. “The reason is, beeause there are no means, or, if means, no wish, to study each other’s disposition. A young man is attracted by person, and he admires; the young woman is flatte “a the admiration, and is eaten if she has any faults she is not likely to show them—not concealing them from hypocrisy, but because they are not called out. The young man alls in love, so does the young woman; and when once in love, they can no longer see faults; they mg att im that they have found rfection. In the blindness of love each raises the other to a standard of perfec- tion which human nature can never attain, and each man requires in his wife either a mind conge- | what was nial to his own, or that pride in her husband’s talents | were aware that such was the case. My ent to the satisfaction of having his name | Weak preg without | power with her than I had | ception—although always at home—the least domestic | ined that he would have acted calmly and discreetly; rs_ but, on the contrary, his violence was without boun more unfortunate for me, they first im- ulse was to ea my father; but, on considera- on, I thought it better to say rege provided I could persuade my mother to dismiss Father Ignatio. [ took an »pportunity when she was alone to express my indignat! on at her conduct, and to demand his im- mediate dismissal, as a condition of my not divulging fancy; but in his desire to instruct others, and I may | her crime. She of ney frightened, and gave her add his ambition for renown, he applied himself to his | consent; but I soon found that her confessor more and he remained. I now resolved to acquaint my father, andI roused him from his studies that he might listen to his shame. I imag- and I had the atest difficulty in preventing his rushi owe with his sword to sacrifice them both. At last to everything | he contented himself by turning Father Ignatio out of exeae the favorite pursuit which absorbed him. My | the house in the most ignominious manner, and desir- er had but to speak, and every wish was granted | ing my mother to prepare for seclusion in a con- vent for the remainer of her days. But he fell their victim; three days afterward, as my mother was, b his directions, about to be removed, he was seized wit every wish took away, in her opinion, all merit in the | convulsions and died. I need hardly say that he was carried off by poison; this, however, could not be estab lished till long afterward. Before he died he seemed to i red for an event which be almost supernaturally pre He sent for another never came into my thoughts, confessor, who drew up his confession in waiting 9 his own request, and afterward inserted it in his . My mcther remained in the house, and Father Ignatio had the insolence to return. I ordered him away, and he . He was turned out by the servants. I had an interview with my mother, who defied me, and told me that I should soon have a brother to share in the succession, I felt that, if so, it would be the illegiti- mate progeny of her audultery, and told her my opin- ion. She ressed her rage in the bitterest curses, and I left her. Shortly afterward she quitted the house and retired to another of our country seats where she lived with Father Ignatio as before. About half a holiday, and before the evening ofaee is tired of four months afterward, formal notice was sent to me short, a little | of the birth of a brother; but as, when my father’s will was opened, he there had his confession, or the substance of it, in which he stated, that aware ils the whole, and it becomes unpalatable in | of my mother’s guilt, and epee a a uences ore t ensue, he solemnly dec at he migh sense of the had for years lived apart, I cared little for this communication. I contented myself with replying that as the child year be to the church, it had ter be dedicated to its service. “T had, however, soon reason to acknowledge the vengeance of my mother and her paramour. One ht I was attacked by bravoes; and I not fortu- nately received assistance, I should have forfeited my life; as it was, I received a severe wound, Wis, vg + attempts of that kind I took every precau- tion in future; but still every attempt was made to ruin my character, as well as to take my life. A you sister disappeared from a convent in m neighborhood: and on the ground near the window from which she cescended was found a hat, to be mine. I was proceeded against, and notwithstanding the strongest interest, it was with difficulty that the affair . arranged, although I had incontestably proved an alibi. “A young man of rank was found murdered, with a stiletto, known to be mine, buried in his bosom, and it was with difficulty that I could establish my innocence. ‘Part of a banditti had been seized, and on being or, in the | asked the name of their chief, when they received ab- own rank | gy they confessed that I was the chief of the band. “Everything that could be attempted was put into practice; and if I did not lose my life, at all events I was avoided by almost everybody as a dangerous and doubtful character. At last a nobleman of rank, the father of Don Scipio, whom na disarmed, was assassinated: the bravoes were taken, and they acknowledged that I was 4 rson a to jee them. I sare myself, but e sed upon me a hea ne and banish- ment. f had’ fust fecetved the orde, a and was crying out against the oe and lamenting my hard fate, as I sat down to er. Latterly, aware of what my accustomed to live ae ehooks:co enemies would attempt, I had been fai valet eom much alone. “nm A®