University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
Narrative of Miss St. Clair.

My grandfather, Holcomb St. Clair, settled
about the year 17—, where the town of H—
in this state now stands. He had two sons, Holcomb
and Howard, the latter of whom was my
father. At the time of this settlement they were
mere children. Adjoining his lands lived a Mr.
Moreton, whose family consisted of a son and two
daughters. Little intercourse had taken place between
the two families except among the children
at school. When it was determined to lay off a
town at the place before mentioned, it was found,
upon the survey, that a corner of Moreton's land
extended into the very centre of the contemplated
town, and much farther, according to his claims,
than my grandfather was willing to allow. A
deadly animosity and consequent lawsuit arose,
which my grandsire gained. In the mean time,
the town was laid off and grew apace.

All the little intercourse between the families
was now broken off, and the separation extended
to the children at school, with the exception of my
uncle Holcomb, a precocious boy, and Moreton's
eldest daughter, who was then a beautiful little

girl. Thus were the two families situated at the
beginning of the revolutionary war. My grandfather
espoused the republican cause, and accepted
a commission in the army: while his persevering
enemy took the opposite side. Whether his enmity
to my grandfather had any thing to do with
his determination, I will not undertake to say.
During the progress of the war, owing to some
reports of my grandfather to the commander of the
American army, Mr. Moreton and his family left
the neighbourhood, and soon after sailed for England.
Nothing more was heard of the Moretons
till long after the recognition of American Independence
by the mother country, when Moreton
and his family returned to their former mansion.
His daughters were now both nearly grown, and
the eldest, a fair and accomplished young lady.
My uncle, Holcomb St. Clair, who was much older
than my father, and who had now almost arrived
at man's estate, from all that I can learn, in nowise
participated in the feelings of his father, at least
towards one member of the Moreton family—I
mean the eldest daughter. Indeed, tradition says
that the young people found frequent opportunities
of meeting, were devotedly attached to each other,
and had resolved to be married when Holcomb became
of age, in spite of all opposition.

At length, that time arrived. Young Holcomb
was twenty-one. He sought his father and made
known to him the state of his affections. In vain
did he plead that their attachment was prior to the

family feud; the old gentleman was inexorable;
he next boldly presented himself before the lady's
father, and asked his consent, declaring that he
would marry her without the permission of his
own parents, provided Mr. Moreton yielded. He
however was more resolved against the match
than my grandfather, and forbade his daughter
ever afterward to hold communication with Holcomb,
by letter or otherwise. Nevertheless, the
young lovers found frequent opportunities of meeting,
at the house of a former domestic, who lived
on the land of Mr. Moreton. At this place many
interviews took place, and at length a runaway
match was concluded upon.

Neither of the pair possessed a dollar, independent
of their parents, and they doubtless would
have been in the greatest distress if their designs
had been accomplished: but these very oversights
of the young people were deeply pondered upon
by the nurse, at whose house they met, and who
had a most parental regard for the young lady.
Her mind was greatly moved by seeing, as she
thought, a little farther ahead than the lovers. She
accordingly sought an interview with my uncle,
soon after his separation from his betrothed bride,
and asked him plainly to unfold to her his prospects
after marriage, and his future means of living.

As it may be readily supposed, his answers were
not very satisfactory to the anxious nurse. On
her way home, and while she was deeply musing
upon the melancholy prospects which awaited the

young people, she accidentally encountered her
patron, landlord, and former master, and out of
pure devotion to the real interests of the young
lady, as she supposed, divulged the whole plot.
Mr. Moreton kept his secret for the time within
his own breast, but at length the night arrived for
the elopement. My uncle was at the appointed
rendezvous with the horses, waiting as patiently
as could be expected, until the time appointed
for setting off had some time elapsed, when he
began to grow uneasy at the non-appearance of
his bride. Two hours had gone by, and yet no
trembling damsel greeted his longing eyes. Mid-night
found him still waiting and chafing under the
appointed oaks. At length, leaving his horses
under the care of his trusty servant, he resolved
to reconnoitre the premises of the hostile father.

Around the mansion of the Moretons the quietness
of death reigned; not a living being was to
be seen except the dogs, and the agricultural animals
which were quietly grazing over the green
in the still moonlight. At length he retired to his
own quarters totally discomfited, and at a loss to
account for the want of punctuality in the lady,
when all things around her father's mansion seemed,
to his observation, to have been so propitious to
their designs.

The next day found him without his having
closed his eyelids, and in no enviable state of mind.
Again he made his observations, and yet the same
quiet prevailed. Every thing seemed to be moving

on at the usual rate of country life and occupations.
He was now completely at a loss to account for his
disappointment in any other way than that which
is usually the last for an ardent lover to adopt—
namely, the inability of his mistress. And before
he was willing to admit a possibility of this, he proceeded
to the cottage of the nurse, calculating with
great certainty to find some letter or message, giving
some explanation of the mystery. But when
he arrived at the cottage, the door and rude shutters
were closed; a thing so uncommon, except on
Sundays, that he was struck with dismay and undefined
alarm. He knocked and stamped, but all
in vain. The next day, and the next, his visits to
the cottage were repeated with the same results;
and he now became almost maddened by suspense
and fear.

He watched Moreton's domestics, in hopes to
bride some of them to a disclosure of the proceedings
within the mysterious house, as he now began
to consider it, but no opportunity offered. At
length the long wished-for Sabbath arrived. Knowing
that both the Moreton family and the nurse
were constant attendants at the village church, he
repaired thither, with throbbing pulses and an aching
heart, in hopes, at least, to catch some stolen
and consolatory glance from his adored mistress;
or, at least, to gain intelligence from the nurse, as
to the cause of her unusual absence from her ancient
and much loved home. The bell was now
ringing, and the people of the village and the

country around were pouring in from all quarters;
and with them, at length, came the carriage of the
Moretons. His eyes were now riveted to the
spot, in hopes to see his betrothed descend as usual.
First came the old gentleman, then his proud lady,
and lastly, the younger daughter: and then the
steps were put up, and the carriage drove away.

These movements he had watched from his position
in the church; and long did his eyes remain
gazing upon the spot from which the carriage had
driven, until they were rapidly turned to the seat in
the gallery where the old nurse usually sat; there
also he was doomed to disappointment—the seat
was vacant.

Seizing his hat, he rushed out of the church, and
over the stile like a maniac; leaving my grandfather
and grandmother completely astounded at
his rude behaviour. From the church he ran to
the house of the Moretons, being at least a mile;
and bursting into the first door he came to, demanded
of the astounded domestic to see Miss
Catharine instantly.

“Lord bless you, sir! Miss Catharine's half-way
to England by this time!”

“To England!” cried my uncle, as he fell
upon the floor in uncontrolled agony.

When he had recovered himself, and reflected
for a moment, he composed his features, and enjoined
upon the two domestics (enforcing his request
in the usual way) not to mention his visit.

After ascertaining that Catharine was accompanied

by her brother and the nurse, and that they
had set off for the city of New-York on the very
night intended for the elopement, he rapidly retraced
his steps to the church, and arrived there in
time to be seen quietly reposing under one of the
trees surrounding it, both by his own and the
Moreton family; leaving it to be supposed by them,
that sudden indisposition was the cause of his abrupt
exit. On the next morning, while his father's
family were yet ignorant of most of the foregoing
circumstances, he requested a private audience of
my grandfather. The old gentleman was just
about to take his usual ride round the farm on
horseback, and requested Holcomb to order his
horse and join him. At dinner, the old gentleman
announced to the family that Holcomb would set
out next morning for the city of New-York;
whence, after certain necessary preparations, he
would continue his journey through the middle and
southern States. He seemed more than ordinarily
pleased at his son's determination; thinking, no
doubt, all the while, that it proceeded from a laudable
desire to wean himself from his unfortunate
attachment, and a judicious wish, at the same time,
to see his countrymen and improve his mind.

Some weeks after my uncle's departure for the
city, my grandfather accidentally heard that Holcomb
had sailed for England immediately on his
arrival at New-York. And this piece of bad news
seemed but the commencement of an unparalleled
series of disasters. Next came the news of the

lady's having preceded my uncle: then the more
dreadful tidings of the loss of the vessel in which
the latter had sailed, every individual on board
having perished, except the captain and one or two
seamen.

My grandfather was now almost heartbroken,
and his greatest enemy little better; for it was
soon ascertained that the blooming and beautiful
Catharine was in a rapid decline. Then came the
news of her death, and lastly her mortal remains,
to be deposited in the village burying-ground.
Thus, in the short space of one year, were these
obstinate parents brought to lament, each for the
loss of a favourite child.

But their individual and family griefs by no
means softened their hearts towards each other.
So far from it, each acted towards the other with
renewed hostility, seeming as if he attributed the
loss to his enemy.

These wounds were just beginning to be cicatrized
by the lapse of some few years, when, on a
beautiful Sunday morning, the Moreton family
were astonished, on coming into the churchyard
(which was also the burying-ground), to see a
chaste and elegant monument erected over the
grave of their lamented daughter, with this simple
inscription:—

BENEATH THIS STONE IS THE GRAVE OF
CATHARINE MORETON.

Every person in the churchyard had very naturally
supposed that it was erected by her parents.
The latter, however, were dumb with astonishment.
An inquiry was immediately set on foot to
ascertain who had interfered (as the old Mr. Moreton
complained) with his private grief; but no clew
could be discovered to the mystery: and finally
the subject died away, and was never afterward
renewed, except when a stranger visited the village,
and was desirous to see the curiosities of the
place, among which the mysterious tomb was sure
to be the first.

There was one small yet singular circumstance
connected with this tomb. At the corner where
the name of the maker is usually inscribed, there
was an anchor very legibly cut into the marble,
without the sculptor's name. In a few years the
memory of my uncle Holcomb and his unfortunate
love was swept into that eternal sleep of oblivion,
which had before engulfed a million of heart-rending
tales, and which stands ready to bury all
the sufferings of their successors.