CHAPTER XXVI
_Scene on Boston Common--George Radcliff--the Rescue--Two ModelPolicemen--Innocence protected--the Duel, and the Death--the Unknown._
After Frank Sydney's escape from the Dark Vaults, through the CitySewers, he did not deem it prudent to remain longer in New York.Accordingly, accompanied by the Doctor, the dumb boy Clinton, and hisfaithful servant Dennis, he left the city, to take up his abodeelsewhere. None of his friends knew the place of his destination; somesupposed that he had gone to Europe; others thought that he hademigrated to the 'far West'; while many persons imagined that he hadexhausted his fortune, and been obliged to leave by the persecutions ofcreditors. Those who had been accustomed to borrow money from him,regretted his departure; but those who had been afflicted with jealousyat his good looks and popularity with _la belle sex_, expressedthemselves as 'devilish glad he'd gone.'
But, in truth, Frank had neither gone to Europe, nor to the far West,neither had he been driven away by creditors; his fortune was stillample, and adequate to all his wants, present and to come. Where, then,was our hero flown? impatiently demands the reader. Softly, and youshall know in good time.
It was a beautiful afternoon, in spring, and Boston Common was throngedwith promenaders of both sexes and all conditions. Here was the portlyspeculator of State street, exulting over the success of his last_shave_; here was the humble laborer, emancipated for a brief seasonfrom the drudgery of his daily toil; here was the blackleg, meditatingon future gains; and here the pickpocket, on the alert for a victim.Then there were ladies of every degree, from the poor, decent wife ofthe respectable mechanic, with her troop of rosy children, down to thelanguishing lady of fashion, with her silks, her simperings, and herlook of _hauteur_. Nor was there wanting, to complete the variety, thebrazen-faced courtezan, with her 'nods,' and becks, and wreathed smiles,tho' to class _her_ with ladies of any grade, would be sacrilege.
The weather was delicious; a soft breeze gently stirred the trees, whichwere beginning to assume the fair livery of spring, and the mild rays ofthe declining sun shone cheerily over the noble enclosure. In theprincipal mall a young lady was slowly walking with an air pensive andthoughtful.
She could scarce have been over sixteen years of age--a beautifulblonde, with golden hair and eyes of that deep blue wherein dwells aworld of expression. In complexion she was divinely fair; her cheekswere suffused with just enough of a rich carnation to redeem her angeliccountenance from an unbecoming paleness. Her figure, _petite_ andsurpassingly graceful, had scarce yet attained the matured fullness ofwomanhood; yet it was of exquisite symmetry.--Her dress was elegantwithout being gaudy, and tasteful without being ostentatious.
Have you noticed, reader, while perusing this narrative, that nearly allthe characters introduced have been more or less tainted withcrime?--Even Sydney, good, generous and noble as he was, had his faultsand weaknesses. Alas! human excellence is so very scarce, that had wetaken it as the principal ingredient of our book, we should have made aslim affair of it, indeed.
But you may remember, that in the former portions of our story, we madea slight allusion to one Sophia Franklin. _She_, excellent young lady!shall redeem us from the imputation of total depravity. Her virtue andgoodness shall illumine our dark pages with a celestial light--eventhough her mother and sister were _murderesses_!
Sophia Franklin it was, then, whom we have introduced as walking on theCommon, with thoughtful and pensive air, on that fine afternoon in earlyspring.
But _why_ thoughtful, and _why_ pensive? Surely she must behappy.--There certainly cannot exist a creature made in God's gloriousimage, who would plant the thorn of unhappiness in the pure breast ofthat gentle girl?
There is. Her worst enemies are her nearest relatives. Her mother andsister are plotting to sacrifice her to the lust of a rich villain, forgold.
Oh, GOLD!--Great dragon that doth feed on human tears, and human honor,and human blood! Thou art the poor man's phantom--the rich man's curse.Magic is thy power, thou yellow talisman; thou canst cause men and womento forget themselves, their neighbors, their God! See yon grey-headedfool, who hugs gold to his breast as a mother hugs her first born; hebuilds houses--he accumulates money--he dabbles in railroads. A greatman, forsooth, is that miserly old wretch, who stoops from manhood toindulge the dirty promptings of a petty avarice. But is he happy? NO;how can such a thing be happy, even tho' he possess thousandsaccumulated by his detestable meanness--when men spit on him withcontempt; decency kicks him, dishonorable care will kill him, infamywill rear his monument, and the devil will roast him on the hottestgridiron in hell--_and he knows it!_
But to resume. Slowly did Sophia pursue her walk to the end of the mall,and as slowly did she retrace her steps; then, crossing a narrow path,she approached the venerable old elm, whose antique trunk is a monumentof time. She had scarcely made two circuits around this ancient tree,when a gentleman who had espied her from a distance, advanced andgreeted her with a familiar air. On seeing him, she became muchagitated, and would have walked rapidly away, had he not caught her bythe arm and forcibly detained her.
This gentleman was a person of distinguished appearance, tall, gracefulfigure, and fashionably dressed.--His countenance though eminentlyhandsome, was darkly tinged with Southern blood, and deeply marked withthe lines of dissipation and care. He wore a jet-black mustache andimperial and his air was at once noble and commanding. 'My prettySophia,' said the stranger, in a passionate tone--'why do you fly fromme thus? By heavens, I love you to distraction, and have sworn a solemnoath that you shall be mine, though a legion of fiends oppose me!'
'Pray let me go, Mr. Radcliff,' said the young girl entreatingly--'youwish me to do wrong, and I cannot consent to it, indeed I cannot. As youare a gentleman, do not persecute me any more.'
'Persecute you--_never!_' exclaimed the libertine; 'become mine, and youshall have the devotion of my life-time to repay you for the sacrifice.Consent, sweet girl.'
'Never!' said Sophia, firmly; 'had you honorably solicited me to becomeyour wife, I might have loved you; but you seek my ruin, and I despise,detest you. Let me go, sir, I implore--I command you!'
'Command _me_!' exclaimed the libertine, his eyes sparkling withrage--'silly child, it is George Radcliff who stands before you; a manwhom none dare presume to command, but whom all are accustomed to_obey_! I am a monarch among women, and they bow submissive to mywishes. Listen, Sophia; I have for years plucked the fairest flowers inthe gardens of female beauty, but I am sated with their intoxicatingperfume, and sick of their gaudy hues. Your luxurious mother and fierysister were acceptable to me for a time, and I enjoyed their voluptuouscaresses with delight; but the devil! the conquest was too easilyachieved. I soon grew tired of them and was about to withdraw mypatronage, when to retain it, they mentioned _you_, describing you to bea creature of angelic loveliness; my passions were fired by thedescription, and I longed to add so fair and sweet a lily to thebrilliant bouquet of my conquests. They sent for you to New Jersey; youcame, and surpassed my highest anticipations. I paid your mother andsister a large sum for you, promising to double the amount as soon asyou should become mine. I have so far failed in my efforts; unwilling touse violence, I have tried to accomplish my object by entreaty.--Now,since you will not listen to my entreaties, I shall resort toforce.--This very night I have arranged to visit you, and then--and_then_, sweet one--'
He drew the shrinking girl towards him, and in spite of her resistance,profaned her pure lips with unholy kisses. During the conversation justrelated, day had softly melted into dim twilight, and the loungers onthe Common had mostly taken their departure; very few were in thevicinity of Radcliff and Sophia--and there was but one person who sawthe scene of kissing and struggling that we have described. That personwas a young and handsome man, well-dressed, and possessing an open,generous and manly countenance. Observing what was going on between thepair, and seeing that the young lady was suffering violence from hercompanion, he silently approached, nobly resolved to protect the wea
kerparty, at all hazards.
Sophia had partially escaped from the grasp of Radcliff, and he wasabout to seize her again, when the young man just mentioned steppedforward, and said, calmly--
'Come, sir, you have abused that young lady enough; molest her nofurther.'
'And who the devil may you be, who presumes thus to interfere with agentleman's private amusements?' demanded the libertine, with savageirony: but the bold eyes of the other quailed not before his fierceglance.
'It matters not particularly who I am,' replied the young man,sternly--'suffice it for you to know that I am one who is bound toprotect a lady against the assaults of a ruffian, even if that ruffianis clad in the garb of a gentleman.'
'Oh, sir,' said Sophia, bursting into tears--'God will reward you forrescuing me from the power of that bad man.'
Radcliff's eyes literally blazed with fury as he strode towards theyoung lady's protector.
'You called me a ruffian,' said he, 'take _that_ for your impudence,'and he attempted to strike the young man--but the blow was skillfullywarded off, and he found himself extended on the grass in a twinkling.
Two policeman now ran up and demanded the cause of the fracas. The youngman related everything that had occurred, whereupon the officers tookRadcliff into custody.
'Fellow,' said the individual, haughtily addressing hisantagonist,--'you are, I presume, nothing more than a shopman or commonmechanic, beneath my notice; you therefore may hope to escape the justpunishment of your insolence to-night.'
'You are a liar,' calmly responded the other--'I am neither a shopmannor a mechanic, and if I were, I should be far superior to such ascoundrel as you. I am a gentleman; your equal in birth andfortune--your superior in manhood and in honor. If you desiresatisfaction for my conduct to-night, you will find me at the TremontHouse, at any time. My name is Francis Sydney. I shall see this lady insafety to her residence.'
Radcliff was led away by the two officers. They had proceeded but ashort distance, when he thus addressed them--
'My good fellow, it is scarcely worth while to trouble yourselves todetain me on account of this trifling affair. Here's five dollars apiece for you--will that do?'
'Why, sir,' said one of the fellows, pocketing his V, and giving theother to his companion--'we can't exactly let you go, but if you tip usover and run for it, perhaps we shan't be able to overtake you.'
'I understand you,' said Radcliff, and he gave each of those _faithful_officers a slight push, scarce sufficient to disturb the equilibrium ofa feather, whereupon one of them reeled out into the street to adistance of twenty feet, while the other fell down flat on the sidewalkin an apparently helpless condition, and the prisoner walked away at aleisurely pace, without the slightest molestation.
Meanwhile, Frank Sydney escorted Sophia to the door of her residence inWashington street. The young lady warmly thanked her deliverer, as shetermed him.
'No thanks are due me, miss,' said Frank--'I have but done my duty, inprotecting you from the insults of a villain. I now leave you in safetywith your friends.'
'Friends!' said the fair girl, with a deep sigh--'alas, I have nofriends on earth.'
The tone and manner of these words went to the heart of our hero; heturned for a moment to conceal a tear--then raised her hand respectfullyto his lips, bade her farewell, and departed.
Sophia entered the house, and found her mother and sister in the parlor.They greeted her with smiles.
'My darling Soph,' said Mrs. Franklin--'that charming fellow was muchdisappointed to find that you had gone out. We told him that you hadprobably gone to walk on the Common, and he went in search of you.'
Sophia related all that had occurred to her during her absence. Shecomplained of the libertine's treatment of her with mingled indignationand grief.
'Pooh! sis,' exclaimed Josephine,--'you mustn't think so hard of Mr.Radcliff's attentions. You must encourage him, for he is very rich, and_we need money_.'
'Must you have money at the expense of my honor?' demanded Sophia, withunwonted spirit.
'And why not?' asked her mother in a severe tone. 'Must we starve onaccount of your silly notions about virtue, and such humbug? Your sisterand I have long since learned to dispose of our persons for pecuniarybenefit, as well as for our sensual gratification--for it is aspleasurable as profitable; and you must do the same, now that you areold enough.'
'Never--never!' solemnly exclaimed Sophia--'my poor, dead father--'
'What of him?' eagerly demanded both mother and daughter, in the samebreath.
'He seems to look down on me from Heaven, and tell me to commit no sin,'replied the young girl.
'Nonsense,' cried the mother--'but go now to your chamber, and retire tobed; to-night at least, you shall rest undisturbed.'
Sophia bade them a mournful good night, and left the room. When the doorclosed upon her, Josephine glanced at her mother with a look ofsatisfaction.
'Radcliff will be here to-night at twelve,' said she--'according to hisappointment, for he will find no difficulty in procuring his dischargefrom custody. Once introduced into Sophia's chamber, he will gain hisobject with little trouble; then he will pay us the remaining thousand,as agreed upon.'
'And which we need most desperately,' rejoined her mother--'howunfortunate about the burning of our house! It has reduced us almost toour last penny.'
'The loss is irreparable,' sighed Josephine--'what divine raptures weused to enjoy in the 'Sanctuary of the Graces!' And there, too, was myelegant wardrobe and that heavenly French bed!'
These two abandoned women then retired to their respective chambers, toawait the coming of Radcliff. At midnight he came. He was admitted intothe house by Mrs. Franklin, and conducted to the chamber of Sophia,which he entered by means of a duplicate key furnished him by theperfidious mother.
The libertine had not observed, on entering the house, that he wasfollowed by a man at a short distance. He was too intent upon theaccomplishment of his vile desire, to notice the close proximity of onewho was determined to oppose him in its execution. Sydney had expectedthat Radcliff would be liberated, and felt assured that he would seekhis victim again that night. He comprehended that the poor girl residedwith those who would not protect her, and he nobly resolved toconstitute himself her friend. He had lingered around the house forhours, and when he saw the libertine approaching, followed him to thevery door, at which he stationed himself, and listened.
Soon a piercing shriek proceeding from an upper chamber, told him thatthe moment for his aid had arrived. The street door was fortunately notlocked, and was only secured by a night latch; this he broke by onevigorous push, and rushing through the hall, mounted the stairs, andentered the chamber from which he judged the cry of distress had issued.
Then what a sight presented itself! Sophia, in her night dress, her hairin wild disorder, struggling in the arms of the villain Radcliff, whosefine countenance was rendered hideous by rage and passion.
'What!' he exclaimed--'_you_ here? By G----, you shall rue yourinterference with my schemes. How is it that you start up before mejust at the very moment when my wishes are about to be crowned withsuccess?'
'I will not parley with you,' replied Frank--'the chamber of this younglady is no fitting place for a dispute between us. As you claim to be agentleman, follow me hence.'
'Lead on, then,' cried the libertine, foaming with rage. 'I desirenothing better than an opportunity to punish your presumption.'
As they descended the stairs, Josephine and her mother, alarmed by thenoise of the dispute, issued from their rooms, and when Frank had giventhem a hasty explanation, the latter angrily demanded how he daredintrude into that house, and interfere in a matter with which he had nobusiness.
'Madam,' replied our hero--'you are, I presume, the mother of that muchabused young lady up stairs. I see that you countenance the ruin of yourdaughter. I tell you to beware--for I shall take proper measures toexpose your vileness, and have _her_ placed beyond the reach of yourinfernal schemes.'
He then left the house followed by Radcliff. After proceeding a shortdistance, the latter paused, and said--
'We can do nothing to-night, for we have no weapons, and to fightotherwise would scarce comport with the dignity of gentlemen. Meet meto-morrow morning, at the hour of six, upon this spot; bring with you afriend, and pistols; we will then repair to some secluded place, andsettle our difficulty in honorable combat.'
'But what assurance have I that you will keep the appointment?' demandedSydney; 'how do I know that this is not a mere subterfuge to escape me?'
'Young man, you do not know me,' rejoined Radcliff, and his breastswelled proudly. 'Do you think I'd resort to a base lie? Do you thinkthat I _fear_ you? I confess I am a libertine, but I am a man ofhonor--and that honor I now pledge you that I will keep the appointment;for, let me tell you, that I desire this meeting as much as you do.'
Strange inconsistency of terms!--'A libertine--but a man of _honor_!'This creed is preached by thousands of honorable adulterers. A seduceris of necessity a liar and a scoundrel--yet, forsooth, he is a man of_honor_!
'Very well, sir,' said Sydney--'I have no doubt you will come.' And witha cool 'good night,' they separated.
The next morning early, at a secluded spot in Roxbury neck, four menmight have been seen, whose operations were peculiar. Two of them wereevidently preparing to settle a dispute by the 'code of honor.' Theother two (the seconds) were engaged in measuring off the distance--tenpaces.
The morning was dark and cloudy, and a drizzling rain was falling. Itwas a most unpleasant season to be abroad, especially to execute suchbusiness as those four men had in hand.
Sydney had chosen for his second 'the Doctor'; while Radcliff hadbrought with him a tall individual, whose countenance was mostlyconcealed by an enormous coat collar and muffler, and a slouched hat.Two cases of pistols had been brought, and as 'the Doctor' was anaccomplished surgeon, it was deemed unnecessary to have the attendanceof another.
At length all was ready, and the antagonists took their places, withtheir deadly weapons in their hands. Both men were cool and collected;Radcliff was a most accomplished duelist, having been engaged in manysimilar encounters; and his countenance was expressive of confidence andunconcern. Sydney had never before fought a duel, yet, feeling assuredof the justice of his cause, he had no apprehension as to the result. Itmay be asked why he so interested himself in a young lady he had neverbefore seen, as to engage in a bloody encounter for her sake. We answer,he was prompted so to do by the chivalry of his disposition, and by adesire to vindicate the purity of his motives, and the sincerity of hisconduct. He wished to let that unprincipled libertine see that he was nocoward, and that he was prepared to defend the rights of a helplesswoman with his life.
The word was given to fire, and both pistols were discharged at once.Sydney was wounded slightly in the arm; but Radcliff fell, mortallywounded--his antagonist's ball had pierced his breast.
Sydney bent over the dying man with deep concern; his intention had beenmerely to wound him--he had no desire to kill him; and when he saw thathis shot had taken a fatal effect, he was sincerely grieved. He couldnot deny to himself that he felt a deep interest in the splendidlibertine, whose princely wealth, prodigal generosity, magnificentperson, and many amours, and rendered him the hero of romance, and themost celebrated man of the day. He knew that Radcliff's many vices werein a slight degree palliated by not a few excellent qualities which hepossessed; and he sighed as he thought that such a brilliant intellectand such a happy combination of rare personal advantages should cease toexist, ere the possessor could repent of the sins of his past life.
Radcliff's second, the tall man with the shrouded countenance, walked toa short distance from the melancholy group, with a gloomy and abstractedair. While the Doctor made vain efforts to alleviate the sufferings ofRadcliff, that unhappy man raised his dying eyes to Sydney's face, andsaid, faintly:--
'Young man, my doom is just.--Continue to be kind to Sophia Franklin,whom I would have wronged but for your timely interference; but bewareof her mother and sister--they are devils in the shape of women. Theywould have sold her to me for gold--wretches that they were, and villainthat I was!'
'Can I do anything for you?' asked Frank, gently.
'Nothing--but listen to me; the pains of death are upon me, and my timeis short. You see my second--that tall, mysterious-looking person? Ihave known him, for many years--he is a villain of the deepest dye--onewhom I formerly employed to kidnap young girls for my base uses. Lastnight I met him for the first time for a long period; I told him that Iwas to fight a person named Sydney this morning; he started at themention of your name, and eagerly desired to act as my second. Iconsented. He is your most inveterate enemy, and thirsts for your blood.He seeks but an opportunity to kill you. _He fears your second_, andthat prevents him from attacking you at once. Beware of him, for heis--is--is--the--'
Radcliff could not finish the sentence, for the agonies of death wereupon him. His eyes glazed, his breath grew fainter and fainter; and in afew moments he expired.
Thus perished George Radcliff--the elegant _roue_--the heartlesslibertine--the man of pleasure--brilliant in intellect, beautiful inperson, generous in heart--but how debased in soul!
They laid the corpse down upon the smooth, green sward, and spread ahandkerchief over the pale, ghastly features. Then they turned to lookfor the mysterious second; he was seated, at some distance, upon a largerock, and they beckoned him to approach. He complied, with somehesitation; and the Doctor said to him--
'Sir, you seem to manifest very little interest in the fate of yourfriend; you see he is dead.'
'I care not,' was the reply--'his death causes me no grief, norpleasure; he was no enemy of mine, and as for friends, I have none.Grief and friendship are sentiments which have long since died in mybreast.'
'By heavens!' exclaimed the Doctor--'I know that voice! The right handjealously thrust into your breast--your face so carefully concealed--thedying words of Radcliff--tell me that you are--'
'The Dead Man!' cried the stranger, uncovering his face--'you areright--I am he! Doctor, I did not expect to find you with Sydney, or Ishould not have ventured. I came to execute vengeance--but your presencerestrains me; crippled as I am, I fear you. No matter; other chanceswill offer, when you are absent. That escape of yours through the sewerswas done in masterly style. Doctor, you are a brave fellow, and yourcourage inspires me with admiration; you are worthy to follow myreckless fortunes. Let the past be forgotten; abandon this whining,preaching Sydney, and join me in my desperate career. Give me your hand,and let us be friends.'
The Doctor hesitated a moment, and, to Sydney's unutterable amazement,grasped the Dead Man's hand, and said--
'Oh, Captain, I will re-enlist under your banner; I am tired of a lifeof inactivity, and long for the excitement and dangers of an outlaw'scareer! We are friends, henceforth and forever.'
The Dead Man grinned with delight; but poor Sydney was thunderstruck.
'Good God!' he exclaimed--'is it possible that you, Doctor, will desertme, after swearing to me an eternal friendship? You, whom I oncebenefitted--you, who have since benefitted me--you, whom I thought to beone of the best, bravest, and most faithful men under thesun--notwithstanding your former faults--to prove traitor to me now, andleague yourself with my worst enemy? Oh, is there such a thing ashonesty or truth on earth?'
The Doctor was silent; the Dead Man whispered to him--
'Let us kill Sydney--he is no friend to either of us, and why should helive?'
'No,' said the Doctor, decidedly--'we will harm him not, at least forthe present. At some future time you may do with him as you will. Let usgo.'
And they went, leaving our hero in a frame of mind almost distractedwith remorse and sorrow--remorse, that he had killed a fellowcreature--sorrow, that a man whom he had regarded as a friend, shouldprove so perfidious.
He retraced his way to the city, and returned to his hotel. The body ofpoor Radcliff was shor
tly afterwards found by several laborers, whoconveyed it to the city, where an inquest was held over it. A verdict of_suicide_ was rendered by the jury, who, short-sighted souls,comprehended not the mysteries of duelling; and the 'rash act' wasattributed by the erudite city newspapers to 'temporary insanity'!
For three or four days after these events, Sydney was confined to hisbed by illness. His wounded arm pained him much, and he had caught asevere cold upon the wet, drizzly morning of the duel. Clinton, the dumbboy, attended him with the most assiduous care. This poor youth hadlearned the 'dumb alphabet,' or language of signs, to perfection; and ashis master had also learned it, they could converse together withconsiderable facility. Sydney was beginning to recover from hisindisposition, when one evening Clinton came into his room, andcommunicated to him a piece of information that astounded him. It was,that Julia, his wife, was then stopping at that very same hotel, as thewife of an old gentleman named Mr. Hedge--that she was dressed superbly,glittering with diamonds, appeared to be in the most buoyant spirits,and looked as beautiful as ever.