Part 8 (2/2)
”The doctor perhaps had no one gift of intellectual power which exalted him above other men. But look to the faculties which he possessed in admirable combination; regard him in the complete symmetry of his mind,”
etc. etc.
Thus I amused myself by this imitation of the system of eulogistic biographies. But I must confess that I had returned to my home oppressed with a feverish anxiety, as of one who felt that he had become involved in a hopeless undertaking. How utterly absurd the position which I occupied! How silly had I been in taking the a.s.surance of Mrs. Bolton for certain truth, and acting on the principle, that her husband was a great man in his day. I now began to regard the deceased as one of the most stupid creatures that had ever felt a pulse.
But then I had acquired the most morbid fear of meeting the widow. What excuse should I offer for a change of purpose? I have no doubt that my exposure and miserable life when at the village, seeking pearls and finding chaff, had produced a temporary derangement of my system, and that I had contracted some low fever.
Nothing else could account for the manner in which I was tormented by my position. What could be more easy than to say that I found myself unable to gather material for the life of the Great--I was about to say, old fool! Somehow I was spell-bound. I could not reason calmly on the subject. It broke my rest at night. It haunted me during the day. I now perceive, that I ought to have sought the advice of my physician. But then, common sense seemed to have deserted me on this one point. I was nervous, wretched, for so unreasonable a reason, and could not find relief. One night I dreamed that the widow and the doctor were both intent on murdering me. There she stood near me, the picture of wrath, and urging him, as a second Lady Macbeth, to destroy me. He advanced and raised his abominable pestle above his head. He smiled, proving how a man may smile and be a villain, and procrastinated the deadly blow to torment me. Fortunately I saw projecting from one of his huge pockets a large bottle of some specific which he had concocted for a patient.
Springing up, I seized the vial, and grasping him by the collar, was pouring it down his throat, saying, you infamous old murderer die of your own medicine, when a chair, near my bed, thrown violently half across the room by my impetuosity, awoke me.
But every knock at my door tormented me. Every letter was examined with terror,--lest I should recognize a hand calling me to account.
I found my way about Newark through unfrequented streets, and across the lots when it was practicable. Even when I went to the court-house, on business, I left my office, not by the door, but through a small back window, and by sundry winding ways reached my destination.
After this plan had been pursued for some time, I was duly honored by the following note.
”SIR:--You are not to think that your designs are unknown. Your singular conduct in pa.s.sing by my house so often,--a house so removed from the streets through which you would naturally pa.s.s,--could not fail to be observed by any man who had an eye in his head, and who regarded his rights. I am not alone in this observation of your proceedings. We have taken into consideration your stealthy look as you pa.s.sed, and have noticed how you watched at the corners, lest any one should see you.
”Depend upon it your designs are known. The villany is detected.
You are a hypocrite of the deepest dye. Unless you entirely, and immediately, relinquish your pursuit, you will suffer in a manner you little apprehend.
”Do not prowl in this mean way around my premises any more. Strive to retrieve your character. I hope the day may come when I can honor you as I now despise you.
”WARNING.”
About the same time I received this additional note.
”DEAR BOB:--I heard the other day that you had returned home, and I have been eager to see you. They tell me that you have fallen desperately in love with a certain widow, and that you have been up the country, under pretence of partridge shooting, in order that you might inquire about her property. Are the inquiries satisfactory? Are the acres and dwellings such, that on your return, she appears to be angelic? Or, being disappointed as to the properties left her by her father, and the old doctor, is she but a woman of ordinary charms? Oh Bob! I never thought you so mercenary.
I thought that you would follow my example, and despise all but the real excellencies which can adorn a wife.
”Had it not been that I am lame, I should have been to see you,--as it is desirable that we should meet soon.
”Now I think of it, there is another foolish report about you,--that you go to the court-house by the back street, in consequence of your having heard that that scape-grace, Bill Turney, whom you lashed so terribly in your address before the squire, when Obadiah Potter was arrested for beating his wife, intended to pummel you as soon as he caught you. They say also that he describes his belligerent intentions in very graphic language, to wit, that he will, 'shoot through you, like lightning through a gooseberry bush.' These stories will amuse you.
”Stop and see me the first time you come along the main street in a bold manner.
”Your friend,
”J. WALTERS.”
These annoyances had at least a good effect. I resolved that I would see the widow, and throwing off my nervous anxiety, explain to her that I could not possibly find materials sufficient for a biography. I intended also to suggest, that a physician might be better qualified for the undertaking.
Hence I gladly accepted the invitation of a fair cousin of mine, to be one of her guests for an evening party; where I felt confident that I should meet the widow.
It had now been several weeks since I had been thrown into the society of ladies. My health was improved. The nervous fever that had agitated me, had pa.s.sed away. The fascination of one whom I had sometimes met in our village gatherings, seemed to be restoring me to myself.
After a while, my companion looking across the room, said to me, ”How well our widow looks this evening.”
I thought that there was a mischievous look in her laughing eye. But sure enough--there stood the Empress, who had commanded the biography.
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