Alonzo and Melissa Part 5

I have enough left to purchase what stock and other materials I need; and to spare some for your present exigencies, Alonzo."

Alonzo thanked his father for his kindness, but told him that from his former liberality he had yet sufficient for his wants, and that he should soon find business which would amply support him. "But your affair with Melissa, asked his father, how is that likely to terminate?"

"Favourably, I hope, sir," answered Alonzo. He could not consent to disturb the tranquillity of his parents by reciting his own wretchedness.

A week pa.s.sed away. Alonzo saw his parents removed to their little farm, which was to be managed by his father and a hired man. He saw them comfortably seated; he saw them serenely blest in the calm pleasures of returning peace, and a ray of joy illuminated his troubled bosom.

"Again the youth his wonted life regain'd, A transient sparkle in his eye obtain'd, A bright, impa.s.sion'd cheering glow, express'd The pleas'd sensation of his tender breast: But soon dark glooms the feeble smiles o'erspread; Like morn's gay hues, the fading splendours fled; Returning anguish froze his feeling soul, Deep sighs burst forth, and tears began to roll."

He thought of Melissa, from whom he had heard nothing since he last saw her.--He thought of the difficulties which surrounded him. He thought of the barriers which were opposed to his happiness and the felicity of Melissa, and he set out for the house of Vincent.

Alonzo arrived at the residence of Vincent near the close of the day.

Vincent and his lady were at tea with several young ladies who had pa.s.sed the afternoon with Mrs. Vincent. Alonzo cast an active glance around the company, in hopes to find Melissa, but she was not there. He was invited and accepted a seat at table. After tea Vincent led him into an adjoining room. "You have come in good time, said he. Something must speedily be done, or you lose Melissa forever. The day after you were here, her father received a letter from Beauman, in which, after mentioning the circ.u.mstance of your father's insolvency, he hinted that the consequence would probably be a failure of her proposed marriage with you, which might essentially injure the reputation of a lady of her standing in life; to prevent which, and to place her beyond the reach of calumny, he offered to marry her at any appointed day, provided he had her free consent.

"As Beauman, by the recent death of his father, had been put in possession of a splendid fortune, the proposition allured her father, who wrote him a complaisant answer, with an invitation to his house.--He then strove to extort a promise from Melissa, that she would break off all connexion with you, see you no more, and admit the addresses of Beauman.

"To this she could not consent. She urged, that by the consent of her parents she was engaged to you by the most sacred ties. That to her father's will she had hitherto yielded implicit obedience, but that hastily to break the most solemn obligation, formed and sanctioned by his approbation and direction, was what her conscience would not permit her to do. Were he to command her to live single, life might be endured; but to give her hand to any except you, would be to perjure those principles of truth and justice which he himself had ever taught her to hold most inviolable.--Her father grew outrageous; charged her with disobedience, with a blind inconsiderate perverseness, by which she would bring ruin upon herself, and indelible disgrace upon her family.

She answered only with her tears. Her mother interposed, and endeavoured to appease his anger; but he spurned her from him, and rushed out of the room, uttering a threat that force should succeed persuasion, if his commands were not obeyed. To add to Melissa's distress, Beauman arrived at her father's yesterday; and I hope, in some measure to alleviate it.

Edgar, her brother, came this morning.--Mrs. Vincent has dispatched a message to inform Melissa of your arrival, and to desire her to come here immediately. She will undoubtedly comply with the invitation, if not prevented by something extraordinary. I should have written you had I not hourly expected you."

Mrs. Vincent now came to the door of the room and beckoned to her husband, who went out, but immediately returned, leading in Melissa after which he retired. "Oh, Alonzo!" was all she could say, and burst into tears. Alonzo led her to a seat, gently pressed her hand, and mingled his tears with hers, but was unable to speak.--Recovering at length, he begged her to moderate her grief. "Where, said he, is your fort.i.tude and your firmness, Melissa, which I have so often seen triumphing over affliction?" Her extreme anguish prevented a reply.

Deeply affected and alarmed at the storm of distress which raged in her bosom, he endeavoured to console her, though consolation was a stranger to his own breast. "Let us not, Melissa, said he, increase our flood of affliction by a tide of useless sorrow. Perhaps more prosperous days are yet in reserve for us;--happiness may yet be ours." "Never, never! she exclaimed. Oh, what will become of me!" "Heaven cannot desert you, said Alonzo; as well might it desert its angels. This th.o.r.n.y and gloomy path may lead to fair fields of light and verdure. Tempests are succeeded by calms; wars end in peace; the splendours of the brightest morning arise on the wings of blackest midnight.----Troubles will not always last.

Life at most is short. Death comes to the relief of the virtuous wretched, and transports them to another and better world, where sighing and sorrows cease, and the tempestuous pa.s.sions of life are known no more."

The rage of grief which had overwhelmed Melissa began now to subside, as the waves of the ocean gradually cease their tumultuous commotion, after the turbulent winds are laid asleep. Deep sobs and long drawn sighs succeeded to a suffocation of tears. The irritation of her feelings had caused a more than usual glow upon her cheek, which faded away as she became composed, until a livid paleness spread itself over her features.

Alonzo feared that the delicacy of her const.i.tution would fall a sacrifice to the sorrow which preyed upon her heart, if not speedily alleviated;--but alas! where were the means of alleviation?

She informed him that her father had that evening ordered her to become the wife of Beauman. He told her that her disobedience was no longer to be borne.--"No longer, said he, will I tamper with your perverseness: you are determined to be poor, wretched and contemptible. I will compel you to be rich, happy, and respected. You suffer the _Jack-a-lantern_ fancy to lead you into swamps and quagmires, when, did you but follow the fair light of reason, it would conduct you to honour and real felicity. There are happiness and misery at your choice.

"Marry Beauman, and you will roll in your coach, flaunt in your silks; your furniture and your equipage are splendid, your a.s.sociates are of the first character, and your father rejoices in your prosperity.

"Marry Alonzo, you sink into obscurity, are condemned to drudgery, poorly fed, worse clothed, and your relations and acquaintances shun and despise you. The comparison I have here drawn between Beauman and Alonzo is a correct one; for even the wardrobe of the former is of more value than the whole fortune of the latter.

"I give you now two days to consider the matter; at the end of that time I shall expect your decision, and hope you will decide discretely. But remember that you become the wife of Beauman, or you are no longer acknowledged as my daughter."

"Thus, said Melissa, did my father p.r.o.nounce his determination, which shook my frame, and chilled with horror every nerve of my heart, and immediately left me.

"My aunt added her taunts to his severities, and Beauman interfered with his ill-timed consolation. My mother and Edgar ardently strove to allay the fever of my soul, and mitigate my distress. But the stroke was almost too severe for my nature. Habituated only to the smiles of my father, how could I support his frowns?--Accustomed to receive his blessings alone, how could I endure his sudden malediction."

Description would fail in painting the sensations of Alonzo's bosom, at this recital of woe. But he endeavoured to mitigate her sorrows by the consolation of more cheering prospects and happier hours.

Vincent and his lady now came into the room. They strenuously urged the propriety and the necessity of Alonzo and Melissa's entering into the bands of wedlock immediately. "The measure would be hazardous," remarked Melissa. "My circ.u.mstances"--said Alonzo. "Not on that account, interrupted Melissa, but my father's displeasure----" "Will be the same, whether you marry Alonzo, or refuse to marry Beauman," replied Vincent.

Her resolution appeared to be staggered.

"Come here, Melissa, to-morrow evening, said Mrs. Vincent; mean time you will consider the matter, and then determine." To this Melissa a.s.sented, and prepared to return home.

Alonzo walked with her to the gate which opened into the yard surrounding her father's house. It was dangerous for him to go farther.

Should he be discovered with Melissa, even by a domestic of the family, it must increase the persecutions against her. They parted. Alonzo stood at the gate, gazing anxiously after Melissa as she walked up the long winding avenue, bordered with the odour-flowing lilac, and lofty elm, her white robes now invisible, now dimly seen as she turned the angles of the walk, until they were totally obscured, mingling with the gloom and darkness of the night. "Thus, said Alonzo, thus fades the angel of peace from the visionary eyes of the war-worn soldier, when it ascends in the dusky clouds of early morning, while he slumbers on the field of recent battle."--With mournful forebodings he returned to the house of Vincent. He arose after a sleepless night and walked into an adjoining field. He stood leaning in deep contemplation against a tree, when he heard quick footsteps behind him. He turned, and saw Edgar approaching: in a moment they were in each other's arms, and mingled tears. They returned to Vincent's and conversed largely on present affairs. "I have discoursed with my father on the subject, said Edgar. I have urged him with every possible argument to relinquish his determination: I fear, however, he is inflexible.

"To a.s.suage the tempest of grief which rent Melissa's bosom was my next object, and in this I trust I have not been unsuccessful. You will see her this evening, and will find her more calm and resigned. You, Alonzo, must exert your fort.i.tude. The ways of Heaven are inscrutable, but they are right.

"We must acquiesce in its dealings. We cannot alter its decrees.

Resignation to its will, whether merciful or afflictive, is one of those eminent virtues which adorn the good man's character, and ever find a brilliant reward in the regions of unsullied splendour, far beyond trouble and the tomb."

Edgar told Alonzo that circ.u.mstances compelled him that day to depart for the army. "I would advise you, said he, to remain here until your affair comes to some final issue. It must, I think, ere long, be terminated. Perhaps you and my sister may yet be happy."

Alonzo feelingly expressed his grat.i.tude to Edgar. He found in him that disinterested friends.h.i.+p, which his early youth had experienced. Edgar the same day departed for the army.

In the afternoon Alonzo received a note from Melissa's father, requesting his immediate attendance. Surprised at the incident, he repaired there immediately. The servant introduced him into a room where Melissa's father and aunt were sitting.----"Hearing you were in the neighbourhood, said her father, I have sent for you, to make a proposition, which after what has taken place, I think you cannot hesitate to comply with. The occurrence of previous circ.u.mstances may lead you to suppose that my daughter is under obligations to you, which may render it improper for her to form marriage connections with any other. Whatever embarra.s.sments your addresses to her may have produced, it is in your power to remove them; and if you are a man of honour you will remove them. You cannot wish to involve Melissa in your present penurious condition, unless you wish to make her wretched. It therefore only remains for you to give me a writing, voluntarily resigning all pretensions to the hand of my daughter; and if you wish her to be happy, honourable, and respected in this life, this I say you will not hesitate to do."

A considerable pause ensued. Alonzo at length replied, "I cannot perceive any particular advantage that can accrue from such a measure.

It will neither add nor diminish the power you possess to command obedience to your will, if you are determined to command it, either from your daughter, or your servant."----

"There, brother," bawled the old maid, half squeaking through her nose, which was well charged with rappee, "did'nt I tell you so? I knew the fellow would not come to terms no more than will your refractory daughter. This love fairly bewitches such foolish, crack-brained youngsters. But say Mr. ----, what's your name, addressing herself to Alonzo, will love heat the oven? will love boil the pot? will love clothe the back? will love----"

"You will not, interrupted Melissa's father, speaking to Alonzo, it seems, consent to my proposition? I have then, one demand to make, which of right you cannot deny. Promise me that you will never see my daughter again, unless by my permission."

"At the present moment I shall promise you nothing," replied Alonzo, with some warmth.

"There again, said the old maid, just so Melissa told you this morning, when you requested her to see him no more. The fellow has fairly bet.w.a.ttled her. I wish I had him to deal with. Things wasn't so when I was a girl; I kept the rogues at a distance, I'll warrant you. I always told you, brother, what would come of your indulgence to your daughter.

And I should not wonder if you should soon find the girl had eloped, and your desk robbed in the bargain."

Alonzo hastily arose: "I suppose, said he, my presence can be dispensed with."

"Well, young man, said Melissa's father, since you will not comply with any overtures I make; since you will not accede to any terms I propose, remember, sir, I now warn you to break off all communication and correspondence with my daughter, and to relinquish all expectations concerning her. I shall never consent to marry my daughter to a beggar."

"Beggar!" involuntarily exclaimed Alonzo, and his eyes flashed in resentment.--But he recollected that it was the father of Melissa who had thus insulted him, and he suppressed his anger. He rushed out of the house, and returned to Vincent's. He had neither heard nor seen any thing of Melissa or Beauman.

Night came on, and he ardently and impatiently expected Melissa. He antic.i.p.ated the consolation her presence would bestow. Edgar had told him she was more composed. He doubted whether it were proper to excite anew her distress by relating his interview with her father, unless she was appraised of it. The evening pa.s.sed on, but Melissa came not. Alonzo grew restless and uneasy. He looked out, then at his watch. Vincent and his lady a.s.sured him that she would soon be there. He paced the room.

Still he became more impatient. He walked out on the way where she was expected to come. Sometimes he advanced hastily; at others he moved slowly; then stood motionless, listening in breathless silence, momentarily expecting to discover her white form approaching through the gloom, or to hear the sound of her footsteps advancing amidst the darkness. Shapeless objects, either real or imaginary, frequently crossed his sight, but, like the unreal phantoms of night, they suddenly pa.s.sed away, and were seen no more. At length he perceived a dusky white form advancing in the distant dim obscurity. It drew near; his heart beat in quick succession; his fond hopes told him it was Melissa. The object came up, and hastily pa.s.sed him, with a "good night, sir."

It was a stranger in a white surtout. Alonzo hesitated whether to advance or to return. It was possible, though not probable, that Melissa might have come some other way. He hastened back to Vincent's--she had not arrived. "Something extraordinary, said Mrs. Vincent, has prevented her coming. Perhaps she is ill."--Alonzo shuddered at the suggestion. He looked at his watch; it was half past eleven o'clock. Again he hastily sallied out, and took the road to her father's.

The night was exceedingly dark, and illuminated only by the feeble glimmering of the twinkling stars. When he came within sight of the house, and as he drew near no lights were visible--all was still and silent. He entered the yard, walked up the avenue, and approached the door. The familiar watch-dog, which lay near the threshold, fawned upon him, joyfully whining and wagging his tail. "Thou still knowest me, Curlow, said Alonzo; thou hast known me in better days; I am now poor and wretched, but thy friends.h.i.+p is the same." A solemn stillness prevailed all around, interrupted only by the discordance of the nightly insects, and the hooting of the moping owl from the neighbouring forest.--The dwelling was shrouded in darkness. In Melissa's room no gleam of light appeared. "They are all buried in sleep, said Alonzo, deeply sighing, and I have only to return in disappointment."

He turned and walked towards the street; casting his eyes back, the blaze of a candle caught his sight. It pa.s.sed rapidly along through the lower rooms, now gleaming, now intercepted, as the walls or the windows intervened, and suddenly disappeared. Alonzo gazed earnestly a few moments, and hastily returned back. No noise was to be heard, no new objects were discernible.--He clambered over the garden wall, and went around to the back side of the house. Here all was solemn and silent as in front. Immediately a faint light appeared through one of the chamber windows; it grew brighter; a candle entered the chamber; the sash was flung up, and Melissa seated herself at the window.

The weather was sultry, she held a fan in her hand; her countenance, though stamped with deep dejection, was marked with serenity, but pale as the drooping lily of the valley. Alonzo placed himself directly under the window, and in a low voice called her by name. She started wildly, looked out, and faintly cried, "Who's there?" He answered, "Alonzo."

"Good heavens, she exclaimed, is it you, Alonzo? I was disappointed in meeting you at Vincent's this evening; my father will not suffer me to go out without attendants. I am now constantly watched and guarded."

"Watched and guarded! replied Alonzo: At the risque of my life I will deliver you from the tyranny with which you are oppressed."

"Be calm, Alonzo, said she, I think it will not last long. Beauman will soon depart, after which there will undoubtedly be some alteration.

Desire Mrs. Vincent to come here to-morrow; I believe they will let me see her. I can, from time to time, inform you of pa.s.sing events, so that you may know what changes take place. I am placed under the care of my aunt, who suffers me not to step out of her sight. We pa.s.s the night in an adjoining chamber--from whence, after she had fallen asleep, I stole out, and went down with a design of walking in the garden, but found the doors all locked and the keys taken out. I returned and raised this window for fresh air. Hark! said she; my aunt calls me. She has waked and misses me. I must fly to her chamber. You shall hear more from me to-morrow by Mrs. Vincent, Alonzo." So saying, she let down the window sash, and retired.

Alonzo withdrew slowly from the place, and repa.s.sed the way he came.