“Distinctly,” replied Glenn; “and I have since felt so much anxiety to be acquainted with it that I have several times been on the eve of asking you to gratify my curiosity; but thinking it might be impertinent, I have forborne. It has more than once occurred to me that your condition in life must have been different from what it now is.”
“It has been different—far different. I will tell you all. I am a native of England—a younger brother, of an ancient and honourable family, but much decayed in fortune. I was educated for the ministry. Our residence was on the Thames, a few miles distant from London, and I was early entered in one of the institutions of the great city. While attending college, it was my practice twice a month to visit my father’s mansion on foot. I was fond of solitary musings, and the exercise was beneficial to my weak frame. It was during one of those excursions that I rescued a young lady from the rude assaults of two ruffians. After a brief struggle, they fled. I turned to the one I had so opportunely served, and was struck with her unparalleled beauty. Young; a form of symmetrical loveliness; dark, languishing eyes, a smooth forehead of lily purity, and auburn hair flowing in glossy ringlets—it was not strange that an impression should be made on the heart of a young student. She thanked me for my generous interposition in such sweet and musical tones, that every word thrilled pleasantly through my breast. She prevailed upon me to accompany her to her mother’s cottage, but a few hundred paces distant; and during our walk thither, she hung confidingly on my arm. Her aged mother overwhelmed me with expressions of gratitude. She mildly chid her daughter for wandering so far away in quest of flowers, and then withdrawing, left us alone. Again my eyes met those of the blushing maiden—but it is useless to dwell upon the particulars of our mutual passion. Suffice it to say that she was the only child of her widowed mother, in moderate but independent circumstances, and being hitherto secluded from the society of the other sex, soon conceived (for my visits were frequent) an affection as ardent as my own. At length I apprized my father of the attachment, and asked his consent to our union. He refused to sanction the alliance in the most positive terms, and commanded me never to mention the subject again. He said that I was poor, and that he would not consent to my marriage with any other than an heiress. I returned to London, resolved to disobey his injunction, for I felt that my happiness entirely depended upon my union with the lovely Juliet. But I had never yet definitely expressed my desire to her. Yet there could be no doubt from her smiles that my wishes would willingly be acceded to. I determined to arrange every thing at our next interview, and a few weeks afterwards I repaired to the cottage for that purpose. Instead of meeting me with her ever blissful face, I found my Juliet in tears! She was alone; but in the adjoining chamber I heard a man’s voice, and feared that it was my father. I was mistaken. Juliet soon brushed away her tears, and informed me that she had been again assailed by the same ruffians, and on the lawn within sight of the cottage. She said that the gentleman in the next room was her deliverer. I seized her hand, and when about to propose a plan to secure her against such annoyances for ever, her mother entered and introduced the stranger to me. His name was Nicholson, and he stated that he was a partner in a large banking establishment in Lombard Street. He was past the bloom of youth, but still his fine clothes and his reputed wealth were displeasing to me. I was especially chagrined at the marked attention shown him by Juliet’s mother. And my annoyance was increased by the frequent lascivious glances he cast at the maiden. The more I marked him, the more was my uneasiness. It soon occurred to me that I had seen him before! He resembled a person I had seen driving rapidly along the highway in a chariot, on the morning that I first beheld my Juliet. But my recollection of his features was indistinct. There was a condescending suavity in his manners, and sometimes a positive and commanding tone in his conversation, that almost roused my enmity in spite of my peaceful calling and friendly disposition. It was my intention to remain at the cottage, and propose to Juliet after he had departed. But my purpose was defeated, for he declared his intention to enjoy the country air till evening, and I returned, disappointed and dispirited, to the city.
“A few days afterwards I visited the cottage again. What was my surprise and vexation to behold Mr. Nicholson there! He was seated, with his patronizing smile, between Juliet and her mother, and presenting them various richly bound books, jewels, &c., which seemed to me to be received with much gratification. I was welcomed with the usual frankness and pleasure by Juliet, but I thought her mother’s reception was less cordial, and Mr. Nicholson regarded me with manifest indifference. I made an ineffectual effort at vivacity, and after an hour’s stay, during which my remarks gradually narrowed down to monosyllables, (while Mr. Nicholson became excessively loquacious,) I rose to depart. Juliet made an endeavour to accompany me to the door, where I hoped to be assured of her true affection for me by her own lips, but some pointed inquiry (I do not now recollect what) from Nicholson, which was seconded in a positive manner by her mother, arrested her steps, and while she hesitated, I bad her adieu, and departed for the city, resolved never to see her again.
“It was about a month after the above occurrence that my resolution gave way, and I was again on the road to the cottage, with my mind made up to forgive and forget every thing that had offended me, and to offer my hand where my heart seemed to be already irrevocably fixed. When I entered who should I see but the eternal thwarter of my happiness, the ever-present Nicholson! But horror! he was now the wedded lord of Juliet! The ceremony was just over. There were but two or three strangers present besides the clergyman. Bride, groom, guests, and all were hateful to my sight. The minister, particularly, I thought had a demoniac face, similar to that of one of the ruffians who had tested the quality of my cane. Juliet cast a look at me with more of sadness than joy in it. She offered me her hand in silent salutation, and it trembled in my grasp. The deed was done. Pity for the maiden who had been thus sacrificed to secure a superabundance of wealth which could never be enjoyed, and sorrow at my own forlorn condition, weighed heavily, oh, how heavily! on my heart. I returned to my lonely and desolate lodgings without a malicious feeling for the one who had robbed me of every hope of earthly enjoyment. I prayed that he might make Juliet happy.
“But, alas! her happiness was of short duration. Scarce six months had passed before Mr. Nicholson began to neglect his youthful and confiding bride. She had still remained at her mother’s cottage, while, as she stated, his establishment was being fitted up in town for their reception. He at first drove out to the cottage every evening; but soon afterwards fell into the habit of visiting his bride only two or three times a week. He neither carried her into society nor brought home any visitors. Yet he seemed to possess immense wealth, and bestowed it upon Juliet with a liberal, nay, profuse hand. My young friend, what kind of a character do you suppose this Mr. Nicholson to have been?” said the old man, pausing, and turning to Glenn, who had been listening to the narrative with marked attention.
“He was an impostor—a gambler,” replied Glenn, promptly.
“He was an impostor! but no adventurous gambler, as you suppose. I will proceed. About seven months after his marriage, he abandoned Juliet altogether! Yet he did not forget her entirely. He may have felt remorse for the ruin he had wrought—or perhaps a slight degree of affection for his unborn—; and costly presents, and many considerable sums of money, were sent by him to the cottage. But neither the aged mother nor the deserted wife found the consolation they desired in his prodigal gifts. They sent me a note, informing me of their distressful condition, and requesting me to ascertain the locality of Mr. Nicholson’s establishment, and, if possible, to find out the cause of his unnatural conduct. I did all in my power to accomplish what they desired. I repaired to the cottage, unable to give the least intelligence of Mr. Nicholson. I had not been able to find any one who had ever heard of him. Juliet became almost frantic. She determined to seek him herself. At her urgent solicitation, I accompanied her to the city in an open curricle. A pitying Providence soon terminated her insupportable suspense. While we were driving through Hyde Park, we were forcibly stopped to permit, among the throng, the passage of a splendid equipage. The approaching carriage was likewise an open one. Juliet glanced at the inmates, and uttering a wild piercing shriek, fainted in my arms. I looked, and saw her quondam husband! He was decked in the magnificent insignia of ROYALTY. Nobles were bowing, high-born ladies smiling, and the multitude shouted, ‘There comes his royal highness, the Prince of—’
“Man cannot punish him,” continued Roughgrove, “but God can. HE will deal justly, both with the proud and the oppressed. But to return. He saw Juliet. A few minutes after the gorgeous retinue swept past, one of the prince’s attendants came with a note. Juliet was insensible. I took it from the messenger’s hand, and started when I looked the villain in the face. He had been the parson! He smiled at the recognition! I hurled my cane at his head, and hastened back to the cottage with a physician in attendance. Juliet soon recovered from her swoon. But a frenzied desperation was manifest in her pale features. I left her in her mother’s charge, and returned in agony to my lodgings. That night a raging fever seized upon my brain, and for months I was the victim of excruciating disease. When convalescent, but still confined to my room, I chanced to run my eye over one of the daily papers, and was petrified to see the name of Mrs. Nicholson, in the first article that attracted my attention, in connection with an attempt upon the life of the king! She had been seized with a fit of temporary insanity, and driving to town, sought her betrayer with the intention of shedding his blood. She waited at the gate of St. James’s palace until a carriage drove up in which she expected to find the prince. It was the king—yet she did not discover her error until the blow was made. The steel did not perform its office, as you are aware from the history of England, in which this event is recorded. The king humanely pardoned her on the spot. A single word she uttered acquainted him with her history, and her piteous looks made an extraordinary impression on his mind. He too, had, perhaps, sported with innocent beauty. And now the spectre of the weeping maniac haunted his visions. Soon he became one himself. The name of Juliet fortunately was not published in the journals. It was by some means incorrectly stated that the woman who attacked the king was named Margaret Nicholson, and so it remains on the page of history.
“As soon as I was able to leave my chamber, I repaired to the cottage. Juliet was a mother. Reason had returned, and she strove to submit with Christian humility to her pitiable lot. She received me with the same sweet smile that had formerly beamed on her guileless face. Her mother, the promoter of the fancied advantageous alliance, now seemed to suffer most. They both clung to me as their only remaining friend, and in truth I learned that all other friends had forsaken them. I looked upon the deceived, outraged, but still innocent Juliet, with pity. Her little cherub twins—”
“Twins!” echoed Glenn.