Henry Elmore and his wife had suddenly been called to New Haven, in consequence of the receipt of a brief letter. By the same messenger, a letter had also come to Jessy Ellet, from her lover, informing her of his arrival in Connecticut, and giving some account of the capture of the vessel in which he had sailed, and of the shipwreck, with the details of his escape from which the reader is already acquainted. He also hinted at some tidings which would make her heart leap for joy, but added, that as he expected to have the bliss of meeting her before twenty-four hours from the time of his writing, he would defer his intelligence until then.
As Jessy sat alone, after having seen her sister and brother depart for New Haven, counting the hours until their return and her lover’s arrival, (for she supposed they would come in company,) her thoughts and feelings were of that agitated kind natural to her situation in expecting to meet so soon the object to whom her affections were plighted, after his absence for months in a distant land.
That part of the letter she had just received, which spoke of joyful intelligence awaiting her, increased the pleasurable disturbance of her mind. To what could it refer if not to the subject upon which she had opened her heart on the night when he had declared his love for her? Some clue, she deemed, he must have obtained to the truth of her surmises, and to the continued existence of that sadly beautiful lady, for whom she had so strangely felt the instinctive yearnings of a daughter’s affection. Filled with all that expectancy to which this conviction gave rise, in addition to that which the announced arrival of her lover was calculated to produce, she had drawn her chair into the corridor at the back of the house, to enjoy the spring-breeze, and muse at her pleasure.
As she sat thus, she was startled by the sound of a deep groan issuing from the door opening upon the wing of the house to which the corridor led. Much surprised, and inclined to think that her imagination had deceived her, and that in the occupation of her mind she had mistaken some ordinary sound, and fancied it that manifestation of distress which she deemed she had heard, she aroused herself completely from her reflections, and listened breathlessly to hear whether or not it should be repeated. In a few minutes it was audible again. This time it was impossible that she could be mistaken. It was a groan of human agony which she had heard. She rose instantly and approached the door from whence it came. She had never before sought entrance here, having always supposed the place sacred to her sister’s devotions, and containing no possible attractions which should lead her to visit it.
Hastily she glanced her eye along the door in quest of a handle or latch to assist her in opening it. But it contained none. She then pushed it, in hopes that it might give way to her pressure. It was firmly secured, however, and resisted all her attempts. At length she was about to desist in despair, when another groan, deeper and more heart-rending than those she had heard previously, caused her to make one more effort. She exerted her utmost strength, and in doing so, her hand accidentally touched upon a secret spring, and the door suddenly gave way. She found herself at the foot of a low flight of steps, up which she quickly ascended.
Jessy Ellet here encountered another door which stood ajar. She heard within the sound of a heavy tread, and, filled with astonishment, hesitated whether to advance or retreat. Again a moan of distress fell upon her ear. Stimulated by feelings of kindness and compassion no less than of intense curiosity, she proceeded, and stood within a neat though humble apartment. It was carpeted, and otherwise comfortably furnished. A table, strewn with prints and newspapers, was placed in the centre of the room. A low fire burned in the hearth, notwithstanding the lateness of the season, and a couch was drawn near it, beside which was placed a stand covered with phials, and a bowl containing nourishment for an invalid.
Upon this couch lay the form of a person covered with a cloak. Jessy’s quick glance rested here, and, at that moment, another of the sounds of pain, such as she had heard, issued from beneath the folds of the mantle. Instantly approaching, she turned down the cloak, and beheld the face of the dying person lying beneath it. It was that of an aged man, whose features were wan and worn. His eyes were closed, and through the midst of the traces of pain which rested upon his countenance, might have been discerned the calm beauty of holiness, and the placid smile of one whose hopes were placed in heaven.
As Jessy stood, she became conscious, by a slight movement behind her, that there was still another inmate of the apartment. Turning, she beheld standing near, a form of manly grace and dignity. As she did so the countenance of the person whom she viewed underwent an entire change, and he regarded her with a fixed and painful earnestness, while a flush that over-spread his fine features evinced no little emotion.
“Excuse my intrusion,” said Jessy, addressing him modestly, and with embarrassment. “I heard a sound of distress, and came hither to learn whence it proceeded.”
At the tones of her voice, the invalid, with another groan, stirred, as if about to awake. It seemed as though there had been some magic in her notes to arouse him, for his sleep had been deep, and she had spoken but in a low key.