“Seen by the morning light, as we were seated around the breakfast table, these midnight robbers and murderers of my fancy appeared a family of honest, hardy New Englanders, who had bought a tract of land in Western Virginia. They showed us, at a little distance, a clearing where they were just erecting a larger and more comfortable log dwelling; and the old woman assured us that if we would stop and visit them, if we ever passed that way again, we should not have to climb a ladder, for they were going to have a ‘reg’lar stairway in t’other house.’”
“When the time came for parting with our kind hosts, and we offered to remunerate them for their trouble, they rejected the proffered money almost with scorn.”
“‘No, no,’ said the old man, ‘we haven’t got quite so low as that yet; and I hope that I nor none of mine will ever come to taking pay for a night’s lodging from a traveller. We don’t keep tavern here.’”
“The old woman’s parting advice to me was to try and ‘git over my narvousness; and she thought I hadn’t better drink no more strong green tea.’”
“‘I think your tea was strong last night, my friend,’ said I; ‘and that, together with the sight of the ghost, of which I have been telling you, made me very uneasy and restless.’”
“‘Well,’ said the old woman, ‘I hope ye won’t be so suspicious of us next time ye come; for it’s a cartain fact, that we never murdered any human yet. We do kill hogs; that I won’t deny.’ And she laughed so heartily, that I felt quite sure she had seen through all my fears and suspicions of the night before. So ends the murder story.”
“I wish you could have heard my old clergyman laugh, as I related to him all the horrors of the night; and when I came to mistaking the last squeal of a dying pig for his own death groan, I thought he would have rolled out of the gig. That night, which was last night, found us in the old gentleman’s hospitable home, where his kind lady gave me as cordial a welcome as I could desire. Here I am still with these good friends, only waiting for my trunks; and then, with God’s blessing, two days more will find me in the home of my own dear brother.—And here, with many kind remembrances to the dear ones at Brook Farm, Miss Edwards’ letter closed.”
VIII.
Bitter Disappointments.
“Oh! art thou found?
But yet to find thee thus!”
VESPERS OF PALERMO.
It may be as well for us to continue the history of Miss Edwards here, though its sad sequel was not known to the family of Mr. Wharton till a long time after she had left them. The letter with which the preceding chapter closes, was the last heard from her for many weeks. Various were the surmises in the family as to the reasons for her unaccountable silence, but at length they settled down in the belief that she must have fallen a victim to some of the diseases of a new country; though why they should not have received some tidings of her fate from her brother, still remained a mystery.