University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

Edward suffered himself to be conducted the whole length of the gorgeous
saloon, and passed with him into the billiard-room. This was an elegant
hall, and the tables and furniture were of the richest description.—
Several young gentlemen in blue or scarlet smoking caps, and round linen
jackets were at play, while at each table was stationed a beautiful young
girl as marker. Like the outer saloon there was an eye in the whole arrangement
to the allurement of the young and gay: and youths innumerable
here first caught the mortal infection of vice, concealed under a gilded
surface. There was many a fair youth but a few weeks from a hallowed
home, and for whom, perhaps, at the very moment that Edward was gazing
round upon them with surprise at their number and youthfulness, the
prayer of a mother or sister were then ascending, that God would protect
them from the snares of the metropolis, and guard their hearts pure from the
vices that would tempt them from integrity and virtue.

`This is a sad scene,' thought Edward, as he crossed this apartment and
entered a small and elegant withdrawing room, richly carpeted and curtained,
and lined with velvet ottomans. It was softly lighted by solar lamps.

`Here we are alone,' said Levis, glancing round the room. `We are fortunate
in finding it empty. This is on purpose for private conversations.—
Now we are seated by this marble table, I am ready to hear you and to
serve you,' said Levis in a tone less affected than he had hitherto used.

`What I desire of you is this, my dear sir,' said Edward, and he then
proceeded to inform him of the scenes that had taken place in the lobby.
When he had ended Levis was thoughtful a moment.

`You say this person's name is Frazier?'

`So I was told by a by-stander of whom I enquired.'

`You did not give him your card, nor take his?'

`No; I merely said I should demand an apology for his language.'

`Certainly, my dear Austin. You could not let such a thing pass. You
did right. Frazier? had he gray eyes, and an imperial, with a fair complexion,
and tall, with great breadth across the shoulders?'

`Yes!'

`It is Douglas Frazier! He is addressing a Miss —, whom I saw enter
the theatre with him, and it was she, doubtless, whom your friend Harry
Collins was so unfortunate as to insult so grossly. Douglas Frazier—for I
see you are about to ask me who he is—is a man of good property, left him
by his mother. He has been abroad, returned with a mustache and European
(that is a medley of French, English, German and Italian, with a touch
of the Russian manners and habits,) and now sets up for a fine man about
town. He has the reputation of having fought a duel in Austria with an
Englishman, but this is questionable. But he presumes much upon it, and
mainly depends upon this capital for his reputation.'

`You must take a note from me in the morning, Levis,' said Edward very
positively. I am willing now to overlook what he said to me, and if I
thought he would not expect to hear from me, I would let it drop, for I was
quicker than was advisable.'

`He will of course expect to hear from you. If you let it pass without

doing any thing after having so positively committed yourself, he would
proclaim every where that you were a coward.

`It is too late, I see, to withdraw. I will write a note which you shall deliver
to him. It is, mark you, Levis, by no means my purpose to call him
out. A duel is farthest from my thoughts There is no doubt, when he
reads my note, that he will render me a full apology.'

`Perhaps,' answered Levis dryly and doubtfully; and by no means desirous
that he should apologise; for like all idle men of his class he was in
his element with an affair of this kind, in fact, for the employment of his
passions and time; besides there is a sort of eclat attached to such matters,
greatly coveted by such persons.

There was on a side-table the most elegant arrangements made for writing.
Letter paper, gilded note paper, ivory handled pens, silver ink-stands,
particolored and fancy wafers, tasteful seals, were all at hand. While Edward
was writing, Levis deliberately pulled the bell. It was answered by
a young girl.

`Champagne, my dear,' he said in a tone so as not to disturb his friend.

When Edward completed his note, he looked up to read it, and seeing
with surprise a bottle of Champagne and glasses standing on a silver waiter
before Levis, he turned pale and trembled; for he had, while in the carriage
alone, on his way there, been thinking of wine to drive away his gloom,
but without the resolution either to banish the idea, or to indulge the temptation.
He now felt such a strong desire for it, on seeing it, (for he knew
it would deaden his sensibilities, which were to acute for his peace of mind,)
that he knew he should drink with Levis if invited; and therefore he had
shuddered: for `to will was present with him; but how to perform that
which is good he found not. The good that he would, he did not; but the
evil which he would not, that he did.' There was `a law in his members
warring against the law of his mind and bringing him into captivity' to the
law of death, and making him a bond servant to intemperance. He felt
this most bitterly, and felt like crying out with the Apostle though from a
different cause,

`O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?'

`Here is my note,' he said in a husky tone. `See if it will do.' And he
thus read:

`It is the very thing, Austin,' answered Levis with delight. `You understand
the phraseology duello, I see in superb style! I will take it to him in
the morning, while he is at breakfast. He boards at the Carlton. Now
my boy, let us take a glass of Champaigne—Napoleon brand. You look
fagged, and this will put life into you.'

`As he spoke, he cut the wire, the cork flew with a report, and the foaming
wine sparkled in both of the tall glasses.

`Here's to your success with Frazier.'

Edward took up the glass and drank it off in and with a sort of desperate
air. He had hardly set the glass down empty, when the door opened
gently and De Witt Wittlesey came half in, half retreated, and still held
the door without departing, but lingering as if expecting to be invited to
come in.

`Ah, De Witt, come in! we are through our little matters, said Levis.

`Perhaps I intrude' he said entering and shutting the door with great
confidence.

`No, come in and take a glass of wine.'

Before midnight, the three had drank six bottles of wine, and Edward
had to be escorted home between the two, who were only steadier than
himself because they had more seasoned heads. When they reached the
hotel they found themselves, however, too drunk to get to their own lodging
and each of them having to be assisted up stairs by a pair of servants.

When Edward awoke the next morning, he found himself lying upon his
bed fully dressed with his boots, and even his hat on, which was jammed
tightly over his eyes. It took him some minutes to recollect himself, and
throw off a crowd of dreadful ideas that filled his mind. At length he sat
up in bed, and began to think. The event of the night rushed vividly upon
after another upon his consciousness. till unable to endure the horrors of
his feelings, he leaped from the bed and violently rung the bell.

`Bring me some brandy!' he demanded in a stern and sullen tone as the
servant entered.

It was brought to him on a waiter with water, sugar and lemon. He
had never drank brandy. But he had an instinctive feeling that it would
quicker hush his conscience than wine, for which he suddenly felt a loathing.
He prepared his draught and drank it off without suffering himself to
think upon what he was doing.

`Where is Roundy?' he fiercely interrogated the servant.

`He is in his room, sir.'

`What does he do there, the lazy fellow. Send him to me.'

`His leg, sir.'

His leg! What do you stand the gaping for? What do you mean by
his leg?'

`We told you when you came home last night, sir.'

`Told me? I—I—recollect being told nothing.'

`You know, sir, he broke his leg.'

`Broke his leg? Roundy?' asked Edward in amazement.

`Yes, Sir. You see he got somehow to drinking after dinner, and got
tipsy, sir; and as he war'nt used to it, it turned his brain, and so he went
to dancing on the sky light, sir, and fell thro', as of course he would, to the
next floor, and broke his leg!'

`And you say he is in bed? Has a surgeon been with him?'

`Oh, yes, Sir. Every thing was done for him, and I heerd one o' the women
say as how he was easier this mornin' sir.'

Edward buried his face in his hands, groaned heavily with anguish of
soul, and sunk down by his bedside with his face in his pillow.

`Poor Roundy! Poor, poor Roundy! This is my act! I have done this!
I! Oh, God where will the consequences of my folly end!'

He lay sometime giving himself up to despair and self-accusation; at
length he rose up and went to see the simple victim of his example.—
When the poor youth saw him enter, his eyes brightened, and he suppressed
a groan of suffering.

`I am glad to see you, Master Nedward,' he said affectionately.

`Poor Roundy! This is a sad accident!'

`If I live 'twill cure me, Master Nedward!'

`Cure you?'

`Yes, Master Nedward! I was takin' to drinkin' and I dont know what
would ha' been the end and upshot if I had'nt broke my leg. But its a lesson.
I'd rather broked my leg than been a drunken dog! Its cured me
Master Nedward. I only tried it once, and here I am for it!' here Roundy
groaned with pain.

`You suffer a great deal!

`Not so much as I did, Master Nedward, when the doctor and four men
sot my leg. But I dont suffer on my own account. It is'nt my bones as I
suffers most in; its thinkin.'

`Thinking?'

`Yes. I thinks about you, Master Nedward, and this troubles me. I see
you are getting to love wine, Master Nedward, and it makes me so sorry
that I don't think any thing o' my pains a thinking on it! Do, Master Nedward,
stop right off short, and never take another glass o' wine so long as
you live, and your mother lives! Think of her and how wretched she'd be
if she knew—'

`There, there, good Roundy, that will do,' interrupted Edward, who could
not recal the idea of his mother, without anguish, and who felt every word
of the poor serving-man sink into and pierce his heart. `I will do as you
say, Roundy.'

`Wont you drink no more, Master Nedward?

`No, Roundy, I will not.'

`Good, kind master! Oh, I am so happy!' cried the grateful Roundy;
and catching Edward's hand to his lips he covered it with kisses and bathed
it with tears of joy.

Edward was deeply moved. He remained an hour with his servant, till
the surgeon came, of whom he anxiously inquired about his situation. He
was told that it was a compound fracture, and that it would be many weeks
before he would be able to go out; the surgeon also told him that his exceeding
fleshy condition would render a fever fatal, and that he must be
kept perfectly quiet, as he was threatened with one, from the heated state
of his blood, caused by the wine, porter and even rum, he was informed he
had been drinking, just before the accident.

It can be easily imagined with what emotions Edward heard this last
statement made. After the surgeon left, and while he was making and
strengthening new resolutions in his mind, a servant came in for him. On
going to his room he found Mr. Levis awaiting him.

`Well, my dear fellow! But—how haggard you look! You don't stand
late hours and champaigne like me! I was up with the lark—drank a bottle
of pure soda-water, poured another over my head and chest, sent to the
bar for a bittered brandy sling strong, and in half an hour I was as good as
new! Hearing you were in bed, I thought I would'nt disturb you, so breakfasted
with De Witt, who is almost as heavy as you are, and started off to
find my man!'

`And found him?'

Yes, in a dressing room, taking his coffee. I was shown into his room
having first sent up my card with `on particular and pressing business,'
written on it in pencil. I entered and as we had already met several times
we shook hands; but formally declining the chair he desired me to occupy,
I handed him your note. He read it, and bless me if he moved a muscle
of his face. When he had done, he folded it up, and in the most quiet way
imaginable, and smiling gently as he regarded me, said, confoundedly
polite.

`Be so civil, Mr. Levis, as to return to Mr. Edward Austin, as I believe
he signs himself, (and here he put up his eye-glass to take a cool second
look at your signature) and say to that personage that I have no apology to
make to him, and that I think, really, that he is inconceivably impertinent in
presuming to ask me for one!'

Edward's brow looked as dark as the storm-cloud when charged with the
thunder bolt. He sprang to his feet and stood like a statue of fierce and
fiery anger. He had hoped secretly that the apology would be tendered.—
He believed that it would be; and he had not let the result give him the

least uneasiness or concern. Surprise and disappointment now sharpened
and gave sting to his quick resentment at this insulting reply.

`Mr. Levis, that man I must meet.'

`I see no alternative, sir,' answered Levis, his eyes sparkling with secret
satisfaction.

I will write! will you bear my note?'

`With pleasure.'

`In a few moments Edward read what he had written.

After Mr. Levis had departed on his hostile mission, Edward paced the
floor with feelings of the most painful nature. He had created for himself
a world of misery and despair that seemed to close around him darker and
narrower, and from which there seemed no way of escape.

`So I am involved in a duel,' he said savagely, yet with poignant grief
pressing the hot tears from his eyes. `Well, I must abide it; Oh, Thought
and Conscience! Ye are fiery foes to the evil doer! I would I could annihilate
both! I can render them insensible; Brandy will do it; no, no! NO!!
I will not fly to that! I have promised Roundy; Poor Roundy! How he
kissed my hand, when I richly merited his curses! But I cant endure these
reflections; I cant think of him—no—nor of myself.'

`Did you ring, sir?'

`Ring? no;' yet he had rung the bell, and violently, in his walk up and
down his chamber; but he did it unconscious of the act, and without intent.
`But stay; what is that you have in your hand?'

`The Morning Paper.'

`Leave it with me, and bring me a glass of water. And then I want you
to go to the counting room of Mordent, Godine & Co. and tell them I am indisposed,
and shall not be there to-day.—Now let me divert my mind from
itself,' he said throwing himself into a chair. `Politics'—pah! `Dreadful
Accident!' `Conflagration!' Police Reports! Hah, what is this? Lieut. Henry
Collins! His name here! what can this mean!'

He read with horror, as follows:

`Painful Event.—We regret to record the death by suicide of Lieut.
Henry Collins in the Police lock-up, where he was found dead this morning
hanging by the neck to one of the bars of the inside lattice door, having
hung himself with one of his suspenders. He was, we learn, taken there
for having, in a state of intoxication, insulted a lady at the theatre. Being a
young gentleman of a high sense of honor, though in this unfortunate condition
for the time, it is supposed that on realizing his degrading situation
this morning, he yielded to his morbid sensitiveness, and fearing again to
meet the eyes of the world whose courtesies he had outraged, he fled to
suicide!

`What renders this event peculiarly painful, is the fact, whtch we have
just now learned, that this young gentleman was at one time addicted to
such intemperate habits, as to render it expedient that he should leave the
army; but that he afterwards became so thoroughly reformed that for some
months he has been in the service again; and up to yesterday he has not
been known to indulge even in a glass of wine. What unhappy and sudden
temptation has been instrumental in leading him to the sad fall, and melancholy
end, it is not in our power to explain.

The Coroner gave in his verdict in accordance with the above facts.'

Edward sat several minutes with the open newspaper before him, and
with his gaze fixed on the paragraph, transfixed and motionless as a statue;
Gradually an expression of horror grew upon his features; his complexion,
flushed while he read, became the hue of ashes, his eyes glared wildly;
suddenly a sharp, wild cry like the rending of a human soul, escaped his
lips, and he sprang to his feet with an air of desperate frenzy. He tottered,
recovered himself, pressed his hands to his temples and stood for at
least ten minutes in that attitude without motion. Who can tell what
thoughts, what torture of thought occupied his mind in this interval? At
length he dropped his hands and clasping his fingers with nervous horror,
he exclaimed, bitterly, bitterly, most bitterly.

`My cup is full! It is poured in to the brim! I am not only a drunkard,
but a murderer! I have murdered my friend! Despair! Madness! I am your
victim!' He rushed across the chamber with outstretched arms and glaring
eye-balls, as if he would have embraced the dreadful images he invoked,
when a knock was given upon the door.

With an effort that seemed almost superhuman, he all at once controlled
his feelings, and he said with a forced, but extraordinary calmness,

`Come in!'

Levis entered. Edward smiled thourgh the ghastliness of his visage and
said, in the same forced tone of composure, but with a depth that made his
friend start!

`Well?'

`You look ill!'

`It is nothing! What said the gentleman?' he demanded so sternly that
Levis stepped back a pace and gazed on him with surprise.

He read your missive with the most consummate coolness, and then referred
me to a friend! It was, who do you think, but Wittlesey! I saw him
and we have arranged every thing for our respective principals. You are
to meet at sunset this evening at Hoboken. Weapons pistols, and if these
fail, small swords. This is Frazier's choice, and he seems confoundedly savage.

`I am satisfied,' responded Edward in a perfectly unmoved voice.

`Then there is nothing to do but get ready. Have you weapons?'

`I don't own neither pistol or sword.'

`That is nothing. You can purchase them at —'s in Broadway.—
Suppose we walk that way.'

`No, I shall not go out. I leave it to you. Purchase for me the weapons
required. There is a hundred dollar note! If they come to more, I will
pay it. Arrange every thing yourself. I wish to have no trouble.'

`Bein, my dear fellow! You shall not complain; I will have you ready by
noon. You will want to cross over a couple of hours before sunset to practice
a bit; or suppose you go and pass the afternoon in the pistol gallery!'

`No. I shall not practice; I shall not practice!' answered Edward in a
tone of gloomy determination.

`Are you so good a shot then? a swordsman too?' that is capital! I
should be glad to see you put a point or a bullet, under that confoundedly
cool fellow's doublet. By the by, what surgeon will you have?'

Edward, at first, made no reply. He seemed, all the while, to be wishing
his second would terminate his visit. Levis had to repeat the question.

`It is of no consequence. I will have none!'

`Very well; That shows a confidence in yourself—I like. But it would
be safer.'

`Safer!' repeated Edward in a tone of contempt; `safer! who seeks
safety.—Not I.'

`I did not mean you were a coward, my boy.'

`Coward! Oh, no! I am no coward; Oh no, I have no fears, sir;' and
looking his friend in the face he laughed so strangely that Levis turned
pale.

`You are devilishly odd, Austin; One don't know what to make of you.'

`No, I dare say; call here at 5 o'clock and I will be at your service,' he
said in a commanding tone.'

`Wont you dine with me?'

`No!'

Levis started, looked as if he would like to take offence at the quick,
stern negative given him, and then bidding him good morning, he slowly
left the room.