Since that time, however, Squire Lee, by means of his horrible traffic in ardent spirits, has added house to house and farm to farm, until he has been easily persuaded by his son, that his only daughter ought to look higher in her choice of a husband. Not that brotherly affection was so strong in Joseph. Dislike to Allen was his ruling motive. They had been schoolmates; and though from love to the gentle sister, Allen had tried to show, at least, kindness to her brother, yet he could not always conceal his displeasure at Joseph's conduct. A slight or neglect this haughty young man never forgot. He only waited his time to make sure his revenge. Since Allen's intimacy with the family, he had indeed treated him with outward politeness; yet he hated him on account of his strong, and oft expressed disapprobation of the course he was pursuing, and the character of his companions. In this way he had gradually worked his mind into such a state, that there was no calamity too great for him to visit upon Allen, had it been in his power.
Such was their relation, when it occurred to the poor drunken creature, (for no less was he a drunkard because his wines were imported from Europe at four dollars a bottle; and his Cogniac the best which could be obtained,) to revenge himself upon Allen by depriving him of Lucy. He neither thought, nor cared for the sorrow it would cause her loving heart. He went to work with a zeal worthy of a better cause. By speaking in a disparaging tone of him to his father, he gradually led him to view the young man as no longer suitable in rank or station to be allied to a daughter of their house.
Poor Lucy! At first she gently tried to defend her lover from inuendoes, and insinuations which her brother took care should be in such general terms, they could not be met and refuted. Every one is aware how much worse than an open accusation are implications like the following: – "If I were to tell what I know, Allen Mansfield would be hooted out of good society. He is called clever, but I wouldn't ensure his honor nor his virtue."
It was not strange that Squire Lee, who had long suffered himself to be guided; nay, almost governed by his son, and who was much enfeebled in mind by the free use of brandy, determined to break the match, nor that he one day, when he had drunk so much that he could hardly stand, almost broke her heart by commanding her to dismiss Allen, or he himself would do it.
The wretched girl had had many doubts and misgivings whereunto these things would grow, and had shed many bitter tears in secret; but as she had no idea of the extent of her brother's malice, nor of the strength of his determination upon revenge, she had never conceived so dreadful a result.
For a week, she was obliged to keep her bed, being almost overwhelmed with sorrow. Dear girl! the thought never entered her mind that it could be possible to resist so unjust a sentence. Allen, however, was of different temperament. Naturally gentle and kind, yet when his indignation was roused, he had the courage of a lion.
Having heard that Lucy was sick, he hastened to inquire for her. It so happened that he went to the house when Squire Lee was alone, and more than usually under the influence of reason. Though he forbid his visiting Lucy, or having anything more to say to her, as he expressed it, yet he did so in a less offensive manner than on the occasion of his interview with his daughter.
The consequence was that the young man did not feel called upon to obey him, but in a day or two called again, having waited in vain for an answer to several letters, he had written to Lucy. On this occasion, however, his visit was not so well timed. Joseph was with his father, who had not yet recovered from his heavy potations of wine and brandy at dinner, and who, therefore, was easily strengthened by his son in his cruel purpose.
A dreadful scene ensued. Allen, whose heart-interest was at stake, determined, for the sake of her whom he loved, to be respectful to her father. But he was not prepared to withstand the perfect torrent of wrath which burst upon him. When he entered and inquired for Lucy, Joseph sneeringly said, "My sister shall never marry a mean scoundrel like you."
Paying no attention to this, which, however, made his blood boil, he turned to the old gentleman, saying, "You surely cannot be in earnest in trying to separate your daughter and myself. Your deceased wife was my friend; and she as well as yourself gave a ready consent to our union." In the midst of his wrath Squire Lee was a little softened by the tone and manner of the young man, as well as by the mention of his wife, whom he had loved next to himself. He was about to speak more kindly, when Joseph, perceiving his intention, interrupted him.
"Lucy Lee will be an heiress; no wonder you are loath to give up her wealth."
Allen turned deadly pale from suppressed emotion, but controlling his feelings, said, "Squire Lee, I ask again the hand of your daughter. I will gladly take her without one farthing of your hoarded wealth."
Joseph whispered something in his father's ear, who replied, "all very fine, young man —very fine talk" (hiccough) "indeed; but you – can't have her. You see" (hiccough) "we've," with a cunning look at Joseph, "other views for her."
Allen could contain himself no longer, and in a terrible voice denounced both father and son as inhuman and brutal in their conduct. "The time will surely come," he added, "when you will bitterly regret your cruelty toward her, and your abuse of me."
Were these prophetic words?
Joseph, who was beside himself with rage, flew at Allen, and aimed a violent blow at his head, which the young man dexterously warded off.
Poor Lucy, who had been attracted by the noise below, sprang from her bed, and having thrown on a loose robe, rushed wildly into the room. All stood for one moment speechless with astonishment at her presence, and frightful pallor. She threw herself at her father's feet, begging him not to break her heart. She frantically invoked the spirit of her departed mother to intercede for her, but alas! to no effect. Squire Lee sat motionless while Joseph in a fury rang the bell, and said to the porter, "turn that rascal out of the house."
Allen, seeing there was no hope for him or his dearly beloved Lucy, suddenly caught her in his arms, held her for one brief moment to his breast, bade her farewell, and left the house. There was a sincerity in his grief, a dignity in his manner, which made even the hard hearts of both brother and father quail.
Here at Emily's request, Lucy continued the narrative. "I cannot remember what immediately followed; but when I recovered my consciousness, I was in my own room. Mrs. Burns the house-keeper, almost my only friend and confidant, stood bathing my hands and face. From that time I gave up all hope of happiness with Allen, though he has never ceased to write me the most tender letters, urging me not to despair, but to hope on, and hope ever."
"Love in the earnest mind is not a dream,
To fade in sorrow, or grow dim by age,
But a most true outpouring of the soul;
A pledge of faith, that looking from the past,
And through the present – sees beyond it all
Hope unaffected by earth's weary change."
"I have never written in reply, but have sent messages of unchangeable and undying love. I begged Mrs. Burns, through whom alone we could communicate, to tell my dear Allen, that though I could not marry him in defiance of my father's command; yet I would not marry another. He would never cease to be dearer to me than life."
The distressed girl wept so much, that Emily resumed. Weeks passed on, and Joseph encouraged by her passive obedience, began to think he could now bestow her hand to his own advantage.
Among the vile acquaintances which he had formed in a neighboring city, was Mr. William Arnold, a man about thirty years of age, of whose elegant dress and accomplishments Joseph was never tired of talking. He was often at the house, and Lucy from an instinctive feeling of dislike avoided him as much as possible. She was obliged to meet him at the table, and to treat him with civility as a guest. She says she has sometimes questioned herself as to the ground of her prejudice against him. He is tall, of an elegant figure, and very free, easy manners. He converses well, and has rendered himself a favorite with the old gentleman; but there is a look in his eye which she says cannot be trusted. Then the fact of his being so intimate with her brother is strongly against him.
But when Mr. Arnold began to exhibit a fondness for her society, and whispered soft nothings