Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 188: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

180 There was another pause; and then Lord Ormsby went on to say, “ In casting a retrospec- tive glance over my life, Agnes, there is a period of two or three years which seems as if it were covered by a black veil, not altogether impervious to the sight, but through which the mental vision can only penetrate dimly and imperfectly. That period of my life remains not an entire blank in my memory ; but its incidents are only seen in mere sketchy outlines or uncertain shapeless forms, as objects that are seen through a mist. That period of three years to which I refer, Agnes, was the interval that immediately succeeded my flight from England and my transit over the Atlantic. Shud- der not, dearest !—but—but—with fortitude arm yourself—while you learn that for three years I was the inmate of—of I can scarcely speak it an asylum you understand me—in New York !” A shriek escaped from the lips of Agnes; horror was expressed in her eyes; and her cheeks became deadly pale as she again threw her arms about her father’s neck ; and then she burst forth into a flood of tears, mingled with convulsive sobs. It was some time before the feelings of either the father or daughter were sufficiently composed to enable the former to continue his narrative. “ My dearest Agnes,” he at length said, “ you ¢an understand me fully when I assure you that I am not telling you all these things to harrow up your feelings or to plunge daggers into your sensi- tive heart: but if is a needful though a painful task which I am fulfilling, You must know everything connected with my bygone career ; or else if you coraprehended not what has been the state of my mind for so many long, long years, you would not hold me guiltless nor my conduct venial in having abandoned you. Nay, interrupt me not !—but listen, ‘I beseech you! Yes—for three whole years was I an inmate of that place,— not because I was veritably mad, for I was harm- less; but because I bad been found a wanderer in the streets of New York—penniless, starving— without any document about me to show who I was—and obstinately maintaining a profound silence when questioned.” “‘ Just heaven, dear father ! how you must have suffered !” murmured Agnes, again weeping. ‘And then,” hastily pursued Lord Ormeby, “on being emancipated from that place, I was taken by a benevolent hand and introduced as a clerk into a counting-house, where I remained for some months, doing my duty—that is to say, perform- ing whatsoever tasks that were set me, with a mechanical precision. About that time the plague was raging in New Orleans—decimating the po- pulation, and rendering that great southern city a scene of horror and mourning. The mercantile firm at New York had large transactions with New Orleans : it suddenly became of vital import- ance to send an agent to that southern city; but no one would go to encounter (as it was supposed) an almost certain death. At that crisis I offered my services. Of what value was my hfer I could afford to trifle with it—to stake it upon any venture—because I recked not for it! I went to New Orleans. It was while there,—yes, methinks it was there, if my memory do not fail me—that I chanced to receive from an English traveller some inteliigence relative to those whom I had left be- AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. hind in my native land nearly four years pre- vious. I learnt that my father-in-law had come mitted suicide, and that my wife was dead. ‘This was all.that I could ascertain; for my informant was but slightly acquainted with the circumstances of the case, and the discourse arose by one of those accidents which occasionally occur within the ex- perience of everybody. I should add that the Englishman entertained not the slightest idea how deeply interested I was in the matters whereof he was conversing. The plague continued to rago at New Orleans—the terrible cholera, converting whole streets into sepulchres and carrying desolation into thousands of homes! But it spared me; and I was enabled to render the most important ser- vices to the mercantile firm which I represented in that southern city. On my return to New York, my employers presented me with a sum of money, which if represented in English coin, would amount to about eight hundred pounds. I quitted their servica: I was getting disgusted with the haunts of men and with mankind itself. I beheld selfishness everywhere ; and I longed to flee afar from human society. I thought of pushing off into the Far West—clearing for mysélf a place in the midst of one of the great primeval forests, and there establishing my anchorite home. And thus I became a wanderer through tracks where daily and hourly I incurred a myriad dangers. There was the Red Indian burning to possess himself of my scalp; while the rattle of the deadly reptile continuously warned me that wheresoever I lay down to rest, my eyes wight close in a slumber whence there should be no awakening !” “Oh, father! dear father!” shudderingly mur- mured Agnes, as she nestled like a timid bird closer to her sire’s breast. “ And yet I passed scatheless through these and countless other perils, which must be encountered by those,” pursued Lord Ormsby, “who plunge into the wild regions of the Far West. For years I wandered there—sometimes settling for weeks in little villages or hamlets, on which I unexpect- edly stumbled as it were amidst those primeval forests—sometimes abiding in caves hollowed by nature in the rock. At last I became wearied of this existence, and I began to think that I had no right to separate myself so completely from the great mass of human society. By a strange re- vulsion of feeling my heart began to yearn to- wards my species, and I fancied that by doing good to others I should be pouring a balm into the wounds of my own soul. And so I went back into the great cities and towns of the American Union. I visited prisons and madhouses—Il was never wearied of listening to tales of distress in order that I might relieve the narrators. Thus, in less than a twelvemonth after my return from the far-off places of nature’s primeval barbarism to those scenes of civilization, my purse was emptied ; and the reflections which were then torced upon my mind began to diminish the philanthropy of my feelings. I saw where I had been duped: I com- prehended where I had been imposed upon: and at the same time I received several practical illus- trations of the ingratitude of those who had been the recipients of my bounty. I went to Hew York: I made my way to the offices of the mer- cantile firm by which I had been previously em- ployed; but there I found that nothing could be COLMICLOC nn) S aE a a a TT RET TS > (C@) 3