“Well, return and order the carriage: I will be with you at once,” replied Paul.
Elwood bowed and withdrew, and Paul again knelt beside the tomb of his parents, and, pressing his lips to the cold marble, inwardly invoked their blessings. He then arose and turned to depart; but when he reached the door suddenly paused, and rushing back, threw himself once more on the tomb, and burst into tears.
Tears! what sad, yet welcome guests they are! When the deep sorrow which is pent in the heart bursts forth in its natural expression, what relief is found. Thank God for the power to weep, for grief would become madness but for this means to give it vent. Tears have a healing magic, for after an utter abandonment to weeping there comes a heavy, sullen stupor, from which gradually arises slight gleams of hope, which dissipate the midnight gloom of sorrow, and light up the horizon of the future.
Paul wept long and bitterly, then sunk into deep thought, and at length arose and left the church. He knelt a short time by Lucy’s grave, and then by a desperate effort sprung to his feet and rushed from the burial-ground, without casting a single look behind him. He hurried to the manor-house, and finding the carriage in waiting threw himself into it, and, with a hasty adieu to those around, bade the coachman drive on. The next day he found himself in London, from whence he sailed for the Continent. There he wandered from place to place, sometimes mingling with the gay, at others, immuring himself in religious houses, or again seeking excitement in every thing which promised forgetfulness. He next sought oblivion in travel, and went to Palestine, hoping to find in its sacred scenes something more powerful to charm his mind than the all-engrossing subject which continually haunted him. He visited Egypt, and pondering over her buried mysteries strove to devote his intellect to the solution of those wonderful records of old, which she holds with jealous hands, granting but slight glimpses of Truth to the most profound of seers. In vain: the one thought reigned supreme. He now hastened back to Europe, and visiting every place of note, strove to interest himself in her glorious historical remembrances, which impregnate her very air with food for thought. Still in vain. At last he resolved to seek America—the happy land of Freedom. There, among a nation who dwelt but little on the past, who looked to the future with glorious aspirations; there, where none need despair—where the road to fame was open unto all; there, in the bounding hopefulness of a young people’s heart, he hoped to find that something which might excite an overwhelming interest in his soul. His last hope failed him, and the mirage-like Lethe which he had so long and vainly followed on the Sahara of sorrow disappeared forever from his view.
Visiting one of our northern cities, and feeling unwilling to endure the noise and bustle of a large hotel, he resolved to seek a private boarding-house. He was directed to one which ranked among the highest. The terms were soon arranged, and Paul Weldon came to dwell within my walls.
What impression his strange, restless melancholy produced among his fellow-boarders, I have already made known. The cause of his conduct was a mystery which each one vainly tried to solve; and, failing in this, each gave a different reason for what they could not comprehend, agreeing in but one particular—to avoid him.
His nocturnal rambles annoyed them; but he was so gentle and inoffensive, they could not complain of this one fault. It was true that very nervous ladies indulged in delicate shrieks of alarm, or perhaps fainted outright, when returning late from some festive hall, they encountered him in the dimly-lighted passage. But, then it was so good an opportunity for displaying their pretty little feminine fears, that they were rather grateful to him than otherwise: for how could they be angry with one who indirectly caused such tender inquiries as were always made the following morning. And then how interesting the frightened lady looked, as with a scarf or mantilla thrown gracefully around her, (as though the fright caused a chill, which lasted thus long,) she related the incident to her commiserating admirers—and what a dear, delicate little creature she could seem upon such occasions! Too ethereal for this rude world, it excited a fear lest she might too soon be called to a more fitting home.
It was such thoughts, perhaps, that stirred in the hearts of the devoted swains, and made them bristle up, and look fierce, and wonder why such a person was kept in the house, hinting that they would speak sharply to the landlady about it, and have the matter corrected. And then to hear with what earnest sweetness, with what an angelic spirit of forgiveness the fair lady entreated them not to do so; and how the gentlemen expressed their admiration of the lady’s forbearance. It was worth a half-a-dozen fainting fits to give these nervous ladies an opportunity for a display of such exquisite delicacy, and such rare virtues.
Paul consequently remained undisturbed, though he continued to be shunned by all. Under the withering influence of the demon which possessed him, his health gradually declined. Day by day his cheek grew paler, and his form more slender. He now ceased to frequent the public table, and ordered his meals to be served in his own apartments; and only when the solemn stillness of night roused afresh the fearful memories of the past, did he quit his chamber and wander out in the deserted corridors.
At length he became unable to leave his bed. He refused to call in a physician, and required but little attention; and lay there alone, gradually sinking into the grave, without a single friend to soothe or console him. When his illness and his loneliness became known among his fellow-boarders, they all expressed much regret; but he had held himself aloof from all, and there was such an impenetrable mystery around him, that all hesitated at proffering any of those delicate acts of kindness, which are so welcome to an invalid. At length, a young man named Barton, resolved to act the Good Samaritan, even at the risk of being repelled by the sick man. Mr. Barton was one of those true Christians, who do not hesitate at performing their duty, even when it jars with their feelings. He accordingly sought Paul’s chamber; and, tapping at the door, was bidden to enter.