Tough yarns, vol. 2 (of 2)

Twenty years had floated down the stream of time since my escape from a French prison, and my almost immediate embarkation for the East Indies with cheerful prospects and with a glowing heart. Hope and enterprise urged me on in my career, and the efforts of my industry were crowned with complete success. But ah! how dear the purchase; an Asiatic clime had undermined my constitution, and ill health had rendered me peevish and discontented; so that I determined once more to visit the land of my nativity, and I embarked in an Indiaman for that purpose.

Only those who have been long estranged from the home of their fathers, and are returning to it with ardent expectation and thrilling apprehensions—only those can tell the mingling sensations of pain and pleasure that agitate the breast, as the tall ship urges on her course—“splash, splash, along the wave,”—while the anxious mariner, day after day, calculates his distance from the shore and sighs to find it yet so far away.

At last, I trod on British ground, but how changed were all things since my departure! The authors of my being were no more; the companions of my youth were scattered upon the wide world, or numbered with the dead; while others whom I had folded in my arms at parting, and felt my cheek bedewed with their tears, now received me with distant politeness and cold reserve. No cheering heart-descriptive smile of affection welcomed my return, and I found myself alone, unfriended and unblest. Society became my aversion, and withdrawing from the world to the cottage where I first received existence, my days were passed in nurturing the melancholy that consumed my heart, and my chief gratification was to pass the hours of solitude near the tomb of my parents. There I would pour out my griefs, and pray to join them in the blissful realms of immortality; but a life like this, working upon a debilitated constitution, soon shattered my intellects, and my reason became impaired.

One lovely evening in August, I had taken my usual position, and the stillness of the hour, the serenity of the air, the surrounding scenery, teeming with the choicest blessings of nature’s store and gilded by the last rays of the setting sun, operated like enchantment on my mind; while the solemnity of the lone churchyard, spread with the turf-raised tenements of death, wrought upon my disordered imagination, and filled me with a superstitious awe. The darkening shades of twilight fell heavier on the landscape, and I gazed around with indescribable sensations, fearing my eyes might rest on some unearthly form, yet desperately wishing to know the secrets of the clay-cold prison-house.

At this moment, as the full round moon shed her pale lustre on the monumental stones, bleached by many a winter’s storm,—at this very moment, my sight fell upon a strange mysterious figure, crouched near a new-made grave. Every fibre of my heart was racked to the extreme, every nerve was strung with maddening resolve. I rushed toward the spot; but what was my horror, what were the sickening sensations of my soul, when the figure raised his pale face, and as the moon-beams fell upon it, I beheld the well-remembered countenance of one who had shared the pastimes of my boyhood, who had been my fellow-prisoner at Verdun, whose untimely death I had deplored, and whose mortal remains I had myself seen consigned to the silent grave. It spoke; the voice seemed to be the same, though mournful and sepulchral, and every faculty of my mind seemed to be suspended. Again it spoke, and recognised me,—changed as I was,—called me by name, and rising from the earth, stretched forth its hand to welcome me. I shrunk back for an instant, my brain was suddenly as if on fire, and then again was chilled to icy coldness; life seemed to tremble on the verge of eternity. I sprang forward, grasped the extended hand, and fell senseless to the earth. On again recovering, the spectre was gone, but the recollection flashed upon my mind. I hastened towards my cottage, and entered it a maniac.

Months passed away in this unhappy state;—sometimes the attendants were animated by the faint glimmerings of hope, at others they were prepared to resign me to the angel of death. However, contrary to every expectation, I slowly recovered my reason and my health, when after a careful explanation, the fancied spectre again visited me, and was received as my old, my intimate friend; in short, we had been deceived respecting his death and burial through the infamous intrigues of the commandant, Wirrion, and from his own lips I heard the following account:—

“You may remember, B——, the kindness which many of the prisoners experienced from the inhabitants at Verdun, and the tender attachments that united numbers of youthful hearts together, softening the loss of liberty, and lightening the bonds of imprisonment. Can you forget Adele,—the beautiful, blooming, innocent Adele? Do you not recollect the first time we saw her at the gathering in of the vintage, when her luxuriant auburn hair was entwined with the green leaves of the vine, and she presided as the queen of the festival? Have you forgotten the sweet voice that warbled forth such strains of harmony? Yes! you may forget, but I never can.

“From that moment I loved Adele; from that moment our hearts were firmly knit together, and every interview served to strengthen our fond regard. She was an orphan, her parents had perished in the sanguinary conflicts of the revolution, and she now resided with a widowed aunt, whose only daughter had pledged her affection to our fellow-prisoner, Robinson. Euphemia was light-hearted, gay, and full of spirit; Adele was firm, cheerful, and enthusiastic, but at times a deep melancholy overshadowed her disposition, nor would she reveal the cause.

“A few months after our first acquaintance, several officers had broken their parole and escaped, the consequence was a rigid restriction on the freedom of the rest; but still money at all times could overcome the watchfulness of the guard. One evening, Robinson and myself had bribed the gens d’armes to permit our straying as far as the vineyard. We found Euphemia at the cottage, but Adele had walked to the verge of the grounds near the town, expecting our approach, and as we had been compelled to enter them by another path, she was not aware of our arrival. I immediately hastened towards the spot where I expected to find her, when a low murmuring sound followed by a faint shriek, arrested my steps. They were repeated still louder, and the sound directed me to the place from whence they proceeded. The cry of distress was enough for a British heart, and forgetting my situation as a prisoner, forgetting every thing but that some one stood in need of my assistance, I rushed forward. The shrieks continued, though fainter, and in a few seconds I reached the spot where Adele, my own sweet Adele, was struggling with a brute in human form. In an instant he was prostrate at my feet, and the fainting, innocent maiden clasped to my breast; but turning my eyes towards the wretch who thus had forfeited all pretensions to the character of man, I saw my fate was sealed,—it was the infamous, the cruel Wirrion.

“Before I could recover from my surprise, the villain had sprung upon his feet and advanced towards us; but stopping short, he gnashed his teeth, and shaking his clenched hand, exclaimed, ‘Eh bien, monsieur!’ and instantly retreated. ‘You are lost,’ cried Adele, ‘my Henry you are lost! ’tis his persecutions have made me wretched, and I did not dare to tell you, lest it might lead to dangerous consequences.’

“We ran to the cottage, related the events which had occurred, and then bidding the sweet girls farewell, with heavy, dejected spirits Robinson and I instantly returned to our quarters.

“Day after day passed on, but no public notice was taken of the transaction. No! the villain played a deeper game. Our minds were kept in a state of continued alarm by mysterious hints, rigid watchfulness, and harsh regulations; till at last, in conjunction with our faithful adherents, who sacrificed all selfish feelings to secure our safety, we projected our escape, and they prepared to supply us with every requisite for the purpose. Oppression had stirred up my spirit, and I longed once more to tread the deck in the service of my country; yet to leave Adele, whom I so fondly loved, and to leave her too exposed to such a monster,—my heart sickened at the thought.

“I was sitting in my apartment, agitated by struggles between affection and duty, reflecting that every means would be employed to shorten my days if I remained, and the many chances there were against my escape, when a lad entered and intimated that there was a peasant waiting below, who wished to deliver a message. The person was introduced, and we were left alone; but what was my surprise to find, under a peasant’s garb, my beautiful Adele. She had brought the disguises we were to assume, and came, as she said, ‘to weep her last farewell!’ Often did I declare it was impossible to leave her; and as often did she press my departure with an earnestness that surprised and distressed me.

“Every thing at last was finally arranged, and on the ensuing night, Robinson and myself were to repair to a particular spot, where, upon a concerted signal, a faithful guide would be ready to attend us. Short was our interview,—I pressed her to my heart,—we pledged our solemn troth,—and—she tore herself away.

“The following morning, Robinson received his instructions, and to avoid suspicion, we kept within doors through the remainder of the day. At dusk we sallied forth, and passed the gates just before they were closed, not without suspicion, but our disguises were so admirably contrived, as to deceive the penetrating looks of the guard. The night was dark and stormy, and it was with great difficulty we reached the suburbs near the vineyard. Here poor Robinson formed the resolution of once more seeing Euphemia; and though I pointed out the danger, yet my own heart was involuntarily attracted towards the cottage. We approached, but were compelled to abandon the design, as the gens d’armes were evidently on the watch.

“We returned to the spot where our guide was to be in waiting, and made the signal; but it met with no reply, and we dreaded lest by delay we had forfeited the opportunity of escape. Crouched behind a jutting rock, after remaining some time longer in anxious suspense, we saw a figure moving at a short distance; the signal was again given, and by being answered, we knew it to be our guide. He appeared, from his stature, to be a mere lad; but the darkness of the night and a broad-brimmed hat, concealed every feature of his face. Not a word passed on either side, and we commenced our march over a rugged track winding among the rocks, that greatly impeded our progress, till we came suddenly upon the main road, and the next moment were surrounded by a troop of cavalry. They interrogated our guide, but he was silent; they addressed us, and suspecting we were betrayed through the machinations of Wirrion, I was on the point of venting my indignation on the guide, when he prevented it by answering we were peasants. The reply not satisfying the officer, and the guide preparing to pass on, he struck him a severe blow on the head with the flat of his sword; a piercing shriek followed, that wrung my soul to agony,—such a shriek as had once before fell upon my tortured ear; it was Adele,—the generous, self-devoted Adele,—and she fell into my arms breathless and bleeding.

“The officer and several of the troop alighted on discovering that our guide was a female, and every means were used to restore animation, which, after considerable exertion, proved successful; and we were informed that our condition was well known, as they had only a short time before seized the conveyance which was to carry us beyond the frontiers, and had extorted the whole plot from the driver.

“There are some situations to which human nature may be exposed, that come like a blight upon the heart, chilling every faculty, and such was my case now; an icy coldness crept through my whole frame, and a faint sick shuddering shook every nerve. Adele was still supported in my arms, but I experienced neither grief nor pleasure; her blood ran streaming down my breast, but excited neither horror nor resentment; not a single murmur escaped from my lips, yet an insupportable weight of anguish pressed heavy on my soul. I heard the curses and execrations of our captors with indifference; but when they came to force her from me, then—then my spirit was aroused,—then my dormant faculties awakened from their stupefaction, and clasping her closer to my heart, I swore to hold her there till death. The courageous girl clung round me with all the powerful strength of maddening desperation, but how futile were our efforts against the united force of such a band! we were forcibly torn from each other; I saw her tender arms pinioned with cords; I saw her mounted on one of their horses; my stupor returned, and I patiently suffered them to bind my hands. Robinson and myself were conveyed to the citadel, and put in close confinement.

“On the following morning, Wirrion came to our prison, and a ghastly smile of infernal satisfaction played upon his features. Every epithet my tongue could lavish on a villain, was poured on him. At first he shrunk back; but approaching nigher, I heard his detested voice in a half whisper muttering between his teeth, ‘Remember Adele!’ My hand was instantly writhed in the wretch’s collar, but the bayonets of the guard were presented,—nay, even pricked my breast, and the pain compelled me to quit my hold, and we were condemned to solitary confinement for breaking our parole. Oh! how many hours and days of agonized suspense followed close upon each other! and though a cheerful gleam would sometimes break upon our dreary solitude, yet the uncertainty as to what had become of those we loved, clouded the brightest moments. In vain exertions were used in our behalf; we were considered dead to the world, and all its enjoyments.

“Among the soldiers who did duty near our prison, was an old grenadier, and sometimes we surprised him gazing at us with deep and marked emotion; but the moment he found himself observed, he would resume his ferocious countenance and turn away. On a particular day of festival, when discipline somewhat relaxed from its severity, our grenadier was sentry over us, and having looked cautiously around, he growled out a curse at the English prisoners, and thrust his bayonet towards the grated bars of the window. At first, I thought he designed to stab me; but observing something like white paper screwed up in the muzzle of his firelock, it was instantly in my hand, and the piece withdrawn. Hope once more played round my heart; it was a note in broken English, expressive of sympathetic feeling, and promising assistance. The writer had been a prisoner in England, and had shared the generous hospitality of my countrymen; but what conveyed the greatest delight to my mind, was assurances of the safety of the dear girls. After reading this unexpected epistle, we looked down towards the veteran; but no effort could again draw his attention, he continued pacing his post till relieved, without taking the slightest notice. Means of communication we had none, and several weeks of intense anxiety passed away without again seeing the grenadier. Wirrion would frequently come to glut his brutal malice, and never failed to drop some threatening hint of his future intentions.

“One afternoon, the grenadier again appeared before our prison; but the other sentinels were too near for him to convey any thing of which he was possessed, though it appeared evident that such was his intention. Recollecting the mode of receiving the last communication, I uttered a torrent of abusive and provoking language; he seemed to understand my meaning, and thrusting the bayonet through the bars, my hands grasped the paper, and unfolded an affectionate yet mournful epistle from Euphemia and Adele. The latter had been imprisoned, and every method resorted to which was likely to effect her destruction; but, happily, she had escaped all the machinations of the villain Wirrion. Her wound had been healed, and she was again restored to liberty. This letter was enclosed in a paper written on, I believe, by yourself with a pencil.”

“I remember it,” said I; “it was to give you hopes of escape, as several had united in the cause, determined to set you at liberty; but the commandant traversed our design. A Frenchman we entrusted, betrayed our secret.”

“It was so,” he continued; “and from time to time the veteran supplied us with information. By his means we were furnished with tools to cut through the bars which confined us; but this was a work of time, and could only be attempted at those hours when our friend was on sentry, as the least noise of the file would have betrayed us to the man at the next post. At last, after a sickening interval of several months, our task was accomplished, and we waited in anxious expectation for further instructions.

“It was on a stormy day in November, poor Robinson and myself were sitting together on our only chair, conversing about home and recalling to memory the transactions of our childhood, when parents, brothers, sisters, and the companions of our juvenile amusements alternately occupied our attention. From them the conversation turned to the land of our nativity, and there was something so peculiar in Robinson’s manner when speaking of his country, as to excite painful sensations in my mind. His spirits were exceedingly dejected, though at times an enthusiastic expression of devoted attachment to his king and his profession lightened up his pale features with a glow of animation; but it would presently sink again, and grasping my hand, while a tear trembled in his eye, he uttered, ‘You will see them again, you will once more tread on British soil, whilst I—yes, my grave will be made in the land wherein I am a stranger. Yet tell them,—tell my parents that Robinson never disgraced his cloth, or committed an act for which they could blush.’ I endeavoured to divert his thoughts from such ideas, but my efforts were useless. I know not whether there is any thing like presentiment; but in many events which occur in our journey through life, there are some strange mysterious coincidences that would almost prompt the credence of it, and thus it proved with poor Robinson.

“The heavy bell of the citadel tolled four, and in a few minutes we heard the relief-guard beneath our windows. The officer and his men passed on; we listened to the measured tread, as their steps receded, and then cautiously advanced; but the sentry was in his box, and again we resumed our seat. The theme of our conversation turned upon the dear girls, who had risked so much for the poor prisoners; and here Robinson was again sad and melancholy, conjuring me, if my life was spared, to give his last and tender farewell to the amiable Euphemia.

“At this moment a noise was heard, like the fall of a firelock on the pavement, but it passed unnoticed; however, when a short time had elapsed, it was repeated, and on going to our grating to ascertain the cause, we saw our faithful old soldier on the post. The rain was pouring down in torrents, and the weather was excessively cold, so that most of the other sentinels were glad to keep under shelter. After taking two or three turns without looking up, he suddenly halted, raised his bayonet to the window, and we received a small scrap of paper, which contained these words, written in a hand we did not remember to have seen before. ‘At ten o’clock to-night, when the relief comes round, be ready to remove your grating and descend. Upon the ramparts, under the muzzle of the third gun from the sentry-box, you will find materials to assist in your descent, and below are disguises to put on. Be firm and resolute.’

“There was a something in the manner of this note that did not altogether please me; it raised suspicions I found it difficult to suppress; but to give any information of this to the grenadier was impossible; he returned to the spot no more. The next consideration was, how we were to descend; but that was readily suggested, by tearing our blankets into slips, and then twisting them together. To tell you the torturing suspense we endured, while the time passed heavily on, is beyond my power, but there was a novelty in our situation which lifted us to hope. Nine o’clock came, and our hearts beat in tumultuous disorder; we listened to the chiming of the quarters, and silently prepared for our removal. At last, we heard the first warning for ten, and we grasped each other’s hand with convulsive agitation. Every stroke of the sonorous bell vibrated on our hearts with sickly apprehension; it ceased, and all was silent, except the howling of the wind and the pelting of the rain. Shortly afterward, the sentinel challenged the relief, and hope and despair alternately took possession of my breast, but both urged me on in the same determined course.

“The night was uncommonly dark, tempestuous, and dreary, so that we could not discover the fresh sentry as he paced his post. After walking backwards and forwards several times, the noise of his footsteps ceased, and we heard the butt of his firelock brought to the ground as he entered the box. Another quarter of an hour elapsed, when we removed the bars, and secured our blanket rope. I descended first, without making the slightest noise; but poor Robinson slipped and struck the loose grating above, which instantly fell into the room. The sentinel started from his box, we heard the rattle of his arms, but all was instantly hushed, and the howling of the gale deadening the sound, he did not advance. Stretched on the wet pavement, while the rain poured down with impetuous fury, we remained motionless for nearly half an hour; when finding the sentry had returned to his box, we cautiously crawled away upon our hands and knees, till having attained a proper distance and rising on our feet, we slowly and silently followed the directions which had been given.

“Again the bell tolled eleven, as unseen we reached the spot; but the sentry here was on the alert, and we had time just to secrete ourselves, by laying at full length on the sloping descent of the rampart, when he passed the place; this he continued to do repeatedly, and we could distinctly hear his movements at every turn. At last, after a painful suspense, the heavy tread ceased; and stretching our hands out in various directions, we found beneath the muzzle of the gun, a rope coiled up. To secure one end to the carriage and pass the other down through the embrazure, was the work of a few minutes, and sliding over the battlements, the cord passed swiftly through my glowing hands; but what was my distress, on reaching the lower extremity, to find it was too short to allow of my touching the ground, and the darkness prevented my seeing what distance there was to fall. It was impossible to apprize my companion, for just at this instant I felt the rope violently agitated from above; the next moment it gave way, and I was precipitated down the rocks. How long I laid insensible, I cannot tell; a confused recollection sometimes passed across my mind of a piercing shriek mingling with the gale; but the fall had completely stunned me. Dreadful indeed were my feelings, on recovering from the shock to see, by the light of glistening flambeaux, two gens d’armes standing over me. I stretched out my hand to raise myself up; but oh, horror, horror! it fell upon the death-cold cheek of poor Robinson. Yes, there he lay by my side a mangled corpse—literary dashed to pieces by the fall. I tried to rise, but found every effort ineffectual; in short, both my ankles were dislocated. The barbarous wretches lifted me on my feet; but I again fell, and received another severe contusion on my head. Finding I was unable to walk, they extinguished their torches and carried me on their shoulders through the gates, till they stopped before a heavy grated door; here they were joined by a third person, closely wrapped in a horseman’s cloak. He opened the door, and taking from beneath his cloak a dark lantern, I was rapidly borne forward to those horrid dungeons, where a ray of daylight had never been admitted.

“After passing several massive entrances, they halted at a low door, and it swung upon its hinges; here they threw me down with bitter imprecations, and the gens d’armes withdrew. The individual who carried the lantern then approached me, and purposely turning the light upon his face, I beheld the fiend-like countenance of Wirrion; it was like a blasting vision to my sight, and the powers of utterance were denied me. He tried to laugh, but it resembled the yell of a demon. He gnashed his teeth, exclaiming, ‘Remember Adele!’ and turned the key upon his wretched captive. Oh, what was my agony as the last feeble glimmering of the lamp disappeared, and all around became the darkness of the grave,—still living—still breathing, yet, as I thought, entombed for ever! Happily insensibility crept over me for a time, but of its duration I am unable to speak. I was awoke to recollection by a confused sound which appeared to come from a distance, and then died away. Again the clashing of bayonets and the heavy tread of armed men seemed to approach, but my head was strangely bewildered. In a few minutes, however, I could distinctly hear voices, and recovering in some measure from my stupefaction, as they drew near, I gathered sufficient from their impetuous language to ascertain that another victim was about to be incarcerated in the dreary dungeons, and that victim our faithful friend—the grenadier. When they had reached my dungeon, he refused to proceed,—reproached them with their cruelty to an old man, and added, ‘Life at the longest, must be of short date to me; here satisfy your brutal malice!’ A heavy rush and the rattling of bayonets instantly succeeded, mingled with the curses of the guard; a yell—a wild yell followed, and something fell like a leaden weight, against the door of my dungeon; a bitter groan, as when the heart-strings break, vibrated through the vault, and a convulsive struggling noise, as if some poor wretch lay quivering in his last death-pang.

“The brutal soldiers exulted over their victim, and then slowly retraced their steps. Hitherto I had been silent, but now wrought up to a pitch of frenzy, I raved with desperate madness, entreating them to return and release me from my misery. In a few minutes they halted, and a dead silence ensued. Again I shrieked, and the rocky vaults prolonged the sound, as if a thousand voices joined my cries. The guard growled out their imprecations and departed. In vain I tried to get upon my feet; every effort increased my anguish, and as I extended my hands upon the stone floor of my cell, they fell upon some slimy reptile that filled me with abhorrence and with disgust. After repeated painful struggles, I crawled to the door; but receded on finding my hands immersed in what I first imagined to be water, but a heavy groan and then the tremulous gurgling of the breath in the throat of the dying man, convinced me it was blood. I called to him, but no answer was returned; I spoke with tenderness, mentioned who I was, but still all was silent except the groans of the wretched sufferer. Oh! how did I pour out my heart in prayer, for heaven to support me under the accumulated load of horror, or to remove me from existence.

“In about an hour afterwards, as near as I can conjecture, the door was violently shaken by his struggles; a sudden shriek, with the grinding of the teeth, and then a heavy deep-drawn sigh, told me the last efforts of frail mortality were over.

“But why need I enumerate the trials I underwent, the sufferings I endured. My daily scanty pittance was brought by an individual, upon whom every attempt to gain a single word was unavailing; so that at last I refrained from speaking. Often have I been compelled to wait hours beyond my time, racked with hunger and burning with feverish thirst. Once in rising too eagerly, I dashed the jug from the jailer’s hand, and no entreaties could move him to supply me with more. My raging thirst brought on delirium, and I fell into a lethargic stupor. Well do I remember it,—sweet dreams came over me, and I fancied I was ranging through some lovely meadows, where the eddying streamlet murmured over its shingly bed, clear and transparent as crystal. All the friends of my youth were surrounding me, and I heard their sweet welcomes to my home; my mother pressed me to her heart; my father grasped my hand with joy, whilst sisters and brothers hung in my embrace, and wept with rich delight. Then we sat down to the feast, and every luxury which could refresh the grief-worn prisoner was eagerly devoured. Oh! the agony of awaking from such a dream! Scorched with fever, and parched with burning heat,—it is impossible to picture it.

“How long I had remained in confinement was unknown to me. I had endeavoured to keep some trace upon my memory by the return of my food, but that was soon lost in the number. By almost constantly sitting with my legs extended, I recovered the use of my feet; but the cell was so low and contracted, that walking was impracticable. My clothes were in tatters; I was unwashed and unshaven, and my hair hung down in thick and matted flakes. How many victims of sanguinary malice have I heard in their last dying agonies! how many secret murders have been perpetrated in those vaults,—even at this moment I shudder at the recollection!

“When I was in a state bordering on brutalized indifference, my keeper was changed, and one of milder manners brought my food; this too was augmented, and I was indulged by many little acts of kindness to which I had long been a stranger. I had been sitting anxiously waiting his appearance, when sleep overpowered me, and the luxury of clean straw contributed to the sweetness of repose. I was awoke by some one gently shaking my shoulder, and raising myself beheld—oh! what were my sensations—it was Adele. ‘I am mistaken,’ said she, gazing at my haggard looks, and trembling with alarm. But when I called her by name, she sunk senseless by my side. What a moment was that, when after every hope had vanished, when those sweet feelings which are best and dearest to man were dying in my heart, thus to be recalled to life,—to be awakened to the world, and once more to hold in my arms the dear treasure which bound my spirit down to earth!—Forgive me, my friend, for I cannot restrain my feelings.

“When she recovered, she stared wildly upon my emaciated face, and then springing up, tore herself away. ‘Rise!’ said she in a tone of bitterness, ‘rise! and follow me!’ But this was no easy task, and the voice of command from Adele struck heavy on my heart. I had been so little used to exercise, that walking was almost death to me. Adele perceived it, and in a tone of softened tenderness she implored me to lean on her, and burst into tears. ‘Why are you here, Adele?’ exclaimed I; ‘why are you my deliverer, and how could you discover my prison?’ She indistinctly murmured the name of Wirrion, and the truth instantly flashed upon my mind. ‘You are—Adele, can it be?’ and I felt a suffocating weight upon my breast. ‘Adele you have sacrificed yourself for me!’ The exertion overpowered my weakness, and I sunk senseless at her feet.

“On recovering my recollection, I found myself in a comfortable apartment, and an attendant sitting by my side. ‘Where is she?’ said I, ‘where is Adele?’—‘Alas! alas!’ replied the man, shaking his head, ‘monsieur est tres mal au tete.’ ‘Tell me,’ exclaimed I, ‘tell me, I conjure you, where I am, and where is—but no, no, I recollect it now.’ The man again shook his head and repeated his observation. At this moment an aged female entered the room, and finding me rational, she sat by my side, and from her conversation I learned that I was in Germany, having been brought thither about a fortnight before in a state of insanity by some French troopers. That since then the fever had been very powerful, and my life had been despaired of. ‘And Wirrion?’ said I. She made no answer, nor did she appear to comprehend the question;—indeed I afterwards found that she was totally unacquainted with my history, but that a sum of money had been left to provide for my maintenance.

“By wholesome food and kind treatment my recovery was rapid, and I was soon enabled to return to my native land. But misery seemed to follow me still; my parents were numbered with the dead, and the report of my untimely fate had hastened their departure. Their property was divided amongst my brothers and sisters, who were most of them married, and they now treated me as one who had risen from the grave to rob them of their rights. Disgusted and sick at heart, I once more embarked in the service of my country, and received the reward dear to every British officer’s heart,—promotion.

“Fortune now smiled upon me, and her golden favours were showered with an unsparing hand. Still Adele, the beautiful, tender, self-devoted Adele, constantly occupied my mind; in dreams, in visions of the night, Adele was ever present to my memory, and through the duties of the day the debt of gratitude was never banished from my heart. I heard that Wirrion had been summoned to give an account of his stewardship; but unable to meet the frowns and sentence of Napoleon, had done justice upon himself and perished by his own hands. But all inquiries after Adele had been useless; yet I had sworn never to love another, and my oath was kept inviolate.

“As soon as peace between the two countries was declared, I crossed the Channel, and from thence hastened to Verdun. The vineyard still remained, though in ruins, and the ashes of the cottage were strewed upon the plain. No one could tell me of Adele. The inhabitants of the house at which I had lodged were mourning for the loss of their brave sons, whom Bonaparte had compelled to enter the army; age had dimmed their sight, but sorrow more. I told them who I was, and they recoiled from me in doubt and perplexity. However, I soon convinced them, and then I heard that Wirrion had buried poor Robinson, and reported that both our remains were contained in the same coffin, and interred in the same grave. I inquired for Adele and Euphemia; the latter was dead, but of the former they could give me no information, and after a fruitless search I bent my way to Paris.

“One day having dined with several British officers, we took a stroll in the evening through the city, and on arriving at the Palais Royale, a number of persons had assembled round an itinerant singer; but as she was not then engaged, we were passing on, when our steps were suddenly arrested by a sweet plaintive voice, pouring forth those thrilling notes which, like inspiration, almost enchant the soul. We drew near the crowd, but how shall I describe my agitation when I heard the self-same chanson which Adele had sung so exquisitely when I first beheld her? Old remembrances rushed upon my mind, and unconsciously putting aside those who opposed my progress, I advanced close to the singer. Her back was toward me, and her voice seemed faltering as if shaken by bitter recollections; but when she arrived near the close, her tones were scarcely audible. At that moment she turned; I gazed upon her features, and the next instant she was in my arms,—it was herself—it was Adele!

“Why need I repeat every transaction? Together we returned to England, and she became my wife;—yes, mine by every tie, both human and divine. She told me her tale of sorrow, but I cannot relate it now. Her sufferings had been on my account, and I was determined to heal the wounded spirit and bind up the broken heart. The world condemned and shunned me, but what had I to do with the world? Adele was all to me, and in her dear society I forgot my sorrows. Not but that she was changed: circumstances had much altered the natural sweetness of her temper, and the mode of life she had pursued contributed to deaden the finer feelings of the heart; but she was the deliverer who saved me from destruction, and I thought only of our meeting at the gathering in of the vintage.

“We lived happily together, away from the bustle, the turmoil, and what is falsely called the pleasures of life. A small cottage in the country was our home, and there we enjoyed peace and contentment. My fortune was ample, with but few desires to be gratified; and I have deeply to regret that I was unacquainted with your residence in my neighbourhood, for your society would have been an additional happiness.

“But ah! how fleeting are all our joys. It was on the early part of that day, when you saw me kneeling over a new-made grave, that I had consigned the last remains of my Adele to the narrow home appointed as a resting-place from earthly trouble. Yes, she is gone, I trust, to the realms of everlasting bliss, where no sorrow can disturb; no pain be felt; but where there is fulness of joy for evermore?”