The folding doors which separated the two s.p.a.cious parlors in Mr.

Goldworthy's house were thrown open, forming a vast hall, brilliantly illuminated by superb chandeliers, and decorated with every appliance of modern elegance and taste. About a dozen relatives and friends of the family had a.s.sembled to witness the ceremony; among them were several of the wealthiest members of the Boston aristocracy. There was the gray-headed millionaire, who has made his name famous by the magnificence of his donations to public inst.i.tutions which are already wealthy enough; but then such liberal gifts are heralded in the newspapers, and his name is blazoned forth as the great philanthropist; and--it really is so troublesome to give to the suffering poor; besides, the world seldom hears of deeds of unostentatious charity. Now, we are one of those plain people who like to look at things in the light of common reason, without regard to high-sounding t.i.tles, or lofty a.s.sociations; and it is our unpretending opinion that the G.o.d of charity and mercy looks down with much greater approbation upon the act of feeding a starving family, or comfortably clothing a few of His naked little ones, than upon the bestowal of twenty or thirty thousand dollars on this or that University, for the purpose of endowing a Professor of Humbugonomy, that he may initiate a cla.s.s of learned blockheads into the mysteries of star-gazing, patient-killing, legal fleecing, or cheating the devil by turning parson.

Besides the gray-headed millionaire, to whom we have thus particularly alluded, there was the young lady who boasts of being heiress to hundreds of thousands of dollars; consequently, of course, she is unanimously voted to be "charming--divine--perfection!" Her beauty is p.r.o.nounced angelic; her accomplishments are the theme of universal admiration. "Oh, she is an unsurpa.s.sable creature!" exclaim the whole tribe of contemptible, sycophantic, brainless calves in broadcloth, who are ever ready to fall down and worship the golden emblem of themselves.

And yet she is pug-nosed, freckle-faced, and red-headed; insolent to her equals, coa.r.s.ely familiar with her inferiors; her vulgarity is without wit, her affectation is devoid of elegance or grace; ignorant and stupid, the meanest kitchen wench would suffer by a comparison with her. In striking contrast with this ludicrous specimen of degraded aristocracy, there were several young ladies present who were really lovely and accomplished women. These were the personal friends of Alice; they had come to witness her nuptials with the magnificent Chevalier.

Precisely as the clock struck eight, Duvall entered the apartment, and saluted the company with that exquisite and gentlemanly grace for which he was distinguished. With difficulty could the a.s.sembled guests refrain from expressing their admiration aloud; for his appearance was singularly grand and imposing. In his dress, not the slightest approach to foppery could be detected; all was faultless elegance. In his dark eyes and on his proud features an observer could read the lofty triumph which he felt; for was not he, an unknown and perhaps penniless adventurer, about to wed the beautiful and accomplished daughter of one of Boston's "merchant princes"?

Soon the clergyman arrived, and Alice was summoned to take her part in the solemn ceremony which was about to be performed. She was dressed in simple white, her only ornaments consisting of a few natural flowers among the rich cl.u.s.ters of her shining hair.

She was very beautiful; the flush of happiness suffused her cheeks--her eyes sparkled with ineffable joy. Oh, terrible sacrifice!

The ceremony proceeds; the solemn words are spoken. 'Tis all over--friends crowd around with their congratulations--there are smiles, and blushes, and tears; but a deep sense of happiness pervades every heart. Alice is the wife of Duvall, by the sacred rites of the church, in the sight of Heaven, and before men. The Chevalier pressed her madly to his heart, while

"Unto the ground she cast her modest eye, And, ever and anon, with rosy red, The bashful blush her snowy cheeks did dye."

Then came music, and the merry dance--and finally, a repast, that rivalled in luxury the banquet of an emperor. In the midst of the supper, in obedience to the secret signal of one of her bridesmaids, Alice stole away, and was conducted by a charming _coterie_ of her female friends, to Hymen's sacred retreat, the nuptial chamber--which nothing should induce us to invade, gentle reader, were it not necessary to do so in order to develop a scene in our narrative, which cannot possibly be omitted.

It was an apartment of but moderate size; yet it was a gem of luxurious comfort. Everything was in the most perfect taste; and it was evident by a certain refined delicacy in all the arrangements, that the fair Alice herself had superintended the preparations. Happy the man who should bestow the first chaste kiss of wedded love, upon the pure lips of a lovely bride, within that soft bower of voluptuousness!

She is disrobed; from her virgin limbs are removed the snowy garments; she is coquettishly arrayed in the seductive costume of bewitching night! She blushes, and is almost painfully embarra.s.sed; for never before have her glowing charms been contemplated thus, even by female eyes. She finds herself at last reclining within the luxurious folds of the magnificent nuptial couch; then her kind friends kiss her--bid her a smiling good-night--and leave her to await the coming of her husband.

For the first time, her bosom heaves tumultuously with emotions which she acknowledges to be delightful, though she cannot comprehend them.

But where, meanwhile, is the happy bridegroom? He is at the head of the splendid board, responding to the many toasts which are proposed in his honor, and that of his lovely and expectant bride. Again and again he fills the goblet, and quaffs the foaming champagne. He fascinates everybody by his rare eloquence--his inimitable wit; Mr. Goldworthy congratulates himself on his good fortune in having secured so charming--so talented a son-in-law. The dark eyes of the Chevalier sparkle almost fearfully; his superb countenance is flushed with wine and pa.s.sion. This rosy G.o.d of the grape has nearly conquered him; he is more than half intoxicated. Losing his habitual caution, he launches forth into the recital of the most brilliant and daring adventures in intrigue, fraud and robbery, he relates these events with a gusto that would seem to indicate his having taken a leading part in them himself.

The guests are startled, and view him with an admiration mixed with fear. The Chevalier drinks deeper and deeper. Wilder and more exciting grow his narratives; he tells strange tales of the Italian banditti--of pirates upon the Spanish main--of dashing French pickpockets--of bold English highwaymen--of desperate American burglars, and of expert counterfeiters. Mr. Goldworthy, at last, begins to regard him with a feeling akin to suspicion. "Who can this man be," he mentally asks himself--"that talks so familiarly of every species of crime and villainy? Is he a fitting husband for my pure and gentle daughter? Can he have been a partic.i.p.ant in those lawless adventures which he so eloquently describes? I like not the dark frown upon his brow, nor the fierce glances of his eyes. But tush! of what am I thinking? I must not harbor unjust suspicions against the husband of my child; he is merely somewhat excited by the generous wine, and probably derived his knowledge of these matters from the romances of the day. 'Tis best that he should drink no more at present; I will therefore hint to him that it is high time for a loyal bridegroom to retire to the arms of his expectant bride. He surely will not disregard so tempting a suggestion, for my Alice is very like her mother, and egad! on _my_ wedding night, twenty years ago, I needed no second hint to induce me to fly eagerly to _her_ arms. Ah, I was young then, and old age plays sad havoc with us!"

The worthy old gentleman whispered a few moments in the ear of the Chevalier. The latter arose with a flushed cheek and a flashing eye.

"Thanks for the hint, good father-in-law," he cried, draining another goblet of wine--"I have paid my devoirs to Bacchus; now will I worship at the shrine of Venus!"

With rather an unsteady gait he left the apartment, and, under the guidance of two lovely, blushing, t.i.ttering damsels, sought the nuptial chamber. At the door of that sacred retreat, his fair guides left him.

He entered--and the black-hearted villain, stained with a thousand crimes, stood in the presence of angel purity.

And now, fain would we draw a curtain over what followed--but if we did so, our task would be incomplete. We therefore pa.s.s over the delicate details with as much rapidity as the nature of the case will admit.

The Chevalier advanced to the couch, and viewed his bride; evading his ardent gaze, she turned away, her maiden cheek glowing with blushes.

Upon the snowy pillow, in rich ma.s.ses, lay her luxuriant hair; her modestly veiled bosom, whose voluptuousness of outline no drapery could entirely conceal, heaved tumultuously with gushing joy, and holy happiness, and pure pa.s.sion, and maidenly fear. Her small, exquisite hand, on whose taper fore-finger glittered a magnificent diamond ring, (her husband's gift,) rested upon the gorgeous counterpane, like a snow-flake upon a cl.u.s.ter of roses.

Still the Chevalier profanes not that pure form with his unhallowed touch; perchance some unseen power, the guardian of spotless innocence, restrains him. Placing himself before the splendid mirror, he begins to remove his superb garments with a deliberation and a composure that astonishes even himself.

As each article of dress is successively thrown aside, the magnificent symmetry of that man's unrivalled form becomes more and more apparent.

Though of a build unusually powerful, his limbs possess all the grace and suppleness of the Apollo Belvedere. He is one of those rare combinations of strength and beauty, so often represented by cla.s.sic statuary, yet so seldom seen in a living model.

His task is at length completed; he is in the primeval costume of nature. Complacently he surveys his reflection in the mirror; for he is fully conscious of his great personal advantages, and, in the vanity of his heart, he wishes to display them to the enraptured gaze of his bride. And she--who will say that she does not stealthily contemplate his symmetrical proportions with secret satisfaction--for what woman could, under such peculiar circ.u.mstances, be indifferent to the physical advantages possessed by the man of her choice?

Alas! how suddenly did poor Alice's golden dream of happiness vanish forever!

For there--upon her husband's naked breast--in black characters of d.a.m.ning distinctness--is _branded_ the ghastly, hideous words--"CONVICTED FELON!!"

Alice uttered one piercing scream, and fainted.

The marriage guests below had not yet departed. They heard that awful cry, which seemed to be the very concentration of all human anguish. Mr.

Goldworthy started to his feet, and his cheeks grew ashy pale.

"My friends," said he, in a low tone--"there is something wrong with my child. Remain here, and I will ascertain the cause of this strange outcry."

Having armed himself with a pistol, he repaired to his daughter's chamber, which he entered without ceremony; for when does a father stand on ceremony, when he believes the safety of his only child to be in danger? There, in the centre of the room, confused and abashed, stood the nude form of the Chevalier; and there, upon his breast, did Mr.

Goldworthy behold the accursed brand of crime which had horrified his daughter, and elicited her piercing scream.

"_Convicted felon!_" gasped the old gentleman, almost disbelieving the evidence of his own senses. "Good G.o.d! am I dreaming, or do I actually behold that awful badge of infamy branded upon the flesh of the husband of my child! Almighty heaven, thy judgments are inscrutable, but this blow is too much--too much!"

He buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. The Chevalier, by a powerful effort, recovered his accustomed a.s.surance and presence of mind.

"Come, my good sir," said he--"don't get in such a bad way about a few insignificant letters which are stamped upon me. I pledge you my honor 'twas merely done in jest, in a thoughtless moment. Pray retire, and leave me to console my bride for her silly fright."

"Liar and villain!" cried the old man--"would'st thou, with a red-hot iron, brand such words as _those_ upon thee, in jest? Thou are a convicted scoundrel--an impostor--a murderer, for aught I know. Thou hast no claim upon my poor girl, who now lies there, insensible; the marriage is null and void!"

"Pooh--nonsense!" said the Chevalier, very coolly--"you make a devil of a fuss about a very small matter. This brand is but the consequence of a youthful folly--crime, if you will--of which I have long since repented, I a.s.sure you. A ruffled shirt will always conceal it from the world's prying gaze; your daughter and yourself are the only persons who will ever know of its existence; why, then, should it interfere with our matrimonial arrangements?"

"Dare you parley with me, villain?" cried Mr. Goldworthy, growing more and more indignant at the other's impudent a.s.surance. "Hark'ee, sir," he continued, "the mystery which has always surrounded you, has been anything but favorable to your reputation, for _honest_ men are seldom reluctant to disclose all that concerns their past career and present pursuits. But your d.a.m.nable effrontery, and the accursed fascination of your manners, overcame all our suspicions relative to you; you were regarded as an honorable man, and a gentleman. Unfortunately, my Alice loved you, and in an evil moment I consented to your union. This evening, at the wine table, when you discoursed so learnedly and eloquently upon the exploits of daring villains, the thought struck me that you must have derived your knowledge of them from personal intimacy; but I instantly discarded the suspicion as unworthy of myself and unjust to you. But now--now your guilt can no longer be questioned, for its history is written there, upon your breast! Scoundrel, I might hand you over to the iron grasp of the law, but I will not; resume your garments, and leave this chamber--for your vile presence contaminates the very atmosphere, and 'tis no place for you!"

"No, you will not hand me over to the law, neither will you expose me,"

said the Chevalier, his lip curling with proud disdain. "Listen to me, old man: you are right--I _am_ a villain--nay, more; I glory in the t.i.tle. Am I not candid with you?--and yet you, yourself, will be as anxious as I can be, to keep the world ignorant of the fact that I am a villain,--for will the aristocratic Mr. Goldworthy consent that the public shall know that his beautiful daughter Alice is married to a branded criminal? Being perfectly safe, what need is there of concealment on my part? Know, then, that I am an escaped convict from Botany Bay, to which colony I was transported from England, for an atrocious crime. This brand upon my breast was placed there as a punishment for having attempted to murder one of my guards. I have been a pirate, a robber, a highwayman, a burglar, and (but let me whisper this word in your ear,) a _murderer_! Ha, ha, ha! how do you like your son-in-law now?"

"Monster, out of my sight!" cried the old man, shuddering.

"Softly, softly," said the Chevalier, with imperturbable calmness--"you have not heard all yet; of my skill as a pickpocket, you yourself have had ample proof, for 'twas I who relieved you of the valuable package last night; yet you dare not prosecute me--for am I not your son-in-law?

But curses on my own indiscretion, in allowing wine to overcome my habitual prudence! For had I not been partially intoxicated, think you this mark of guilt would have been so easily discovered? No, believe me--"

"Silence, villain!" thundered Mr. Goldworthy, no longer able to contain his indignation at the cool effrontery of the Chevalier--"I have bandied words with you too long already; you see this pistol?--you are unarmed; I give you five minutes to dress yourself and leave the house; if you are not gone at the end of that time, I swear by the living G.o.d to shoot you through the head."

These last words were p.r.o.nounced with a calmness that left no doubt of their sincerity on the mind of the Chevalier. Villain as he was, he was brave even to desperation; yet he had no particular wish to be hurried into eternity so unceremoniously. He therefore commenced dressing himself, while Mr. Goldworthy stood with the pistol c.o.c.ked and pointed at his head with a deadly aim.

Meanwhile, the unfortunate Alice recovered from her swoon. Starting up in bed, she cast a hurried glance at her father and the discomfited Chevalier. That glance was sufficient to reveal to her the true state of affairs; and covering her face with her hands, she wept bitterly.

Who can comprehend the depth and devotedness of woman's love? Could it be possible that there still lingered in her crushed heart a single atom of affection for that branded villain, who had so cruelly deceived her?

Philosophy may condemn her--human reason itself may scoff at her--but from her pure heart could not utterly be obliterated the sincere and holy love which she had conceived for that unworthy object. To her might have been applied the beautiful words of the poet Campbell:

"Let the eagle change his plume, The leaf its hue, the flower its bloom, But ties around that heart were spun Which would not, could not be undone."

Before the expiration of the prescribed five minutes, the Chevalier was dressed, and ready to depart. Turning towards Alice, he regarded her with a look which was eloquently expressive of grief, remorse and sorrow. His breast heaved convulsively; he was evidently struggling with the most powerful emotions. A single tear rolled down his cheek--he hastily wiped it away--murmured, "Farewell, Alice, forever!"--and reminded by an imperious gesture from her father that the scene could continue no longer, he turned calmly and walked out of the room. Mr.

Goldworthy followed him to the street door, and saw him depart from the house; then, with a deep-drawn sigh, he returned to his guests, who were naturally eager to know the nature of the difficulty. In answer to their inquiries, the old gentleman said--

"My dear friends, do not, I entreat you, press me for an explanation of this most melancholy affair. Suffice it for me to say, the Chevalier Duvall has proved himself to be utterly unworthy of my daughter. The marriage which has taken place, though not legally void, is _morally_ so. I beg of everyone present to respect my feelings as a father and as a man, so far as to preserve a strict silence in reference to this painful matter. The Chevalier Duvall has departed from the house, and will never see my daughter more."

The required promise was given, and the guests took their leave, experiencing feelings of a far different nature from those which had animated them at the commencement of the evening. They had come in the happy antic.i.p.ation of witnessing the consummation of a beloved friend's felicity; they went away oppressed by a painful uncertainty as to the nature of the difficulty which had arisen in reference to the husband, and chilled by a fear that the earthly happiness of poor Alice was destroyed forever.

The Chevalier returned to the d.u.c.h.ess, to apprise her of the total ruin of his matrimonial schemes, in consequence of the _fatal brand_ upon his person having been discovered; and we return to f.a.n.n.y Aubrey, who had been conveyed by Jew Mike to the "_Chambers of Love_," in obedience to the directions given him by the Hon. Timothy Tickels.