When I had read, or attempted to read, Thora's letter, which was written in the Swedish language, I returned it to the old man; and, folding it carefully with the other letters, he tied the little parcel with a piece of tape, and placed it in his bosom again.
"If, sir, my story is pleasing to you," observed the old man, "I will go on with it; for though the repetition gives me pain, its acuteness is relieved when I murmur, as I do now, to some one who will listen kindly like you."
"I am sorry," I replied, "that you should feel so deeply in making me acquainted with the earlier period of your life; for I have attended with pleasure to your tale."
The old man peered with a sorrowful expression in my face, and, brushing away a tear with his hand, continued:——
"Two years had passed away since Thora had been wedded, and the time was Autumn. Almost on this very bench I rested, listening to the merriment of men and women who were gathering winter-apples in the orchard yonder. Divided between the study of this old Bible, and the recollection of the happy hopes which Thora had once raised in my heart, a sense of desolation crept so utterly over me, that I could read and think no longer, and, closing the book, I bowed my head, and burst, like a child, into tears. This attitude of excessive grief arrested the attention of two passengers, a lady and a gentleman, whom I had not seen, and who, moved by my youth, no doubt, and vehement sorrow, came near to where I sat weeping; and, placing her hand gently on my shoulder, a woman, in a soft and kind tone of voice, desired to know my grief. Though two years had sadly laid waste my heart, my memory had not forgotten the source of all its affliction; and the sweet, clear tones of the voice were so familiar to my ears, that I raised my head quickly. In an instant my tears ceased; through my whole frame, passed, like a cold wire, an aching chill, which, when it subsided, left me faint and weak, and I could hardly stand.
"It was Thora who had spoken to me. Standing, motionless, for a few minutes in front of M. de Lacroix, Thora buried her face in her hands, and then fell almost insensible into the arms of her husband. I did not like to offer my assistance in restoring her, and stood aloof, prepared to perform any office which her husband might think necessary. Thora soon recovered; and when her hand was lifted to arrange her disordered hair, I saw a little ring, still encircling her finger, which I had, in token of our mutual plight, given to her years before. My wounded heart at its sight began to bleed again; but Thora, expressing a wish to M. de Lacroix that she might return home, bowed to me with a forced smile and swimming eyes, and I was spared the humility of showing how incompetent I was to conceal my tears. As Thora walked away from me, I could not help casting a lingering look towards a form that I once knew at distance, however great, and that I had thought to have called my own. I resumed my seat, and, giving expression to my anguish with sighs and tears, I did not stir till evening roused me from my trance of wretchedness. Length of time, sir, flew fast away, and heaped cares upon my head; but the recollection of my youthful days was vivid still as ever. No day dawned without a thought of Thora.
"One winter's evening I sat alone over my cheerless hearth, gazing vacantly on the glowing embers, when a coal fell from a mass of others which had formed themselves into a hollow body in the fire, leaving a tinge of deeper red over the spot, in the midst of which the letter, T, appeared indistinctly, fading and reappearing for some time, till, at last it became as visible as the mark I make with my stick on this sand. Another coal was driven suddenly with a loud noise, into the middle of the room, and the little cavity collapsed. No sooner had I risen to throw the coal into the grate again, than a gentle tap at my door attracted my attention. I thought it might be my fancy, or the wind; but the visitor seemed determined to gain admittance, and the tap was renewed a little louder than at first. Rising, I opened the door, and an old woman, who had been Thora's nurse, stood before me; and, with bitter lamentations, she placed a small note in my hand. It brought the dreadful tidings of Thora's sudden death.
"The mournful fact soon flew from end to end of Gottenborg, for Thora was much loved; and people whispered that she had died unfairly. This conjecture grew so strong, that a few days after her burial, Thora's body was taken from the tomb, and, after the minutest examination, no cause could be found to account for her death, but the Will of Heaven.
"A year came and went; and M. de Lacroix, wearied of his lonely condition, married again. He did not live happily with his second wife; and, from angry words, they were wont to come to blows. To be brief, sir, Madame de Lacroix, died as suddenly and mysteriously as my poor Thora. Suspicion showed a more audacious front than it had done on the previous occasion, and M. de Lacroix was arrested for murder. The loud cries of Madame de Lacroix, heard the day before her death, were sufficient to put M. de Lacroix on his trial.
"Either from contrition, or some other cause of fear or hope, M. de Lacroix confessed that the death of Thora had been brought about by his own hand. It seems, sir, by some act of the basest depravity, Heaven permits that the fallen condition of man should be forced, at intervals, on our minds, to show the necessity of keeping in subjection the vicious propensities of our thoughts and deeds; for, unless it be so, I can in no way solve the reckless abandonment of all human feeling in the breast of M. de Lacroix. Ever afterwards, from the day I met Thora accidentally on this spot, her husband gave way to fits of frequent jealousy and anger; and a home, which had been one of harmony and joy, was then converted into a den of contention and the bitterest acrimony. In one of these domestic brawls, M. de Lacroix resolved to murder his beautiful wife; and the plan he devised to accomplish his purpose was as novel as it was diabolical.